Page 149 of PS: I Hate You

Not sure what to ask, I stare around the shop, searching for a sign of my brother or another clue he might have left me.

“Do you sell this stationery?” Dom approaches Harold and shows the man Josh’s letter.

“You bet. It’s our signature stock.” He gestures to a shelf at the end of the closest aisle, and I see a stack of blank sheets, all sporting the same compass as Josh’s letters.

How did he get it if he’s never been here?

Thinking along the same lines as me, Dom asks a follow-up question. “Do you know a Josh Sanderson?”

I switch my attention to Harold in time to see the shop owner’s eyes light up with true excitement. “Of course I knew Josh. He took all these.”

The man points to the walls, and I realize almost every inch has a framed photo of some beautiful wildlife image.

Probably all taken in this state.

“Josh Sanderson took these photographs?” I speak the words slowly, my mind struggling to catch up with this shift in my reality.

Harold grins and gives a deep nod. Then the expression flickers, a trace of sadness chasing over his features.

“Oh. You must be…”

“Maddie Sanderson. His sister.”

Harold’s eyes soften. “Ah. I see. Well, he did tell me you’d come.”

“I don’t know why. None of his letters told me to.”

“He said you’d figure it out. Especially with Broken Spines across the street.”

“Broken…” I trail off as I glance out the window and realize the bench Dom and I paused on sits outside a bookshop.

“I have something for you.”

My head whips back to Harold. “You do?”

He nods, big grin back in place. “Kept it in the safe in the back. You wait right here.”

Harold shouldn’t be concerned about me running off. Any correspondence from my brother could keep me waiting in a single spot for centuries.

The shop owner reappears holding a ziplock bag. Through the gallon-sized plastic, I see something amazing.

Puzzle pieces.

“Josh mailed this to me a few years back. Said if you ever made your way into my shop, I should give it to you.” He walks up to me and offers the bag, which I accept gingerly. Then he ushers us toward the door. “There’s a coffee shop a block down to the right. They’ve got big tables and tasty drinks. You go put that together and see what your brother left for you. Make sure you stop back in before you leave town. I’ll give you a ream of stationery on the house.”

In a daze, I let myself be directed. Ten minutes later, Dom and I have claimed a booth in the back of the shop Harold suggested. After thoroughly cleaning and drying the worn wooden surface, we spread out the pieces and get to work.

When the image turns into something recognizable, my hands pause, and my mouth falls open in disbelief.

Then my eyes seek out Dom’s.

“Did you know?”

Chapter

Forty-Three

I knock on the door and wait, trying not to shift on my feet. The warm presence at my back helps keep me calm. Holds me steady.

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