“Not sure if there’s much difference,” Jack pointed out.
“One is more satisfying than the other,” said Carla in a tone that left no room for argument. “I just… I’m really worried Enzo knows something. He came by the house this morning. Looking forme. He’s never done that before.” She sighed, dragged her finger around the rim of her glass.
Jack’s blood ran cold.Shit. If they had to worry about getting caught by Enzo… “What did he want?”
“Said he wanted to see how I was feeling. I told him it was real sweet of him to check on me and asked if Ronnie sent him. He said Ronnie said I was feeling sick last night, but that’s bullshit,” Carla snarled. “Trust me, nobody in the family ever came to check on me when I was sick before.”
“Oh,” said Jack, suddenly deeply saddened. He’d long learned not to expect much from the community around him. No neighbor would knock on his door if he took a few days off from work. No one would bring him soup or ask after him. His mother might call, but that was all he could expect.
But Carla had a boyfriend, friends, an entire “family.” Someone should’ve cared about her.
Maybe they did. Or maybe Carla didn’t care aboutthem. Maybe the neglect she experienced was of her own making.
But she insisted on feeding Jack when he showed up at her door and always gave him the fancy wine. At minimum, she was capable of being a gracious host.
When had she pulled away from the family?
“Anyway, Enzo knows something, and I’m gonna find out what it is,” Carla said. She drained her glass, slammed it onto the desk.
“Alright,” Jack nodded. Took a deep breath. “Hey, I have a few things I should share with you before we do anything else.”
Carla wiped her lips, sat back. “Fine. Tell me.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
They spentthat afternoon camped in front of the television, waiting for any mentions of Hannah. Carla sat on the floor in front of the couch while Jack combed his fingers through her hair, working out the knots. A brush would’ve been better, but after yesterday’s ordeal, he hardly wanted to ask her to move.
“Can’t believe the hotel manager knows, too,” Carla mused during the commercial break. Onscreen, a man in a brick-red suit gestured to a lot of used cars. “You said he was a dick.”
“He is,” Jack said. He couldn’t meet her eye. “But he’s helped me out a few times. I don’t hate him.”
She really,reallydidn’t need to know much he didn’t hate him.
“You must not. He slept in your bed.”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Jack said, tugging gently at a particularly stubborn tangle. “I thought he was gonna die.”
“Wonder if there’s any connection to that lady he saw.”
“He said it didn’t feel like a dream,” Jack mused.He saidIfelt like a dream.
“Maybe it wasn’t.”
“What else would it be?”
“Dunno. Maybe something connected to all this.”
“Did you ever see her?”
Carla shook her head. “No. Honestly, I’m more interested in his sudden deterioration. How’d he get so sick?”
“I have a theory,” said Jack, suddenly nervous. His suggestions at work, no matter how small, were usually met with stunned silence and confusion, but he knew better than to keep this to himself. If it might help, then it needed to be voiced. “I think we’re still affected by things that happen during the time loop.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Carla, turning to face him.
“We’ve been stuck like this for over a month, right? As far as we know. And the whole time, Boris hasn’t been eating or sleeping or drinking water. I think those things still impact us.”
