12 Hours Earlier
The alarm clock blares beside me, and I roll over with a groan. It’s been six days since I left Mage Hollow—144 hours since I walked away from Max, barreled into my mother’s house, packed my shit, and raced off.
This week has been nothing short of hellacious for so many reasons, but coupling the disappointment on my mom’s face when I said I couldn’t stay for dinner with the absolute devastation knowing that I may never see Max again has been a lot. To say I’m struggling would be a gross understatement. I’m drowning, completely submerged in paperwork that’s all wrapped up in a bow that screamspathetic.
And don’t get me started on Beth’s book.
As I turn to slap my alarm for what feels like the twelfth time this morning, I find it perched exactly where it is every morning—spread open to the next clue with a pencil floating mid-air above it on my dresser.
Tossing the covers off, I rub my eyes, trying to pull myself out of my stupor. Levi, Alex, and I were at the arena until well past midnight, putting the final documents together for the lawyers. As suspected, I was able to find both physical and digital proof of every payment received and every donation made. The reporter—and the too big for her britches mom—will be able to stick their exposé where the sun doesn’t shine around noon.
The only thing left to do is sit down with Mr. Bennedito, the Flames’ in-house counsel, then it’s business as usual. In other words, I’ll be sorting through the thousands of emails waiting to be answered from prospective spotlight players and gala vendors.
Shuffling to the kitchen, I roll my eyes at the mess I’m pretty sure I noticed last night but chose to ignore. Mae was cooking again, which means there’s a pile of dishes so high I’ll be lucky to fit the coffeepot under the faucet for a quick rinse.
"Hey." The offending chef waltzes into the kitchen in a neon orange bathrobe and pink bunny slippers. "Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it when I wake up."
Glancing at the time on the microwave clock, my mind twists in confusion.
"It’s 7:00… in the morning."
"And?" Mae looks as confused as I feel.
"Are you sleepwalking?" I do my best to push the coffeepot under the faucet, only bumping a few plates as I do.
"No? Is that something I normally do?"
Spinning, I place the semi-clean pot onto the hot plate and dump just enough grounds to fuel me through another long dayinto the mesh holder at the top. Pressing the on button, I lean against the counter.
"I don’t think so? But it’s not nighttime, so… nevermind."
Having this discussion with her isn’t worth the energy. Now that I’m pretty sure things are good to go with the whole debacle at work, I plan to drink a cup of coffee, attempt to finish the puzzle book so it’ll stop taunting me, and ready myself for the day. Whatever Mae does has nothing to do with me.
When the drip stops, I pour a cup of black coffee and make my way back into the solace of my room. Mae stared at me confused for a few minutes before falling onto the couch and promptly beginning to snore. I’m starting to think I might need a new roommate or, better yet, no roommate at all.
A pang sinks into my stomach—Max would’ve been the perfect person to live with. I could’ve had Benny snuggles—and Max snuggles—any time I wanted. I miss him so much it hurts, but I think I’ve been too busy this week to really realize just how much.
Grabbing the book and pencil from my dresser as I pass, I set my coffee on my nightstand and slip back under the covers. As I thumb through the last two clues, a guilty feeling gnaws at me. The entire premise of this book was to do it with someone, to do it with him. I scan the next clue:
2. Down
An agreement between friends.
The answer is crystal clear—understanding. Probably because it’s a word I’ve turned over in my mind several times over the last week. Max was understanding, my family not so much. They were happy that I had my job back but sad that I had to run out. Howie texted me a few times, mad at first that I left without a goodbye, then sad for me with an undercurrent of pity that feels like more than I can stomach right now.
My phone buzzes on the bed beside me, Mal’s name illuminating the screen.
"Hey," I answer.
"She’s alive!" my sister shouts loudly, and I rip the phone from my ear, smashing the speaker button.
"Jesus… if I wasn’t that would’ve woken me from the tomb."
She giggles. "Oh, sorry, I just wanted Mom to know you actually answered." I can hear a door open and close in the background as the faint sound of the girls playing drifts away. "How are you? What’s going on?"
I gave my mom a brief play-by-play as I stuffed my belongings into my suitcase and ran out the door to head back to Golden City, but other than that, our conversations have been limited.
"I’m surviving. The stuff with work should be done today."