Chapter Twenty
“She isn’t returning any of my calls,” Sydney said, falling onto the patchwork couch, which was sitting up against a dark blue wall.
The couch, much like the rest of the fire station living room, was a hand-me-down.
It was possibly a hundred years old, maybe even a deathbed for someone long ago.
Still, it was the coziest thing in the entire place.
“Or text messages. And believe me, Liv, I’ve sent at least thirty. She’s probably already blocked me.”
Liv sat straddling the chair, arms folded over the backrest, chewing on her bottom lip. Upon arriving at work this morning, she’d sought out Liv and told her about the entire ordeal, hoping her friend could give her advice.
“She’s a neurosurgeon, isn’t she?” Liv asked. “Why react like that in the first place?”
Sydney had been turning that question over in her mind nonstop since yesterday.
From the moment Morgan had climbed back into the car, jaw clenched like she was chewing on nails, eyes fixed forward and body language screaming, leave me alone.
And then again when Sydney had dropped her off at her house, the silent treatment was still in full force.
For the past twenty-four hours, that question had been on a permanent loop.
“I have no idea,” Sydney said, kicking off her shoes and bringing her legs up on the couch, only to fold them beneath her. “You should’ve seen her, Liv. It was like she was someone else. Someone I didn’t recognize. She looked—”
“Like a ghost?” Liv interrupted.
Sydney shook her head. “Like a woman broken beyond repair.”
She had a feeling the reason for Morgan’s shut-down-freak-out combo yesterday was like those colors existing beyond the visible spectrum. Right in front of her, practically waving, yet she just couldn’t see it.
Then there was the whole curse situation.
If Sydney hadn’t been hexed by Madison Hall, would they still have found themselves driving along the road at that exact moment when the car hit the cyclist?
Would their weekend still have been ruined?
Would Morgan still be giving her the silent treatment, possibly forever?
She was just about to open her mouth and mention her theory when Liv pointed a finger in her direction. “Don’t you dare bring up that curse, Sydney.”
“Who says I was…” But Sydney let her words fizzle out. Who was she kidding? Liv had read her mind like it was a story book and there was no denying it.
“It’s not real.” Liv rose from the chair, swinging one leg over the seat, awkwardly hobbling until she was standing safe and sound beside it.
“It’s never been real. Deep down, you know the whole curse thing is just a load of bullshit.
” Now, standing right in front of Sydney, Liv leaned in, back stooped, finger raised like a teacher, a sharp scowl in place.
“And honestly, you’re beginning to use it as an excuse. ”
Sydney recoiled as if she’d just been slapped across the face. “I’m what?” she cried, feeling both perplexed and extremely offended. Though, to be fair, Liv had a point. The only reason she felt snubbed was because the truth stung sharper than a hornet.
“I’m sick of hearing you blame that silly little curse.” Liv’s nostrils flared. She shot upright and dropped her hand to the side. “Whatever is happening between you and Morgan has absolutely nothing to do with your silly little make-believe curse.”
There were no truer words than that.
Still, Sydney felt oddly defensive. “Who says it doesn’t?” It was as if her entire life were built on a lie, and she couldn’t bear to see it unravel. In fact, she seemed to cling to it like it was a life raft in a stormy sea, refusing to let it go.
“Me… and the entire fucking universe.” Liv tossed her hands into the air and rolled her eyes furiously.
“That stupid curse has been an easy excuse for you to back out of every relationship you’ve ever had.
” Her chest heaved as if she had just sprinted down the hallway.
“Something happens and you’re more than happy to sit back and blame the curse than actually do something about it. ”
Sydney’s jaw would’ve dropped to the floor in utter shock if it didn’t feel wired closed. Words escaped her, rushing from every cell in her brain.
While Liv’s breathing steadied, Sydney just sat there, transfixed. She wondered how she had lost Morgan and was now on the verge of losing Liv.
“Sydney.” Liv’s voice softened, her face smoothing out.
She walked over to the couch and sat down beside her.
She moved her palm to lie flat on Sydney’s thigh.
“You know I love you, right? And I’m the first to admit that I do and say crazy things all the time.
That’s why I’m the perfect person to tell you that believing in a curse is fucking crazy. ”
There was a knock on the door and then a woman with strawberry-blonde hair, a bright pink wraparound dress, and beige platforms strolled in.
“You can’t be in here,” Liv exclaimed, whipping her head back, but as soon as she registered who it was, her lips curled into a grin. “Tessa. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Sydney was up and off the couch so fast she had nearly hooked her ankle behind her leg and tumbled forward headfirst. But thanks again to yoga twice weekly, and those Thai chi classes most Saturday mornings, her reflexes were cat-like.
“Did something happen to Morgan?” Sydney asked, fear swirling in her chest.
Why else would Tessa show up unannounced at the fire station? The two had always come in pairs. Tessa with Morgan. Seeing the woman without the raven-haired beauty was like seeing Lennon without McCartney.
The reason was possibly calamitous. Tessa’s serene expression had to be due to shock.
“I’ve never been inside a fire station before,” Tessa said, not answering the question.
She looked star-struck as her gaze swept around the room like it was the set of Friends.
“I thought the whole sliding down the pole thing was just a myth, but I literally saw a pole down on the first floor. Isn’t that something? ”
“Tessa,” Sydney urged, stepping forward. “Is Morgan alright?”
“Of course she is,” Tessa chuckled, placing her handbag on the table.
It was the same shocking pink color as her dress.
She then seemingly had a thought and wrinkled her nose.
“I mean, aside from the fact that she had to jump back into being a doctor when she’s barely recovered from that panic attack she had.
You know she was admitted to psych? I mean, it was only for a day, but that’s plenty, isn’t it?
All that because of poor Emily Parker with that horrible medulloblastoma Morgan couldn’t remove… ”
Sydney felt like she was spinning on a merry-go-round, her brain floating in circles.
Morgan. Psych ward. Emily Parker with that nasty tumor.
“I’m no shrink,” Tessa continued. “But I have come across a few internet articles about post-traumatic stress disorder. You usually associate that with soldiers, right? Not someone like Morgan, who’s never been around guns or war her entire life, but I’ve definitely noticed some—”
“Just hang on a second,” Liv interrupted, looking as stunned as Sydney felt. “Can you say that again, Tessa? Just slower, like much slower.”
“Which part?”
“The whole thing.”
Tessa took a deep breath and looked ready to dive headfirst into the story again, when Sydney stepped forward, instinctively wrapping her hand around Tessa’s wrist as if to physically hold her back.
Sydney had caught the jest.
“What happened to Emily?” she asked.
“She died,” Tessa said, her flat expression perfectly capturing the shift in the room. There was an irrefutable feeling of sadness. “She was just twelve years old. So much life ahead of her.”
“Morgan blames herself,” Sydney muttered.
It wasn’t a question. Didn’t have to be. Not when the answer was so painfully obvious.
It all made sense now. The sessions with Dr. Henry, avoiding talking about work, her reaction to the accident.
Sydney was the idiot.
She’d let a thin, translucent wall of ignorance grow between her and Morgan.
She hadn’t read between the lines, hadn’t dug deep enough.
Instead of hacking away at that icy wall around Morgan with an axe, she’d used a teaspoon.
Too afraid to scare Morgan off, that she’d go running the minute Sydney even attempted to dive deeper into her life.
Morgan had kept her at arm’s length, and Sydney had let her.
And not to mention how Sydney had been far too bent up about her own curse to realize just how perfect their connection was. Good enough to break through any jinx—if it even existed, and according to Liv, it most certainly did not.
“Naturally,” Tessa responded.
Liv spoke up, her face scrunched up like she was caught mid-thought and was struggling to piece it all together. “Don’t doctors lose their patients all the time? Isn’t that as common as a seamstress getting arthritis?”
If Sydney wasn’t so intent on finding out the answer, she would’ve elbowed Liv in the ribs for being so… well, so Liv. Unfiltered. Blunt. About as subtle as a foghorn during Sunday prayer. At least it was Tessa who she was directing the question at and not Morgan.
“They do. But Emily’s death hit her harder than ever before.”
“Why?” Sydney asked softly.
Tessa ambled over to the couch and sat down, pleating her skirt beneath her as she did so.
“There was a time when Morgan and I weren’t the perfect duo.
We had a friend called Chloe Sterling. Three of us.
Best friends forever. With Morgan’s black hair, mine bordering on red and Chloe’s golden blonde hair, the teachers used to say we were like a box of crayons.
” She took a deep, shuddery breath in. “Chloe was fifteen when she got sick, like really sick, spending more time at the hospital than at school.”
Bernard walked in, oblivious to the story, and called out, “Syd, where are those blueberry muffins you brought in this—”
“GET OUT!” Sydney and Liv shouted together.