Page 79 of The Dangers of Daydreaming

Her lips lifted in a halfhearted smile. “Is he known to be a violent man?”

“Nope. That’s how you know how serious this is.”

She let out a light chuckle. “Okay, if you’re sure, I would appreciate the help. I was thinking I might need to FaceTime one of my cousins and talk it through, but you would be even better.”

I reached over and grabbed her hand almost without thinking. I was just grateful that what she needed in that moment was my help.

Gram: No change, but that’s not a bad thing. The infection is responding well to antibiotics. The doctors think his brain just needs a rest. I will keep you updated.

I tucked my phone into my pocket and pushed into the B&B looking for Lucy. The Hastings family was playing a game of what appeared to be charades in the main area. Lily caught my eye and pointed upstairs. I nodded my thanks. I felt her gaze on me as I made for the stairs.

“Come in,” Lucy called when I knocked. I pulled the door open and took in the room. She had stacks of clothes on the bed, and her bag was open on the top of the dresser. My chest squeezed uncomfortably at the sight of her preparing to leave in less than twenty-four hours. I felt a bit like I was being waterboarded with feelings lately—everything with my grandpa washard enough, but add to it the situation with Lucy, and I was about ready to give up the ghost.

But I wasn’t going to.

“Hey,” she said, turning to me while folding a shirt. She tossed it into the bag and looked around, grabbing her laptop. “Any update on your grandpa?”

“No, but Gram reminded me that’s not a bad thing.”

She nodded, her expression pensive. “You sure you’re up to helping me?”

“Honestly, it sounds pretty amazing.”

She lifted a brow. “Oh yes, helping someone with work that isn’t your own sounds like the best way to spend a random Wednesday night.”

I shook my head in amusement. “No, Lucy,” I said, reaching for her laptop and holding it while she gathered whatever else she needed. “I mean spending the evening with you sounds amazing.” And not even as a distraction. I cringed to think how often I’d used her as one in that first week, simply because I couldn’t face everything going on with my grandparents. She was so much more than that.

She froze for a moment before smoothly getting back to grabbing papers from her side table. Her eyes lifted to meet mine from the other end of the bed. There was a question there. But then she blinked, and it was gone.

“It will be easier to work at a table,” she said. “Do you mind if we go downstairs?”

“That’s fine, but the Hastings are playing charades. Want to go over to my place?”

Again, there was the briefest of pauses before she nodded. “That sounds great, thanks.”

I followed her down the stairs and out the door, then walked side by side with her across the gravel drive. She had her folders and papers held to her chestso I couldn’t hold her hand. Had she done that on purpose? Was she putting distance between us in preparation for her leaving?

When we reached my house, I gestured her inside.

“You don’t lock your door?”

“Not when I’m right across the parking lot,” I said, chuckling.

She walked in, eyes immediately skimming the entire space. There wasn’t much to see: a little kitchen tucked into the corner with wood cabinets, dark counters, and a peninsula, a TV too big for the space, a leather sectional, a couple of bookshelves, and a bar-height table for four. That’s where I headed with her laptop, setting it down on top, then making for the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

“Water would be great.”

I grabbed a water bottle for her and a couple sodas as well, setting them on the table as she spread her things out.

“Okay, so what are you worried about?” I asked.

She bit her lip and shifted her feet. “I wondered if I could show you a different presentation first.”

My mouth turned down. “Sure. I’m here to help.”

Pushing aside a few papers, she grabbed one near the bottom of the pile, then she got something set up on her computer and turned it around to me, a PowerPoint presentation open.

“I want to pitch this year’s Barnside Pick n’ Picnic.”

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