Christopher leaned forward and spoke in a quieter voice. “The future?” He raised one eyebrow. “Do you have numbers so I can win the lottery? I’ll split the winnings.” He flashed his dimple.
“Try to be serious. I’m from 2022. Brandon’s in danger. He ends up in a coma.”I didn’t say he died, figuring that would be too much. The brothers were close. I remembered how I’d reacted when he sprang the news on me about Brandon’s death.
“Why can’t you talk in the future? This is more than laryngitis.”
How had he guessed? It wasn’t the question I expected. Nothing about time travel, just my voice. Why didn’t he believe the laryngitis story?
I hesitated. A flood of terrible memories seeped into my thoughts.
Before me floated Eric’s face in a sneer. The crack of the back of his hand across my cheek, my split and burning lip. The taste of blood in my mouth. “Liar.”
I cut off the memories of Eric and focused on Christopher’s words.
“You aren’t sick, you’re different. I figured it out the night you wore that slinky red number. Your mind has always been organized, even if your sense of time is lousy, but now it’s like a brick wall.”
My eyebrows shot up. My mind?
“I’m willing to believe your story, but I want straight answers.” He leaned back, his pale blue eyes intent.
No signs of mirth. With those eyes, it was like he saw inside me—my private thoughts on display. I swallowed and nodded. I’d try the truth. Even if it was upsetting.
“This happened before. Brandon ghosted me. I married my rebound guy, and it was awful. We had a car accident. My husband died two years ago. I haven’t spoken since the accident. Just over a week ago, in 2022, you came to me. You’d had a strange phone call. You said Brandon collapsed into a coma months after our breakup. He never woke up. You wanted my help to solve a mystery.”
I looked up to see how he was taking this. I’d told him his brother had died. He’d said to be honest. My hands shook. Discussing Brandon’s death made me ill.
“And?”
My stomach dropped. I’d never told my history outside of therapy. I couldn’t read his thoughts from his expression. He must play poker.
“I was miserable and wished I had a redo button for my life. I woke up in this time on the red dress Friday. I want to save Brandon. You asked for my help, now I’m asking for yours.”
I set my phone on the table and jumped when it rang. Christopher snatched it and answered before I could protest.
“Hey, Meghan,” Christopher said.
Her name had appeared on the screen. I’d been dodging her calls. I shook my head, willing him not to say anything.
He swatted the phone away when I held my hand out. My sister was going to have a million questions about him. She could be like the Inquisition. Meghan’s questions were hard to evade, and she had a limited understanding of personal boundaries.
The server arrived with our dinner-laden plates and set them on the table.
“Thanks.” Christopher’s hand covered the phone for a few seconds.
“Ya, her phone keeps dropping calls. She’s so busy she hasn’t gotten it fixed. You know how hard she works.”
There was a pause while my sister spoke.
“This is his better-looking brother, Christopher. She will absolutely be there on Friday. If Brandon’s too busy, I’ll bring her myself. He’s slammed these days at work.”
Meghan spoke again, and Christopher winked at me.
I couldn’t believe what he’d done. Now I’d have to go to her party.
“Well. Iama nice guy. Great, see you then.” He hung up.
I had to pick my jaw off the floor. He’d covered my lack of voice with ease.
“Your sister’s a peach.” He handed back my phone with a smirk. “I just got an invite for free food.”
