Fl. . .
Flowers?
Did he mean his mother’s desiccated flower-filled masonjar?
As I made my way back to the laundry room, I ran everything there was in my bedroom through my head, but nothing else started with afl. The washing cycle had finished, so I tossed the clothes in the dryer and sat on the countertop to wait, toying with the soft terry towel as I dwelled some more on Everest’s enigmaticmessage.
My mind kept looping back to the flower jar, but I’d gotten rid of it sometime ago because the smell of Lucy’s dried roses had felttoxic.
I dialed Everest’s number again. The phone rang and rang inside my ear. I was about to play back his voicemail when a dusky figure darkened the doorway. The phone slid out of my fingers and clattered against the whitetiles.
20
August crouchedto retrieve my phone. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You just left me up there a long time.” As he rose, he tendered the small apparatus, his eyes roving over thescreen.
I blanched, afraid he’d see Everest’s name, afraid he’d think me a traitor,afraid—
“It’s not cracked,” hesaid.
Pulse battering my neck, I tightened the towel around myself and reached an unsteady hand to retrieve myphone.
August hitched up an eyebrow. “Dimples, you’re worryingme.”
“I’m fine now. Justtired.”
His eyes lowered to my swinging bare legs, or maybe he was looking at the machine tumbling ourclothes.
There was no way they’d be dry yet, but hopefully they wouldn’t be too wet. I hopped down, and he backed up, and then I leaned over and opened the fronthatch.
As I stuck my hand inside the drum, he cleared his throat. “Why aren’t youdressed?”
I pulled out his shirt first. “My entire wardrobe’s in the newapartment.”
For some reason, he flicked his gaze toward the entrance of the laundry room so fast I checked to make sure my cousin hadn’t materializedthere.
Empty.
“It’s not completely dry yet,” I said, wiggling my fingers to get hisattention.
His sharp Adam’s apple bobbed as he took theshirt.
I gathered up my clothes. “Give me one moresecond.”
Back in the changing rooms, I yanked my humid jeans up my legs—horrible sensation—then clipped on my bra that was so damp my nipples pebbled. I plugged in the hairdryer and ran it for a full minute over my chest, hoping the hot air would warm meup.
It helpedsome.
When I returned to the laundry room, August had put on his shirt. I stuck my feet into my shoes, omitting the socks. I set them out to dry on the rack, then slung my handbag over my shoulder. I hesitated to fill a basket with sheets and towels, but since I was dressed and heading to Frank’s for the night, gathering supplies could wait untilmorning.
“I need to stop by my bedroom before I go. If you needto—”
“I told you. There’s nowhere I need tobe.”
“Okay.” As we climbed the steps, I said, “You can wait for me in the car, if youprefer.”
“Whatever youwant.”
WhatdidIwant?
