Chapter 29 #2
Hot tears slide down my face. “What if we can’t?”
Sumner rolls off his shins and leans his back against the wall, stretching out his legs. He runs a hand through his hair. Thoughts race behind his eyes.
“There’s more you’re not telling me,” I say quietly.
His eyes drop to his hands, and I know what he’s about to say won’t be good.
“Please,” I urge.
I shift toward him, heart pounding. He’s hesitant to go on. It’s in the way his arms cross, how he nervously taps his pointer against his elbow.
“Do you remember,” he starts, “the first time we met in Danforth’s room? One of the posters was missing from the wall by the time we left. I was exhausted—between crew and William badgering me with questions—so I convinced myself I was seeing things. But then we went back and…I wasn’t wrong.”
Then it dawns on me.
“The first time we met in the lounge,” I whisper, dread thickening in my stomach, “you sat on that chair and it broke—”
“The back leg disappeared.” He tugs at the hair at the crown of his head. “And the rest did too, eventually. I mean, have you seen it lately?”
Burning anxiety skates across my nerves. I tuck my knees close, elbows sinking into my thighs as I squeeze my temples with my palms. If these are things we’ve noted, what about everything that’s gone unnoticed?
How much time do we have until everything disappears? Including us?
A new wave of dizziness washes over me as I find the photograph of my dad.
This is the place where he found himself—his home—and then our home.
It’s where he was first captivated by my mother, the catalyst for all the next chapters of his life—and therefore ours.
What happens if none of it ever occurred?
What happens to me? My siblings? If they never meet here, in this reality, will we soon cease to exist?
The answer is obvious.
But I can’t afford to find out.
Fresh tears leak down the side of my face. “We should have been working together. I mean, we’re always at odds with each other. It’s some competition or another. You one-upping me.”
“I—” He casts his gaze down, then shakes his head. “I agree. But you weren’t wrong for wanting to get started with the information we have.”
“And you weren’t wrong for trying to finish the engineering we needed,” I admit. “There’s a comfort in having everything laid out.”
It’s as close to an apology as either of us will get.
We’ve been so diametrically opposed this entire time. What a waste. All of this feels like some cruel joke. I never wanted to lose everything, not even Sumner.
I retrieve my dad’s journal from my coat pocket and run my palm along the cover. Maybe it’s not too late. We can reverse the wish. Tonight. No more time wasted.
“What are you thinking?” he murmurs.
I forget the way he can so easily read me.
“I wished for this.” The words fumble over my tongue in a rush. “It’s my fault.”
But Sumner doesn’t scoff or respond with a snitty rebuttal. His hand falls assuredly over my wrist. Warmth sinks into my skin, a tingling pressure building at his touch. “It’s not your fault, Carmichael.”
I shake my head. “Give me what I need to make this place his again. That was my wish. It’s why I thought William was our answer to saving this place for my dad—for everyone here.”
“I told you already, that’s not possible,” he says gently. “If the universe was in the business of granting wishes, everyone would get what they want.”
“This is different,” I contend. “How do you explain it?”
He stays silent. Because he can’t. I can’t.
“I know you think it’s asinine, but if it all falls apart—if we forget—it is going to be my fault. I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to forget, or wink out of existence—” My voice wavers and breaks.
He scoots closer to me, his hand providing a reassuring squeeze around my wrist. “It’s not asinine.” There’s determination in his tone. “Let’s try reversing the wishes, all right? It’s worth pursuing. We need to explore every possible avenue.”
I twist my dad’s ring around my thumb. “Thank you.”
I’m sure I’d feel some relief if it weren’t for the throbbing pain in my abdomen. I squeeze my eyes shut, buckling forward as a hot ache radiates outward, destabilizing me.
He presents me with a strange look, removing his hand from on top of mine. “What is it?”
“Just cramps.” I’m used to downplaying it. Don’t worry, I’m fine. It’ll pass. Eventually.
I expect to find discomfort on his face, or maybe an excuse to walk away from this conversation like it’s a blazing forest fire, but Sumner doesn’t seem fazed.
He’s not the type to use my own pain against me.
I’d like to think nobody’s that unkind, but I’ve given him an out.
If he wants to avoid the topic, he’s free to go.
He doesn’t, though.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I’m just going to sit here for another minute.”
He settles his back against the wall. “Then I’ll stay,” he tells me, “as long as you need.”
I can’t explain why my heart dissolves into liquid sugar. Maybe from the overload of emotions and hard truths we’ve had to accept within the last several minutes, or maybe it’s because, for once, I’m not alone.
He motions toward the journal in my lap. “I know his journal is important, but is there a chance you’d let me borrow it?”
As much as it hurts to part with it, I trust Sumner. So I hand it over. When he opens it, the Sherlock bookmark he gave me flutters into his lap.
He blinks down at it, then looks at me. There’s a new tenacity in his eyes. “I’ll talk to Lionel.”
“And I’ll find William,” I say. “We’ll wish him back tonight.”