“It’s exhaustion,” I say.
“If this happens again . . .”
“Hospital,” I reply quickly. “I promise.”
He exhales, but his worry lines don’t diminish. I can tell he has another reason for talking to me tonight.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s your sister.”
My heart skips a beat. “What’s wrong with Lucy?”
“It’s just that . . .” He glances toward the hallway, lowering his voice. “I took her to see the doctor this morning. And after, Lucy said she had a clean bill of health. But there is something different about her. You see it, don’t you?”
“Like a new piercing?”
“I don’t know,” my father says. “I can’t quite figure out what it is.” He rubs his forehead, a movement similar to one of my own.
“It’s okay, Dad.” I rest my cheek on his shoulder. “She’s probably found a weirdo boyfriend who you’ll hate and forbid her to spend time with. Then everything will be back to normal.”
“Sounds awful, but I hope you’re right.”
I close my eyes, thinking about Lucy, about the horrible things happening to me. It’s like our family is falling apart—breaking down a little each day. I’m not sure what to do anymore, but I have to fix this myself. Marceline said that no one else could help me. And I’m starting to see that she’s right.
I promise my father that I’ll talk to Santo about cutting down on my hours, and in return he agrees to try to do the same at the church. I feel immediately better because that means he’ll be around more for me and Lucy. It gives me hope that there’s a chance we can get through this. Even so, I secretly hope it doesn’t resurrect his family game-night ideas.
I plan to go to Marceline’s, and this time I’m not just going for her creepy mythology lessons. I want answers. I want to know how to stop what’s happening to me.
I ask my dad to drop me off at the café on Mission Boulevard, telling him I’m meeting Abe for lunch. He doesn’t need to know that I haven’t heard from him. I’d checked my phone all morning, thinking he’d call, but there was nothing. What does Abe think happened? Did he feel the cold, or was it just me? Does he think I’m a prude who can’t handle being touched? His perfect silence is killing me.
After my father drops me off, I wait for him to drive away and then start toward Marceline’s. I didn’t have her number to call—it wasn’t even listed—but I have to talk to her. She can’t turn me away.
When I get closer to her house, I notice someone just ahead. My heartbeat quickens. Harlin is sitting on his motorcycle at the curb—looking smoking hot as usual.
He glances up as I approach, a slow smile pulling at his lips. “I’d love to tell you this is a coincidence,” he says.
I hike my backpack up on my shoulder. “Are you saying you’re here for me and not a tarot card reading?”
“I am definitely here for you,” he says in that same low voice. “I’ve already had my cards read this week.”
I laugh. “Hope it was good news.” I pause, looking him over. “How did you know I’d be here?”
He shrugs. “Just did.”
I stand on the sidewalk, wondering how Harlin could have guessed something like that. I consider asking him, but I’m afraid of the answer. Does he know about the stories Marceline told me? Does he know about me?
“I have to go,” I say, pointing toward the house. I start down the path to the front door when Harlin calls to me.
“She’s not home,” he says. “I already knocked on the door.”
“Oh.” I stop then, both disappointed and relieved. I want answers, but at the same time, I’m terrified of what they are. “Do you think she’ll be back later?” I ask, not clear on how Harlin fits into the life of an old psychic in the first place.
“Maybe. If you want, I can keep you company while you wait.”
I look around the street. “Here?”
“Or I can take you to lunch,” he offers. “That is, if you’re free?”
“Well,” I say, starting toward him. I don’t know what it is about him, but when I’m around Harlin I’m so much braver. “I guess it depends.”
His mouth spreads in a slow smile. “On?”
I motion toward his bike. “Are you going to take me on that Harley?”
Harlin’s hazel eyes flash wickedly. “Yeah,” he says, reaching for my hand. “I am.”
When he touches me it’s like a current of electricity, warming me all over. He holds my gaze as he licks his bottom lip, the movement sexy. Inviting. I lean forward, planning on kissing him right here on the street. But before I get close enough, he turns away.
“Someone’s looking for you,” he murmurs, letting his hand slip from mine. I’m dazed, caught up in the moment, when I hear my name.
“Elise!”
My stomach drops when I see Abe jog toward us. He waves, casually glancing at Harlin, and then slows down his approach.
I take a step back, feeling like a terrible person. I was just out on a date with Abe last night, and here I am flirting with Harlin. I almost tried to kiss him. What was I thinking after what happened with Abe?
“I’ve been searching everywhere for you, querida,” Abe says with a wry smile. “Off getting harassed by transients again, I see.”
Harlin chuckles from next to me, folding his hands in his lap as he rests back on his bike, not looking intimidated in the least. I, on the other hand, think I might puke.
“Abe,” I say, my voice a little weak. “This is Harlin.” Abe sizes Harlin up with little more than a head nod before turning his dark gaze on me. Technically Abe isn’t my boyfriend. And honestly, after last night, I don’t really want him to be. It was a disaster.
“Elise.” Abe takes my wrist, tugging me gently forward. “We need to talk. I came to meet you, and Margie said you called in. I went to your house—no answer. Then I find you on the street with some . . . guy.”
I don’t appreciate the insinuation, the accusation in his words. Any guilt I had for leading Abe on quickly evaporates. He’s different somehow, his charming exterior fading into possessiveness. But I don’t belong to him.
“Stop,” I say, trying to twist free of his grip.
Abe’s face drains of color and his eyes narrow. Fog begins to slide inside my head, whispering. Blocking out my thoughts.