The church itself was cold and drafty, the pews sardine-pressed with congregants in their finest hats and brightest shoes. I knew the instant I stepped inside that I’d made a mistake. With Eva’s help, I’d made progress controlling the death-touch, yes, but I didn’t want to test its limits. Especially not here.
Anxiety climbed my ribs as we slid into the back pew, the monster’s awareness tuning my senses to the delicate heartbeats filling the crowded room. It would take so little to hurt them. Just one slip. One accident.
One touch.
They kept the ceremony short and sweet. Despite his best man’s absence—or maybe because of it—Dane Walker looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. After “I do,” his new bride squealed and jumped into his arms. The room stirred. Smiles, rouged cheeks, and rose petals painted the whitewashed chapel every shade of blush. I retreated to a shadowy corner with no one nearby, save a spider weaving its silk. I fiddled with a loose button on my cuff, giving curious passersby a polite, strained smile.
Jack found me and casually angled himself so anyone sliding down the side rows grazed him instead. Embarrassment andgratitude heated my face in equal measure. He had a way of noticing when I felt anxious.
Izzy was the last to go, dragging her sister behind her. Eva tossed me an exasperated smile. I matched it, but when the door slammed behind them, I accidentally popped the button off its cuff.
“Breathe,”the monster soothed.“It’s going to be fine.”
Jack had cut himself shaving. I could see the line of red-green blood smeared over his jaw. “You all right?” he asked.
When I nodded, we made for the exit door and Jack shouldered it open.
“Wait…”
He paused. “Yes?”
We’d hardly spoken all week. I wasn’t sure if he, or I, was avoiding this topic, but I had to know. “Have you really had a way to reach her, all this time?”
Jack took a deep breath. “Arthur—”
“Sorry,” I said automatically. But I wasn’t. I was confused, and hurt, though I didn’t want to be. “I know you didn’t ask for this.” For me, here all summer. Heat rolled up my face, and my throat constricted. I just wanted to know why. Why he’d kept me here when he could have called her to come back for me.
“Listen.” Jack’s voice grew heavy. “My history with your mother is complicated. Maybe I should have told you sooner. You deserve that. But…” Here he faltered. “I’m also not sorry I waited.”
“You’re not?”
“Of course not.” Jack stepped toward me and bucketed my shoulder with a giant hand, careful to touch only the fabric of my shirt. “We want you here, Arthur.”
My throat ached with sudden feeling.
“You don’t have to prove yourself.” Jack smiled. “You can take up space.”
Then he slipped out into the roar of festivities, and I was left with nothing but starlings in the rafters and a button clenched in my fist.
The reception went deep into the night, strings of fairy lights illuminating the clearing. Izzy seemed to gain more stamina with every new song, dragging her girlfriend, Priya Dawson, onto the dance floor and looping her arms around the shorter woman’s neck.
Priya and June were cousins, I’d learned. They had the same dark eyes, the same warm brown skin with a shock of sleek dark hair. I would have thought them sisters.
Eva and I sat apart on a hay bale, sipping apple cider the Walkers had ordered all the way from some specialty cider mill in Michigan.
I’d caught more than one side-eye thrown in Eva’s direction today, whispers passed about her possible connection to Lenny’s disappearance. She’d kept her head high, but after one too many pointed fingers, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore, so I popped to my feet and extended a hand.
“Dance with me?”
Eva’s eyes dashed to the swollen crowd, surprised. “We can’t.”
“Sure we can.”
I led her to where the shadows grew thick against the chapel’s eastern wall, then caught her by the waist and swung her in a circle. Eva squealed, clinging tightly to me. When we slowed, her nails drew over my scalp, sending shivers down my spine.
She’d braided her hair half up and secured it with a dark green bow at the back of her head. I delicately tugged on the ribbon’s end, careful not to pull too hard, as the band crooned a warm acoustic cover of the classic song “My Girl.” Eva played with the empty place on my cuff where the button had broken free, her clean, earthy scent invading my senses.
“Come on.” When the song ended, she dragged me to the front steps of the chapel. The door creaked when she pushed it in and poked her head inside.
