Looks like your plan worked, huh?
“Your plan?” I pass Hazel her phone back, one eyebrow raised in her direction.
“Oh shit.” Her eyes widen as she locks the screen, and tucks her phone away.
“You did this?”
“I…might have?” she grins. “I mean, I didn’t know for sure you’d get matched with Sibby, but Ihopedyou would.”
“Nobody thought to ask me about this?” Kellan grumbles.
“Sibyl doesn’t need yourpermission.” Hazel reaches forward to whack him on the shoulder.
“Jesus.” I blow out a breath and run my hand through my hair, chuckling. “Guess I owe you a thank-you then.”
Hazel squeals, throwing her arms around me in an awkward hug. “I’m so excited for you two. You’re the best people I know! You deserve to be happy together.”
I give her a smile, my eyes locking with Kellan’s in the rearview.
“Don’t think I won’t knock you out if you break her heart,” he grumbles.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. I seem to recall bruising a few faces with you over the years.”
“Yeah, well, I was hoping you’d continue being oblivious to how hard she’s been crushing on you.”
“Jesus, did everyone know but me?”
“Apparently.” Chuck cackles from the front seat. “We shoulda made a bet about these two.” He peers back to wink at me.
“Well, Taylor knows. So, the whole town is about to know.” Hazel grins, her face still tipped down at her phone.
“Maybe we should refocus on trying to get her back.”
“I’d still like to know what you did that sent her running.” Kellan’s eyes narrow at me in the mirror.
“Trust me,” I groan. “You don’t.”
“Shit,” Hazel sighs. “Now I have to know.”
“You’ll have to try to wring it from her then. I’m taking this shit to the grave.”
Chapter 12
Sibyl
The doorto the Alemoor Diner jingles. It’s been jingling nonstop for the past fifteen minutes. Apparently, this is a busy place.
Alemoor is the place to come for pie. Tourists actually come here for their pie. It’s good, I guess. I have three different flavors in front of me, and none of them is really shocking me with their fruity fillings and subpar crusts.
I made it the whole twenty miles to Alemoor before realizing my car was, in fact, not fixed. Kellan would kill me if I drove the full nine hours in it. That is, if the car didn’t off me on the way.
I shovel a massive bite of peach pie into my gob at the same time a very deep, very familiar voice says, “This seat taken?”
My jaw drops, the pie evacuating like it’s sentient and knows it’s either the plate or stomach acid.
“What’re you doing here?” My voice squeaks out, eyes growing wide as I watch Eli fold himself into the booth beside me.
“Where you headed?” He looks at the assortment ofhalf-eaten pie slices, then tugs the piece of apple toward him.
