Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

PRESLEY

Wednesday crawls by despite how busy I am catching up on the work I missed the day before. I should be more tired, considering I was so keyed up after Brock dropped me off that I didn’t fall asleep until after three this morning. So much was running through my brain, specifically the fact that for at least half of the plane ride, I cuddled with Brock while we read TOK .

Just like my daydream.

He expects this to continue—me and him, sitting together and reading. He already plans on coming over tomorrow. No big reveals have happened in the book yet, but we’re both eager to find out which of us is right about the Obsidian Queen. We’d read together tonight, but we also both agree we need to catch up on sleep.

I definitely need to, or I’m going to do something stupid like tell him my feelings for him again. Everything about yesterday felt so at odds with him saying that he didn’t feel the same way about me that I did for him and him worrying about me getting the wrong idea from our friendship.

Is this what he means? That I would read into the hand-holding and the cuddling and the carrying me to safety stuff?

For goodness sake, what girl wouldn’t ?

I drive straight to my mom’s after work. I have things to talk to her about. Getting her opinion on what kept Aunt Shannon from telling me about the book for one. Asking her what she thinks about the way Brock acted yesterday for another, although I suspect I know what she’s going to say. She was so sure he liked me before. She’s going to be positive now.

I don’t know if that helps me.

I need to find more friends than just my mom.

Mrs. Westcott is marching up the street from her house when I pull up. I quickly duck down, although that probably makes me look guiltier than just facing her. I rise a little to peer out the window, relieved when she passes by my parents’ house and goes on down the street. She’s wearing flared leggings, walking shoes, a long sleeved shirt, and a vest along with a beanie. And her arms are moving in a classic power-walker way. She’s exercising. Not out to interrogate. Still I wait for her to round the block before I venture out of my car. I could not hold it together if she stopped to talk with me. Not when I have her ring in my possession.

I have to figure out how to get it back to her without me ending up arrested in the process.

I take a deep breath, pushing thoughts of the ring out of my mind so Mom doesn’t read them on my face, and head for the front door. “Hey!” I call after I’ve tapped in the code and push the door open.

My dad sits in one of the big recliners. He holds up a book. “I went to your house and got book five yesterday. Hope you don’t mind.”

I make my way into the living room. “You’re the slowest reader I’ve ever met.”

“I may be retired, but I’m not lying around the house all day reading.”

I pick up a pillow from the couch and throw it at him.

“I thought once you left the house, my pillows would be safe,” Mom says, coming into the room. She walks right over to Dad, picks up the pillow, and puts it back.

I whirl on her. “I’m going to need your whole collection of those romcom books you and Aunt Shannon both loved.” I head over to the floor-to-ceiling bookcases in the room, searching for the section where she keeps them. “Even the ones Aunt Shannon gave you.”

“Which ones?” Mom walks over to join me, eyeing me while I search.

I throw out my hands, finally finding the name I’m looking for. “The ones that are apparently written by my favorite fantasy author.” I start pulling them off the shelf. There are about five with double copies, one of Aunt Shannon’s and one of Mom’s. The reference Aunt Shannon found is probably in one of those. I’ll google search for it later.

“What are you talking about?” Mom asks.

My pile is growing. I’m going to need something to carry them in. “Do you have a box or something?”

Mom puts a hand on my arm, stopping me from the mess I’m making. “You seem … full of energy, Pres. How did yesterday go?” Her eyes rake over my face with an expression unique to mothers—a mix of detective and therapist all in one, I think. She’s searching for clues and readying herself for whatever emotions start spilling out.

“I don’t even know.” I throw up my hands. “But I don’t want to talk about Brock yet.”

Mom leans back from me, bewildered. “I didn’t ask about Brock.”

“Well.” I huff and then take a deep breath. “You should, but not yet.”

She blinks slowly at me. “Okay. So did Mr. Thornridge remember Shannon?”

“He did.” Already tears sting my eyes. It sounds so like Aunt Shannon to stalk him like that. “I have the biggest secret to tell you, and you can’t tell a soul. Aunt Shannon promised, and I’m pretty sure Gideon expects me—and you—to uphold that.”

Mom holds up a hand as though she’s testifying in court. “I promise.”

“Gideon Thornridge has a pen name. One that he writes some very popular books under.” I hold up one of the romcoms and tap the name pointedly.

Mom’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as the Forces of Vorath.”

Dad snorts, but Mom frowns at me. “I don’t know what that means.”

I wave her away. “Aunt Shannon found a vague TOK reference in one of these books,” I gesture to the mess I’ve made, “and figured it out. Then he sent her the signed book. I just don’t know why she hadn’t given it to me.”

Mom squints at me, like she’s trying to remember. “I’m sure she was going to. That book was on her nightstand after the funeral.” Mom chews on her lip the way she does when she’s going to cry and doesn’t want to. “I didn’t need a sticky note to know it was for you. I put it in your box, but I’m guessing she’d planned on showing it to you right away. And then…”

Neither of us needs her to finish that. Then she fell and hit her head and died years before ALS was supposed to take her. We knew she was going to die within ten years. She was already planning for it, but the way we lost her was worse, I think. Expecting more and being robbed of all of it.

We both stare down at the book in my hands. It’s one that’s about to be released as a movie on Netflix.

“So, about Brock?” Mom says slowly.

I lie back on the carpet and stare at the ceiling for several seconds before I answer. “Yesterday was … weird. But also amazing. I don’t know what to think about it.”

Mom turns so that her back is against the bookcase. “Weird good?”

“Yeah, but like in a ‘just for today’ kind of way. Well, that’s what it felt like. We started out super awkward, both of us being careful about what everything meant, you know? Then things got crazy at the bookstore,” I remind her. I texted her about it while we were waiting for Gideon to come to the signing because she’d seen some pictures on Instagram.

“He carried you outside.” Mom smirks.

I cover my face with one hand. “And from there it was like friends with a few benefits the rest of the day. He held my hand—not romantically but still. And basically had me cuddle with him during the plane ride home.”

“Hmmm.” Mom studies me. “So he realized he was wrong about how he felt.”

I throw up my hands toward the ceiling. “Or he doesn’t realize how he feels at all. I don’t know. I’m so confused.”

“Talk to him.”

I sit up and wag a finger at her. “No, no, no. Been there, not doing that again.”

Her expression turns patient. “I’m not saying you need to say that you have feelings for him. I’m saying you can tell him that yesterday was confusing, and you’d like to know more about how he feels about it. Like grownups.”

I let out something between a moan and a sigh. “So much easier said than done. I need him to admit something to me. I can’t be chasing him around like some obsessed fan.”

“Presley …”

I hold up a hand. “Mom. Pretend for five seconds that I’m not your perfect daughter that every man I come in contact with can’t help but fall in love with?—”

“If they all haven’t, they should have their eyes checked,” Dad interrupts from his recliner.

I wave a hand around in his direction. “Not helping. Mom, can you pretend like I’m a normal girl for a few minutes and be logical about this?”

“Definitely not.” She shrugs .

I sigh. “Talking to him won’t help if he doesn’t realize what’s going on. I just have to make him see it.”

“Maybe suggest an appointment with the eye doctor,” Dad says.

“Go back to your reading, old man. See if you can finish this series before you lose your sight.”

He throws a pillow at me and immediately gets scolded by Mom. My parents are the best.