April woke upto furious meowing.
Bianca had staked her claim on the small navy love seat in one corner of the cabin, her blue eyes slitted in annoyance, because Bob was sitting on Daphne’s bed and making a horrible racket.
“Bob, shut it,” April said. Early morning light streamed in through windows, casting a lavender glow throughout the room. April pulled the covers over her head and rolled over, but Bob continued his protest.
April sat up in a huff, glaring at her cat.
Which was exactly when she noticed Daphne’s bed was empty.
She grabbed her phone from where it was charging on the nightstand and checked the time.
7:09 a.m.
Far too early to be up and at ’em, in her opinion. They didn’t have a class until two. She rubbed her face, while Bob continued to meow his own concern, everything that had happened the evening before washing over her. Honestly, Daphne had reacted better to their Elena connection than April thought she would. She was stunned, sure. She was upset, absolutely. But she was calm. She hadn’t even really cried, which was honestly a true shocker.And then, god, with everything Daphne had shared about her family and how she grew up, how she was completely estranged from her parents…it was a lot. April didn’t particularly vibe with her parents, that was no secret, but total alienation? That was hard to imagine.
But Daphne was an adult.
She knew herself better than April did.
She knew what she needed, how to take care of herself.
April flopped back down into bed, closed her eyes, and tried to go back to sleep, an effort that lasted exactly fifteen seconds before she threw the covers back and got up. She went to the front door, flung it open, and walked out onto the small porch.
The morning was gorgeous—a cloudless lavender-blue sky brightening by the second, a cool breeze drifting in from the cerulean lake, the trees tall and green around her.
But no sign of April’s cabinmate.
She closed the door, poured the cats some dry food. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, put on her makeup. She got dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black racerback tank top. She made coffee in the tiny pot on the desk. All the while, Bob mewed for the love of his life, and Daphne refused to appear.
Finally, April texted her a very casualWhere the hell are you, then determined not to think about the woman again until it was absolutely necessary.
Unfortunately, by the time nine thirty rolled around, April knew thinking about Daphne was absolutely necessary. She’d spent most of the past two hours on the porch, trying to drum up some ideas for the Devon—her mind either a complete blank or filled with all the wrong things—but Daphne should’ve arrived by now, back from whatever errand she’d been running or walk she’d been taking. At the very least, she should’ve answered April’s text. April didn’t want to feel it—concern—but she felt partiallyresponsible for whatever bender Daphne might have catapulted herself into. She stood up from the porch chair and tapped around on her phone before pressing the device to her ear.
She walked inside and heard a faint buzzing sound coming from Daphne’s side of the room. She hurried to the nightstand and ripped open the drawer, pulling out Daphne’s vibrating phone.
“Fucking hell,” she said, trying to stay calm. They were in the woods. There was a very large, very deep lake not a hundred feet away. Daphne didn’t know the area. She was a heartbroken disaster. And she didn’t have her phone.
“Fuckinghell,” April said again, grabbing her bag and stuffing Daphne’s phone inside before she stormed out the door.
April would notpanic.
She wouldnot.
She opted for the lodge first, mostly because she couldn’t drag a lake by herself, had no idea where to start in the woods, and refused to give in to the growing sense of astrological doom. She was living and working with her cheating ex’s ex, for fuck’s sake, and was now searching the wide world for the woman to make sure she was still breathing. She’d had enough astrological interference for the time being, thanks very much. Surely—surely—the universe was done with her for right now.
The main lodge was bustling at this time of morning—breakfast dishes clinking in the dining room, guests walking around with towels over their shoulders and beach bags hanging from their arms—and the whole space smelled like rich espresso and bacon. April hurried down the hall toward the art studio, hoping Daphne had just gotten up absurdly early to prepare for their class.
Inside the studio, however, the light was off, and it was quiet.April stood in the doorway for only a second before walking toward the front of the room, looking for any sign of her cabinmate.
And she found it.
Many signs in the form of a complete and total mess. Daphne—well, April assumed it was Daphne—had pulled a table over to an instructor’s easel, then proceeded to use every color of paint in creation. Brushes of all different sizes littered the tabletop, though some were sticking out of murky glasses of water; at least five white plastic palettes smeared with paints were stacked up like pizza boxes; and there were various rags and paper towels crumpled up all over the place.
“What the fu—”
But April cut herself off when she caught sight of the easel. Or rather, what was on the easel.
A painting of a young girl.
