a deadly storm, an unsolved disappearance, and a small town brimming with secrecy;
an outcast girl, a boy who only knows how to hide, and the world against them;
what could go wrong?
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The day drags on in agony. Boo stays close to her phone, incessantly checking it for any sign of a missed call or text from Ashton. She knows better than to expect anything, but at the same time she can't help herself. Her curiosity now borders on torturous, yet the only cure lies far from her reach.
Left with no answers and only her uninhibited worry, she lays awake in bed that night, once again staring a hole into the ceiling while her mind whirls. Harry crawls into bed beside her, kisses her cheek, then rolls over onto his back and buries himself underneath the covers.
A pit forms in Boo's stomach. Harry's kiss burns into her cheek; she places a hand where his lips were, feeling the blood rushing underneath her skin. She thinks back to the jolt of adrenaline she'd felt when she first saw Harry standing in the middle of the Jack Creek department, his electric gaze on her as the world around them slowed. Her heart thumps rapidly as she remembers the way Loughton had approached him; with venom in his throat, like seeing an old enemy.
She bites her bottom lip nervously. "Harry?"
"Yes, Lita?" he replies in exhaustion.
Her heart flutters for more than one reason. "Did you know Loughton before you were arrested that day?"
A pause. "How did you know?"
He doesn't sound angry, merely curious. Boo's heart leaps into her throat. "Little things I picked up on . . . how he spoke when he uncuffed you, the way you looked at each other after the break-in, remarks he's made to me . . . over time it just added up."
Harry clears his throat. "We were friends once, a long time ago," he admits hollowly. "But the Harry he knew is gone. I am not the same man I was five years ago."
Boo rolls her lips together, trying to process a reality in which bitter, jaded Loughton and sweet, mysterious Harry could be friends.
"Are you mad I didn't tell you?" he asks, mistaking her silence for anger. Fear lines the edges of his voice; he sounds afraid of her answer.
"No," she replies, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "You don't owe me every piece of your past."
"You asked me once why I left town," he says in a low voice. Her ears perk in attention. She wonders what memories she's just awakened for him to bring this up unprovoked.
"Yes," she answers hesitantly.
"Do you still want to know why?"
Her heart hammers against her ribcage. "Yes."
His hand brushes against hers as he feels for her in the dark. She twines her fingers with his, aching to touch him more. "You know I used to be an alcoholic," he begins softly. "What I didn't tell you is why."
"You don't have to if it's too much to talk about," Boo answers consolingly. Her voice is nearly swallowed by the curiosity raging inside her.
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