Carla tipped her head back, let out that throaty laugh that he’d grown to love. “How is that a good thing? Aren’t I some kind of hellspawn?”
No, he wanted to say.I don’t know what you are, but you’re wonderful and funny and beautiful.But he sensed that might disappoint her, so he just said, “Yeah, you’re terrifying. I like you anyway.”
Her face lit up.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
That evening,when they lay side by side on the couch watching the news, Carla reached for his hand. Ran her fingers over the back of it, squeezed. Jack squeezed back.
The newscaster droned on in the background. Carla lay pressed against his chest, warm and solid, smelling of hairspray and some kind of perfume that made him think of rushing rivers and crisp fall air. His eyelids had just begun to droop when she said, “Promise me something.”
Jack forced himself awake. “Anything.”
“If I tell you to run, run. If this time loop thing ever ends and we don’t know it… I just need you to stay alert, alright?”
Jack blinked. “I, um, yeah. Alright. Don’t worry, I’m more than willing to do that.”
He hoped he wouldn’t have to. That Ronnie would never barge in on them in a compromising position. That he’d never learn Jack’s identity.
But cold dread unfurled in his stomach, spreading like ice. If the time loop ended, if word got back to Ronnie that Jack had been to the house, there’d be no hope. Jack was virtually stranded here. No money, no car, no way out.
He thought of the body in the woods, and his throat clenched.
“OK.” Carla exhaled. “OK, good. Listen, I think it’ll be fine. Just in case.”
“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll run.”
On the television screen, a newscaster gestured to a grainy photo of a woman. Early twenties, blond, pretty.MISSING, said the caption.
Jack blinked. Had she always been missing? He thought he’d seen this segment before—a car crash, a heat wave, a new farmer’s market opening.
He would’ve remembered a missing girl.
But before he could point this out, Carla was squeezing him again. “Hey, Jack? I have one more request.”
“Sure,” he said automatically, before he could stop himself.
“Don’t come around tomorrow. I want to try something.”
Her voice was too calm, too easy; panic knotted in his stomach. She was going to do something reckless, he realized, and twisted to sit up.
“Jack,” she warned, but he was already crawling out from behind her and onto his feet, glaring her down.
“What does that mean?” He crossed his arms, tried to look serious. Anxiety thrummed beneath his skin.
Carla scrambled from the couch, rose to meet him, her brow furrowed. “It means I decided maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I gotta do something different.”
“Like what?” His pulse rabbited in his throat, so hard that he thought it must be visible from where she stood.
“I mean… Maybe I should break it off with him. For real, this time. Like, have a conversation about it instead of just screaming at him or running away.” He must’ve made face, because she added, “Don’t you dare judge me, Jack. Don’t you dare.”
He forced himself to take a deep breath. Pushed down panic.Not a good idea,said the little voice in the back of his head.If this works, you’re both in trouble.
But if it worked, and the time loop ended…
That would be a miracle in itself.
