Taking a deep breath, I stashed the towel in the hamper and opened the door. He stumbled into the foggy bathroom, a tangle of arms and legs, before catching himself on the doorframe.
“I’m fine. But I really need to get in the shower.” When he just stared at me I said, “We can hang out later, okay?”
I tried to close the door but Cash stuck his shoe in the doorway and pushed it open again.
“What’s going on, Em?” His chocolate-colored eyes searched my face. “Every time I see you, you’re writing in that stupid journal. You’ve been acting paranoid at school and you’re sleeping with your light on again. Don’t keep it all in like last time. Talk to me. I want to help.”
I stared at his chest for a long moment before I said anything.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I forced a smile. He didn’t look like he believed me. “Look, I just had a bad dream, okay? Everybody has them. I didn’t give you crap when you had that nightmare about the clowns and Justin Bieber.”
I expected him to laugh and defend himself by saying how drunk he’d been when he had that dream, but he didn’t. He wasn’t going to let this go.
“It’s not just the dream and you know it,” he said, his brows drawn together. “You’re pulling away again. I can feel it.”
I looked away, knowing he was right. Hating lying to him. “I said I’m fine. I’ve even been taking my pills. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“I want you to talk to me. I want you to stop feeding me the same bullshit you feed your mom. It doesn’t work on me, Em. I know you.”
How was I supposed to tell him I didn’t know dreams from reality anymore? That I felt like someone or something was watching me. That I could feel them like a rush of warmth constantly running across my skin.
The answer was: I couldn’t.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at him. “Cash, please.”
He made a frustrated sound. “Fine. Then hurry up and let’s get something to eat. You’ll feel better.”
I rolled my eyes. “You just want me to cook you something.”
“That, too.” He put his hands on the doorframe so I couldn’t shut him out. “Come on, Em. Don’t make me go back home yet.”
I sighed. Cash was like a stray dog. Mom fed him one peanut butter and jelly sandwich the day his mom left when we were six, and I hadn’t been able to get rid of him since. He’d always be that sad boy sitting on my front porch with jelly on his cheek to me. “I’ll bake you some scones after I get out of the shower, but Mom will ground me for an eternity if she finds you here. Sorry.”
He frowned and raked his fingers through his black spikes. “Fine. If I survive the wrath of Dad, then I’ll meet you out front in an hour. I’ll take you to get your stupid coffee.”
I waved him off but he stopped in the hall, his fingers tapping on the wall next to the last family picture we’d ever taken with my dad. “Who’s Allison?” he asked.
I froze. “What?”
“Allison,” he said. “You said it in your sleep the other night. You said, ’I’m not Allison.’” Muffled memories that didn’t belong to me clouded my mind and bled into the corners of my vision like ink. I blinked them away, wanting to scrub myself clean of them.
“Who is she?”
I shook my head and touched the doorknob, ready to put an end to the conversation. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
Chapter 3
Finn Maeve was getting better at this. It made my insides crawl thinking she’d been this close while I was away. She’d been in Emma’s bathroom, for God’s sake. Ten feet from her bedroom. If she’d chosen to do something more than scare her, I wouldn’t have been there to stop it.
I rubbed the back of my neck and stared at Emma across the sunny little kitchen. I had to figure something out. There had to be a better way than gambling with her life every time I got called out.
Rachel, Emma’s mother, buzzed around the kitchen like a bumblebee in yellow and black workout clothes while Emma wiped flour from the counter and placed the milk back into the fridge. They were in the same room, but it felt like they were on opposite sides of the world. I wondered if it had been like this before her father died.
A timer dinged. Emma slipped on her oven mitts and pulled out a tray of pumpkin scones. Her mother plopped down onto a stool and started picking at one of the hot pastries. “I’m always starving after those Spin classes.”
Emma slapped her hand away and started piling the scones into a brown paper sack. “These are for Cash.”
“There’s a whole tray!”
Emma sighed and tossed her one out of the bag. “You do know how to cook, you know. You certainly didn’t live off cereal alone before I learned my way around a kitchen.”
“Yes,” her mother said. “But the stuff you bake always tastes better and I’m running late.”
“For what?”
“I’m meeting Parker,” her mother said, smiling. “He’s driving me up to some little place near Owens Lake for brunch. They’re supposed to have amazing frittatas.”
Emma stared at the counter. “Don’t you have to work?”
“I have an open house at three, but he promised to have me back in time.”
Emma looked out the window. She was remembering again, which meant her pills weren’t working.
I wondered how long it would be before they started jamming a new prescription down her throat to make her forget. Maeve’s stunt in the bathroom wasn’t helping matters either. If I’d gotten there in time, I could have done something. At the very least cleaned it off the mirror before she could see it. I hated seeing her afraid. She deserved so much more than this.
I stood beside her and imagined what it might be like to talk to her. For her to know that I was standing there praying to the heavens for the ability to taste just one of those damned scones.
Standing close enough to feel her breath, I reached up and watched my fingers create silver sparks against her hair. Emma closed her eyes and the tension melted from her shoulders, like maybe she could feel what I was doing. I didn’t think it was possible, but I did it anyway, hoping somehow, some way, I could make her feel safe. It would have to be enough.
She tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear and turned away. “I have to go to school,” she said, grabbing her bag. “Are you going to be home for dinner?”
“No,” Rachel set down her scone and wiped her hands on a napkin. “Parker’s picking me up after the open house for some work banquet he wants to drag me to. I could have him come here if you want to meet him. He’s been asking to meet you.” She sounded hopeful.
“No. That’s okay.” Emma clenched her jaw and looked away.
Rachel picked up the little orange pill bottle that always sat in the same place on the counter. “You forgot your pill.”
Emma flinched. “I already took one.”
Her mother’s blond brows pulled together. “Please, honey. Don’t make me count them. You know… you know I’m just trying to help you.”
Emma snatched the bottle from her mother’s open palm, fingers trembling, and popped open the bottle. When she swallowed one, I wanted to pull the pill out of her throat. To tell her she wasn’t crazy. To tell her the truth. But that wasn’t an option. I was breaking enough rules just being here.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” Rachel pleaded.
Emma’s brows scrunched together and she chewed on her bottom lip. She looked so much like Allison when she was mad it made me ache.
“You know what happened last time you got off your meds. Please don’t put either of us through that again.”
Emma sighed. “I took it, didn’t I?”
Rachel nodded and stared down into her coffee cup. “Right. Sorry.”