Chapter 15
Moe
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Moe couldn't stop staring at the banana on the counter. After everything Jillian told him, he found it hard to believe time hadn't changed during Jillian's absence.
Even in Everstill, where time meant nothing, he recognized each new day, even if he forgot what he'd done the day before.
His ribs ached when he breathed, but the pain in his chest was worse. Time shouldn't bend that way. It shouldn't fold in on itself like a trick of the light. Could Everstill have the power to stop time on the other side of the veil?
Behind him, Jillian paced in tight, frantic circles. Her hands kept flying to her hair, pushing it back, then letting it fall, then pushing it back again. "I need my phone." She inhaled deeply. "I need to look up Everstill. I need to see if anyone knows what's happening. I need—"
"Jillian." He turned toward her, trying to soften his voice even though his nerves were frayed raw. "Slow down."
"I can't slow down!" The words burst out of her before she could stop them. She flinched, guilt flashing across her face. "I'm sorry. I really want to see my mom. I need to know she's okay."
Her fear hit him harder than the storm had. He wanted to tell her she was right, that they'd go right now, that he'd carry her there if he had to. But a nursing home was a building full of people and staff. He was a wanted man.
"Your mom's fine," he said, forcing steadiness he didn't feel. "That's what you said the lady on the phone told you."
"I need to see her with my own eyes," she whispered.
He looked away, jaw tightening. "I can't go near a place like that."
She stopped pacing. Her voice softened, but her eyes stayed sharp. "Why not?"
"Because it's obvious from my last time here that people know my face. The police will know who I am. If someone recognizes me, I'm done. And I can't protect you from a jail cell."
Her expression wavered between sympathy, frustration, and fear. "Then I'll go alone."
"No." He forced himself to breathe. "Not until we know what's going on."
She shook her head, tears gathering. "I can't just sit here. I need my phone. I need to look up Everstill. I need—"
"You need to breathe," he said quietly. "It's not like you can call Everstill."
"That's not..." She frowned. "I need my phone to look up information on Everstill and to search for answers on what happened to me." She pressed her palms to her eyes, shoulders trembling. "You don't know how phones work, do you?"
He scoffed. "I know phones."
"No, I mean, you don't know the internet."
There was too much information, showing him he no longer belonged to this life. Ceramic owls, framed photos, soft blankets, and phones that gave answers. He turned away, pretending to check the lock on the window, pretending he wasn't unraveling.
Time hadn't passed for Jillian while she was away. Did that mean time hadn't passed for him? The only one who could help him find answers was Finn.
"Moe... what do we do?"
He turned back to her. She looked young and fragile in her own kitchen. Everstill had carved something out of her and left a hollow space she didn't know how to fill.
And he was the one responsible for putting her in that position to get hurt.
"You can find out answers on your phone?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes."
"Then we get your phone," he said. "We figure out what the veil did. We find Finn."
"My phone is in my bag in my mom's room at the nursing home."
He cupped her cheek. "Then we go see your mom."
She nodded, wiping her eyes, but he could see the fear behind the motion. The fear that none of this was real, or worse, that it was too late.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "We'll take it slow. We'll stay out of sight. I won't let anything happen to you."
She sighed loudly and looked at him like he was the only rational thing in a world that had stopped making sense. The look hit him harder than any blow the veil could throw at him.
Her mom was in a care facility. Jillian was alone. He was responsible for her.
And he was the last person who should be around a young woman like her. Even stepping out of the house with her put her in danger. Besides the police, he had no idea who else was out to get him.
"Today is the day you kidnapped me." She shook her head slowly, eyes wide and lost. "No time has passed. My mom, if she was aware of me leaving work, hasn't had time to miss me. None of this makes sense."
"Once we find Finn, hopefully we'll have more answers. He's been here longer and will have figured things out." He kissed her forehead before thinking about what that would do.
She opened her mouth but gently closed it again. He cleared his throat. Time might've stood still for Jillian, but his feelings for Jillian had sped forward.
Jillian shook her head, grabbing his hand. "We have to go now. The nursing home closes to visitors at seven o'clock."
The ride to the nursing home was short, but every second of it scraped at Moe's nerves.
Jillian sat behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, pointing out turns with quick taps to his stomach.
Her voice was tight, breathless, threaded with urgency every time she leaned close enough to tell him where to go next.
He kept his eyes on the road, but his mind wouldn't stop circling the idea that someone could recognize him and it would be all over. Not only for him, but for Jillian, too. He'd drag her into the fallout, and he couldn't let that happen.
A squat brick building with a faded sign and a parking lot half full of cars came into view. His stomach churned. There were too many people around. Too many windows. Too many chances for someone to take a hit on him.
The second that opinion entered his head, he accepted that was how he'd lived in the past. He never claimed to have an easy life, but he had forgotten many of the details of how he lived while riding with his club.
He pulled into a spot near the back, where the shadows from a row of trees stretched across the asphalt. Jillian climbed off the bike before he even killed the engine, her hands shaking as she brushed her hair out of her face.
Her chest rose and fell too fast, and her eyes darted toward the entrance like she was afraid her mother might vanish if she didn't get inside fast enough.
"Jillian," he said quietly. "We need to think this through before we rush in there."
She turned to him, desperation shining through the fear. "I need to see Mom first. Then, I'll think."
There was more at stake. He was responsible for taking her away from her mom, scaring the shit out of her, and then holding her captive in Everstill.
While he believed they'd found common ground, she was young and unpredictable. Would she turn on him? Would she feel safe around her mom and call the cops on him?
"I know you want to see your mom." He swallowed hard. "But I can't get arrested."
Something in her expression softened. It wasn't enough to calm him, but enough to remind him she wasn't ignoring the danger he was in. She stepped closer and took his hand, her fingers threading through his like she'd done it a thousand times.
"I'm not going to tell anyone what happened to me. You brought me back. That's all that matters," she whispered.
He studied her and then nodded.
"Stay close," she whispered. "Let me handle everything."
He didn't know if having her beside him would keep the cops off him. Probably not. But when she tugged gently on his hand, he followed her anyway.
Inside, the air smelled like disinfectant and old carpet.
A woman at the front desk looked up, offering a polite smile.
Jillian smiled back and motioned ahead of them, receiving a nod of approval.
Moe angled his face away, letting his hair fall forward, pretending to study the floor tiles as they walked.
His heart hammered so hard he could feel it in his teeth. His thoughts sped forward, trying to plan what he'd do if someone yelled, chased, or pulled a gun. He had no weapon, but he wouldn't go out easily. He'd do whatever he could to remain free.
Jillian led him down a hallway lined with framed paintings of flowers and landscapes. The kind of art meant to soothe people who were already too tired to fight the world. Moe kept his head down, but he didn't miss the way Jillian's steps quickened the closer they got to her mother's room.
When she reached the door, she stopped. Her hand hovered over the handle, trembling. He touched her lower back. She inhaled deeply and opened the door. Moe stayed in the doorway with his back toward the hallway, giving Jillian space to deal with her mother.
"Mom?" Jillian's voice cracked.
Her mother sat in a recliner by the window, a blanket over her lap, a magazine open but unread in her hands. She looked up, blinking but otherwise showing no emotion at seeing her daughter or a strange man in the room.
"Mom, it's me. Jillian." Jillian dropped to her knees in front of the chair and grabbed her mom's hand.
Life flowed back into her mother's expression. "Jillian? Honey, what are you doing here? You just left."
Jillian lay her head down in her mom's lap and closed her eyes. "Mom, I am so glad to see you."
Her mother smiled, placing her hand on Jillian's head and stroking her hair. "Don't be silly. You should be out with your friends having fun, not sitting with me."
"This is where I want to be." She raised her head and gazed up at her mom with tears in her eyes.
Moe leaned against the doorframe and hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. He'd watched Jillian cry many times but not like this. No one had to tell him how much her mom meant to her. All her emotions shined on her face. It was a love he had never witnessed or experienced before.
"Did you forget something?"
Jillian let out a sound that wasn't quite a laugh and wasn't quite a sob. "Yeah. I guess I did."
Moe stayed in the doorway, but the conversation carried easily. He watched Jillian kneel beside her mother, watched her take her hand, watched her try to hold herself together while she pretended everything was okay.
He shouldn't be here. He didn't belong in this room, in this world, in this moment.
But he couldn't make himself leave.
Not when Jillian's shoulders shook. Not when her mother brushed her hair back with the same tenderness Jillian had shown him earlier. Not when he realized how much Jillian had lost and how much she stood to lose again.
He barely breathed, listening to the soft murmur of their voices.
Jillian stayed kneeling beside her mother for several minutes, her voice soft and trembling as she tried to hold onto the brief spark of recognition she'd walked in with.
But it didn't last. Moe could see the shift happen.
Her mother's eyes drifted, her focus slipping like sand through fingers.
Her responses slowed and then stopped. She stared past Jillian, her gaze unfocused, her mouth slackening into a quiet, distant expression.
Jillian leaned in and pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek, whispering something Moe couldn't hear.
She smoothed her mother's hair back, tucking a stray curl behind her ear the same way her mother had minutes earlier.
She adjusted the blanket over her mother's legs, making sure it covered her feet, then her knees, then her lap.
Each of Jillian's movements was small and careful.
They spoke more about their relationship than words.
Moe's chest tightened. He didn't belong here. He didn't belong in this room, in this life she'd built around grief and love and responsibility. But he couldn't look away either. Watching her care for her mother with such tenderness made an ache grow inside him.
After a long moment, Jillian straightened, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
She scanned the room, searching, and Moe stepped back instinctively, giving her space.
Her gaze landed on a small backpack beside the dresser.
She crossed the room quickly and crouched beside it, unzipping it with trembling fingers.
Moe stayed in the doorway, but he watched her carefully. She pulled out her wallet, her keys, a few pens, and a half-eaten granola bar. Then a flat black rectangular thing. She held it in both hands like she was afraid it might vanish.
The thing lit up. Moe stepped closer, drawn to the device.
She held up the phone. "Look at the date. It's the same day I left work."
"What is that?"
"A cell phone."
He grunted, scratching his head. "Why does it light up like a television?"
"I'll explain later." She shook her head slowly, staring at the glowing numbers as if they might rearrange themselves into something that made sense.
Despite not understanding the technology Jillian used, a weight landed on him hard. The veil had stolen months from Jillian's life and returned her to the exact moment she'd left, giving her life back. Time with her mom.
Jillian looked up at him, her eyes wide and hollow. "It's like none of it happened."
He didn't know how to make sense of it himself. All he knew was that the veil wasn't done with them. And whatever came next, he had to keep her safe.
Even if this world—her world—was the one that scared him most.