My cheeks heat as I remember that I asked the PI to do something far more sinister. To trace Alaric’s calls and texts. Just in case he wasn’t single and I had to…do something…about the competition.
Luckily, his search turned up empty.
Dr. Lockwood is thirty-five and single. Doesn’t have fuck buddies or dating apps on his phone either.
Starting tomorrow, I’ll make sure he never does.
For now, the thermostat.
I make my way through our living room, where the gray, deep-set sectional dominates the space, its overstuffed cushions made for lounging. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I take in the fall in Manhattan. People clutch their coats. Their hair whips around them. Gold, orange, and red leaves lash back and forth on the trees.
What I don’t see when I go back to scouring the walls is the damn thermostat.
“Where is it?” I squint, taking in the rows of identical switches and panels.
This place is too modern for its own good.
“Lil, you’re overreacting,” Hope huffs in that way that means she isn’t exasperated at all.
She likes it when I fuss over her, just like I do. It’s the kind of warmth we never had, not even from the Griggs, as good as they were to us.
“You’re not catching a cold your first week here.”
“Lil…”
“Ah, there it is!”
A few clicks on the thermostat’s pad, and the heater hums to life, the sound low like Mom’s was. It used to be so quiet, in fact, that I could hear the sharp crack of her hand, or her shoe, connecting with my body.
“So…” Hope materializes next to me just as I’m whipping my sweater off.
“So?” I ask, praying she won’t bring up Alaric again.
“Let’s sit first.”
“Okay.”
We don’t say a word on our way to the living room. Once there, I drop my sweater over the back of the sectional and twist my hair into a messy bun. Then we both crash onto the couch.
“Um, I don’t want you to freak out. It’s not bad.” Our eyes meet as she turns her head to me. “Not like that time I was almost kicked out of school anyway.”
“That wasn’t bad.” The memory has my lips quirking. “Mr. Griggs taught us self-defense for a reason. That bully was it.”
Her, and my mom in case she showed up, or Hope’s parents if they ever got paroled.
Thankfully, neither happened.
Hope lets out a laugh. “Yes, she was.”
When she grows quiet again, I nudge her shoulder. “What, then?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.” Hesitation has her worrying her bottom lip. “I can’t choose between the colleges or the courses we’ve been going over, so I think I’m just going to put it on hold. I’ll figure it out next year. Promise.”
“Okay, but…” My brow furrows. “Is everything okay? Last time we talked about this, you had a few options you were excited about.”
“Wait, seriously?” Her eyes light up. “Can I really wait a full year to choose?”
“Of course.” I take her palm in mine and level her with a big sister gaze. “Now. What’s going on?”