“Not right now.” I stared at the coffee stain on the wall. “What Jack did to you is wrong. The things he did to all of us are wrong. We’re going to have to get past it all if we’re going to find him, and you’re going to have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” She shook her head. “Me, trust you?”
“Please stop fighting with me all the time.”
Abruptly, she stood and disappeared into the tiny kitchen, staying away long enough that I wondered if I should go after her. Then she returned with a handful of paper towels and dropped to her knees to wipe furiously at the coffee-stained wall.
“Kaleb, I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want to fight with anyone. But you just asked me to trust you. What about you trusting me? How can any of you stand to look at me?” An ocean of desolation and loneliness waved across the room. “After everything that happened, how could you ask me to move into your house? I killed your father.”
“The past is the past.” A world of hurt revolved inside her, so twisted I wasn’t sure how to respond. I stood, reached her in three steps, and kneeled down beside her. She stilled but didn’t meet my eyes. “What happened wasn’t your fault. It was Jack and Cat’s. They used you, forced you.”
“That’s not true. How could I have done those things-pursued Michael that way, been jealous of Emerson to the point of hating her, tried to kill your dad-and succeeded-unless I wanted to?” There were tears in her eyes, and her skin was blotchy. “I had to want to, right?”
“I don’t think we understand everything about Jack. We didn’t even know about his ability to steal people’s memories. Think about it. No one ever asked why he was here. Or maybe we did, and he took the memory away from us.”
Ava picked up the now empty coffee cup and placed the remaining paper towels on the sideboard. “Taking too many memories without replacing them leaves a void.”
A void like the one inside her. It was terrifying, the nasty, black, hate-filled pockets of self-loathing, the empty spaces where fear and doubt took up residence. Nothing changed her emotional landscape. Joy never managed to creep into the mix, overtake the darkness, offer hope.
If my mom ever woke up, I wondered if she’d feel the same way.
“Well, then, let’s make sure it doesn’t happen again.” I took the coffee cup out of her hand and nodded toward her room. “Just start packing.”
I’d carried the last bag to Ava’s new room in my house when my cell rang.
“It’s Em,” she said when I picked up. She hadn’t waited for a hello, and she didn’t take a breath before continuing. “After the meeting today, Michael and I had an argument-I mean, a discussion-and now we need you to come downtown.”
“I don’t do couples counseling.”
She made a raspberry sound into the phone. “Just come meet us. Have you ever heard of Murphy’s Law Coffee?”
Chapter 7
I stepped into the coffee shop, and a bell rang over my head.
I’d walked past Murphy’s Law a million times, but I’d never been inside. I wasn’t one for sitting, and sipping a hot beverage while chatting someone up wasn’t on my list of favorite things to do. Even so, I inhaled deeply, appreciating the mingling smells of baked goods and freshly ground coffee.
Stunning framed nature photographs hung on every patch of the sunny yellow walls. Shelves were packed tight with new and used books, and a children’s section boasted low tables full of puzzles and toys.
I found Em and Michael in the front corner of the room at a table surrounded by a grouping of overstuffed orange chairs. They reminded me of the giant toadstools from Alice in Wonderland.
“What’s so mysterious you couldn’t share it over the phone?” I asked Emerson when I reached them. I dropped into one of the chairs and tried to relax against the fat cushions.
“Nothing, now,” Em said, gazing out the huge plate-glass window, holding a tiny cup containing something very dark.
Her voice didn’t hold a tenth of the energy I’d heard when she called.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I thought I had an answer. To the finding Jack thing.” She tipped the cup and drained it of its contents before placing it on the empty saucer in front of her. “But I was wrong. And stupid. And a terrible friend.”
“No, you aren’t,” Michael reassured her, touching her lightly on the knee. “It’s not like you asked for a frivolous reason.”
“She’d never ask me to do something like that.” The trust she had in him-the trust they had in each other-was so intense that I felt alien and intrusive.
I rapped my knuckles against the table, wishing I had something productive to do with my hands. “I can go… if you need me to…”
“No, don’t leave,” Michael said. He inclined his head slightly away from the table. “Just give us a second.”
I followed the smell of baked goods. Even though the building had obviously been around for a while, everything in the place was neat and organized, from the highly polished floor, which was stained a dark chocolate brown, to the selection of books in the bookcases. I reached the bakery display case and leaned down to peer through the impeccably clean glass.
I spied a sight that enticed me way more than any éclair or doughnut ever could.
I’d know that back end anywhere. Just last night, my hands had been on it.
Tiger Girl was behind the counter.
Knowing she most likely hadn’t forgotten or forgiven, I stayed down and tried to figure out how to escape without belly crawling to the exit. Then she moved out of sight, and I heard the swinging door to the back of the shop open and close.
I stood and shot back to the table. Emerson and Michael looked up at me in surprise. “You know what? I need to go. Can we meet up later? I’ll find you. Okay.”
Their focus shifted to something behind me, and I cursed under my breath.
“Em, can we talk in the back for a sec? I feel like I need to explain,” Tiger Girl said, her husky voice insanely close to my right ear. “I’m so sorry-”
Em interrupted. “No, I am.”
Tiger Girl knew Emerson. Emerson knew Tiger Girl.
When she noticed I hadn’t moved, Em started to make introductions. I shook my head furiously and eyed the front door. So close, yet so far.
Em ignored me. “Lily, I want you to meet my friend Kaleb. Kaleb Ballard, this is my best friend, Lily Garcia.”
Best friend. Awesome.
I turned to face her and all brain function ceased. Long dark hair knotted on top of her head, skin like butter, and curves that begged me to reach out and touch, all combining to completely obliterate the memory of her solid smack across my face.
For the first time in my life, the morning reality was exponentially better than the fantasy of the night before.
When I found my voice again, I said, “I’m Kaleb. And I’m also sorry.”
Lily leaned her hip against the side of Em’s chair, crossed her arms, and stared at me with hazel eyes. “Not so nice to meet you, sorry.”
“How do you two know each other?” Em asked.
Lily’s nuclear gaze remained steady. “Remember how I told you about the guy grabbing my junk right before that lunatic took the stage with his gun?”
“No,” Em breathed. “Kaleb, you didn’t.”
“Oh, but I did.”
“Are you hungover?” Lily asked me. Not in concern. Her hair slipped out of the loose knot to fall around her shoulders.
I shook my head and tried not to pay attention.
“Too bad. So.” She looked at me with the perfect combination of disinterest and disdain. “How is it that you happen to know my best friend?”
The hissing and whirling of the coffee machine behind her stopped, and the shop held its breath.
“His dad is Liam Ballard.” Em, eager to diffuse the situation, hurried to answer for me. “The man Michael and I went back in time to save.”