Chapter 31
thirty-one
. . .
I eventually fall sound asleep and am awoken an hour later by the buzzing of my phone beside my head. I answer groggily, “Hello?”
“Lacy. Sweetie. How are you doing?” It’s my boss, Joanne.
“Fine,” I say. “I mean, better. Sorry—my brain’s mush.”
“Understandable. And your brother? Can I ask?”
“My brother? I don’t—” Wait, no. Kit told her I have a brother.
Ugh, how long will I have to continue his lies?
I’m going to get caught, because Meggie is literally the singular person I can lie to successfully, and that’s only because I’ve had years of practice.
“I mean, he’s fine. Or he will be. Stable and recovering.
” I cannot remember exactly what Kit told her happened to my fictitious brother, but I do remember he implied he was on the edge of death.
She breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s great to hear. And, of course, I know it’s a stressful time, but…are you able to come back to work? It’s been a little over a week, and we really are short-staffed. Since you didn’t call, I assumed you were coming in today, but I wanted to be sure.”
Oh god. It’s Sunday. I always work on Sundays. I pull the phone down from my ear to check the time. One thirty p.m. My shift starts in half an hour.
“Yes, yes. I’ll be there,” I answer.
“Good. See you soon.”
I leap from the bed and get dressed as quickly as I can, forgo any makeup (mostly because I pick up the mascara Kit stole and almost start crying again), and throw my hair into a clump on top of my head.
Before I leave, I spot a gold necklace with a small peridot stone sitting in a dish on my dresser.
August’s necklace—the one she left at my place before she died.
I put it on then cover the stone with my palm, letting it press into my chest for a moment.
Then I snatch salt from my kitchen and holy water, throw them in my bag, and bolt to my car.
When I arrive, I have four minutes until my shift starts.
I take a second to breathe then run around back and line the rear entrance with salt before running back to the front and doing the same.
The customers’ feet will break the line, I’m sure, but a precaution is a precaution.
I shove the salt back in my bag and walk into the store, heading straight for the back.
The moment I enter the breakroom, Matthias tackles me in a hug. I sink into it. “It’s you, right?” he says into my shoulder before pulling away.
“Yeah, still me.”
I pick up the hem of my shirt so he can get a peek at my tattoo under the protective wrapping.
“Cute,” he says unconvincingly, holding his hand over it like he’s expecting it to emit heat.
I cover the tattoo again. “Lying is useless. I know it’s ugly—but hopefully it helps. It hurt like a bitch.”
Matthias hands me my lanyard with my nametag, a rainbow one I wear all year round, before he puts his white, pink, and light-blue one over his head.
We head out onto the floor together. After the most unbelievable week and a half of my life, everything feels normal.
This will probably jinx it, but I hope it lasts.
I work my shift with a smile on my face, happy to be back in the swing of things.
Though, the smile isn’t real. The normalcy of this day is overwhelming.
The bandaging around my tattoo is itchy.
And I’m lonely. Stupidly lonely and alone.
How sad is that? But I’m happy. Right? Because this is what I wanted.
This is what I needed. My body is mine, and it will stay mine.
Eventually, as time moves on, Kit will be a distant memory.
Nothing but a wild story to never share with anyone but Matthias.
While on my break, I text my sister to see if she’s free tonight.
While I did just see her, I feel like it’s been forever.
I don’t get off until ten, and even though I’m exhausted, I’m not that thrilled to go to sleep.
The last time I slept, it was dreamlessly, but I’m afraid when I go to sleep tonight, my mind will be consumed by him.
She responds nearly right away asking me to meet her at a bar around the corner from her place. She also adds, We need to chat about your life choices!!
I sigh but secretly appreciate how much she cares.
I believe our occasional disconnect comes from completely different childhoods despite growing up in the same house and being raised by the same parents.
She had a father for most of her childhood, while I had one for let’s say half of my childhood.
She had a distant, grieving mother for her teen years, I had an overprotective one for mine.
Once the store is closed and my shift is over, I bid goodbye to my coworkers and get in my car. I hear something behind me as soon as I close the door, but when I whip around ready to fight, no one is there. At least, no one I can see.
I drag my hands down my face with a groan. We are focusing on meeting my sister for a drink and that is all.
I pull into an open spot near the back of the lot at the bar and make my way in, shoving my hands in my jacket pockets to keep warm on this chilly evening.
As I yank open the glass door into the bar, I paint that smile on my face once more.
Meggie is already waiting for me at a high-top table in the middle of the room.
Her bobbed hair is sporting its natural curls, and even though I can’t see her feet, I know she’s wearing heels.
She stands to give me a hug (yep, heels), and I sink into her, holding tight, engulfed in warmth and the scent of roses. I missed her so goddamn much.
When she manages, she pulls away with her eyes soft and worried before I take my seat across from her.
“How are you doing?” she asks, sliding into her seat.
“The last two times I’ve seen you, you’ve been a mess.
When you showed up at my house and at the club.
” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you were on drugs. ”
I scrunch my eyebrows. “I don’t do…right. Yeah. The drugs. That was a poor decision.” One that she will bring up over and over for the rest of our lives.
“Seriously. But you didn’t answer my question. How are you?” She reaches across the table and squeezes my arm.
I shrug her off. “Fine.”
She narrows her eyes as she draws her arm away. “Liar. You’re not still bummed about that guy that ditched you, right?”
I tap my fingers as I attempt to recall my fib. Right. I remember. “No,” I say. “No. Who cares about him?”
“Then what’s your deal? That ghost investigation do a number on you? You should be more careful on those. Or is it something else?”
I could say, “A demon possessed me, we bonded, we had a detailed discussion about how we would have sex, as if that was even a possibility, then he got me off with his hand that was technically also my hand, then I exorcised him, and now I’m sad, because I really, really like him and may have actually fallen for him, even though that is absolutely outrageous and no one ever should fall in love with an evil, soulless demon who basically kidnaped you and held you hostage for over a week, even if he was trying to protect you, but I’m not all that sure he is soulless or truly evil, and hey, I know I almost died like twice, but it wasn’t a terrible time. ”
But luckily, I do have enough willpower to refrain from word vomiting all that, and instead say a half-truth, “Tired, mostly. I’ve been working on a video for a contest I’m entering, and it’s been a lot of work. I got some good footage, though. I just need to put it all together and edit.”
Meggie smiles, likely relieved that that is all that is wrong with me. “That’s good. What do you get out of this contest if you win it?”
I cast my eyes downward, somewhat embarrassed to think I have a chance at this. “A pilot for my own TV show.”
Her eyes grow wide, and she claps her hands together. “That would be amazing! Oh, you are so going to win this, Lace. Need help with anything? I can rework your Instagram. Your aesthetic is too dark and moody.”
I smile and shake my head, both shocked and delighted by this response.
Meggie has always been verbally unsupportive of the paranormal investigating, but it comes from a place of worry.
From the concern that I only do it as a method to bring August back—which, I do, in a sense.
She does not at all believe in ghosts, nor does she understand what I’m doing.
“My aesthetic is fine. A friend helped me get the footage I needed, so now it’s down to editing, which always works best for me as a solo project.”
Her eyebrows perk up, and it takes me a second to realize why.
The use of the word friend. It’s not that friends are a foreign concept to me, but after August, I let go of my friends.
I mean, there’s Matthias and Meggie, but that’s really all.
I lost the most important one, and keeping the others…
well, what if I lost them, too? So, for fear of losing them, I gave them away.
Pushed them away. Silly. Done only to protect my heart, but I ended up hurting myself anyway.
So, the mention of a friend means that I am spending time with someone besides her, my coworkers, and random Bumble or Tinder dates that always go up in flames. Or sizzle out like water on a frying pan. Whatever metaphor you want.
“Who is this friend? New? Old? Matthias?”
My jaw hitches. “New. It doesn’t matter. I don’t think I’ll see him again.”
“Why not?”
“He went home. He lives far away.”
“Where?”
Hell. “Missouri.”
“Ah. Too bad.” She takes a sip from her wine. “Well, I guess that’s what texting is for. You can at least keep in touch with him.”
I smile like my heart isn’t shattering at the mere thought of being able to have something as normal as a texting relationship with him. “Yeah. Totally.” I excuse myself to go grab a drink from the bar.
Thankfully, when I sit back down, we move on from the subject of my social life.
Meggie asks, “Have you talked to Mom lately?”
I cringe. “No. Not really.”
“Well, keep it that way. She’s training for a 5K and literally won’t shut up about it.”
We spend the next couple of hours talking and laughing, staying at the bar nearly until closing. I tightly hug her goodbye at the end of the night and tell her to get home safe. She tells me the same. We drive off separately.
When I walk in my apartment, I do my ritual of shutting the curtains and locking everything that can be locked, but now I’ve added a new step of securing my salt lines.
Sleep still sounds like a nightmare waiting to happen.
I pull out my laptop and decide to do some more research on keeping demons away.
I read up more on the charms you can buy so you don’t have to permanently ink something onto your body.
It’s fine. I feel safer with the tattoo, but extra protection is not a bad thing.
I’m still not positive it will work. Not that I’m looking forward to putting it to the test. Not at all.
Nowhere in my town or the towns over sell charms like that, but I do find a store in New York City that does.
Unsurprising. You can buy anything in that city.
New York is only a train ride away from me, so I can try to go there on my next day off in a couple of days.
I’ll be able to get a charm for Meggie. She’ll be more open to wearing that than a tattoo, for sure.
And if I add a sapphire, her birthstone, to it, it’s guaranteed she will wear it every day for the rest of her life.
I keep up with my research, so much so that by the time my eyes get too heavy to fight with, it’s past three a.m. I hardly have time to close the laptop before I pass out on the couch.