Without a sound, the slat lifted.
I stared into the dark hatch but didn’t reach into it. I carefully set the floorboard aside, took my phone out of my pocket, and called the one person I didn’t want to speak to.
Ten minutes later, a car rumbled up my driveway. I stepped out of my bedroom and walked to the front door to unlock it. Liam and Lucas got out of the black SUV and then trailed me through my old home.
I pointed to the hatch. “I didn’t touch anything.”
Liam shone the light from his phone into the hole, catching the metallic glint of the stack of packages my cousin had crammed inside. With no refrigeration, was the Sillin even salvageable? I didn’t ask. I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about was that Liam and Lucas didn’t assume I’d had a hand in hiding the Boulders’ drugs.
Liam scooped the foil packets out and dropped them on the dusty floor.
“Are they all there?” Lucas asked.
Liam counted them out slowly. “There’s one missing.”
One out of thirty or so. Twenty-four pills to a packet.
When Liam raised his gaze to mine, I tensed up. “I didn’t take it.”
An emotion flared in his eyes. Pain? Regret? I averted my gaze, the ache of being in his presence still too raw.
“Ness, I wasn’t insinuating that you had.” He straightened up and tentatively stepped toward me. “Thank you for finding these. And for reporting them.”
I nodded, gaze on the hodgepodge of Sillin.
He touched my cheek, and I jerked backward.
“I should go.” I turned and started through the house, not looking at anything but the floor. I was afraid that my heart, which already felt enlarged with grief, would balloon right out of my chest if I caught sight of something that reminded me of my parents.
I got back into the car, and under the canopy of stars, with tears dripping and drying on my cheeks, I left my dark home and the stash of drugs that had caused so much harm to pass.
Freshly brewed coffee was waiting on my desk when I got in the next morning. I wondered if the drink was for me, and when no one came to claim it, I sipped it. I’d slept fitfully, so caffeine was extremely welcomed.
After I’d left, Liam looped in the whole pack about the recovered drugs. He didn’t mention specifics, like where they’d been found and by whom, but I bet people phoned him to find out. News traveled fast through the pack.
I took another much-needed sip of the scalding beverage. It was deliciously aromatic, almost like it had been steeped with caramel and cinnamon.
Since August wasn’t working from the warehouse, I sent him a text: Do I have you to thank for the coffee?
His answer came much later. Was it good?
ME: Amazing. You’ll have to tell me what brand it was.
AUGUST: Glad you liked it.
AUGUST: How are you feeling?
I rubbed my brow.
AUGUST: Ness?
ME: Fine.
AUGUST:…
ME: What is… supposed to mean?
AUGUST: It was me grunting.
Smiling, I scoured my list of emojis until I found one that looked like a flick. I sent it.
AUGUST: OK?
ME: That was me flicking you.
August sent me a smiley face. Then: Shouldn’t you be working?
Yeah. I should’ve been. Plus I needed to get my mind off the previous night, so I placed my phone face down on the table and didn’t so much as glance its way the remainder of the day.
Just as I was getting up to go, someone filled the office’s doorframe.
“Did I offend you with my last text?” August asked, leaning his broad shoulder into the door frame.
“Huh?” I strapped my bag across my body, then lifted my hair to free it from the strap.
“You never answered me after I told you that you should be working.”
Oh. I smiled. “I didn’t answer you because I took your advice to heart. I worked.” I grabbed the travel mug I’d cleaned earlier and carried it over to him. “Thanks again for the coffee.”
“Same one tomorrow morning?”
“You don’t need to make me coffee every morning, August.”
“I live next door. Besides, I make a pot for myself. Pouring it into a mug and dropping it off isn’t too hard.”
“Well then, sure.” I extended the mug, and he took it, our fingers brushing.
A little jolt went through my hand.
Static.
Or maybe it was the link.
I stuck both my hands into the back pockets of my jeans.
“Got any plans tonight?” His voice sounded a little rough.
The blood pounding against my eardrums probably created this distortion, because his expression was entirely normal.