Page 40 of Dumbstruck
I nod, sorting through my thoughts even though I can feel Jonah’s eyes on me as we slowly make our way down the sidewalk. If I look at him, I’ll lose my train of thought. “He was jumpy, yeah, but I get the sense that he takes too much pride in his work to let something go wrong like a broken wire.”
Jonah hums thoughtfully. “But you have to admit there was something sketchy about him, right?”
“Obviously. But that’s not evidence. I think we should try the grocery store next.”
“Why?” Jonah turns us back toward Main Street, keeping our pace slow. “And that’s not me questioning your idea, by the way. I want to follow your logic so I don’t get left behind.”
“I would never leave you behind, Jonah James.”
“Do you promise, June Harper?” He grins at me, sending a wave of heat through my body as his eyes trace my features.
Do I mean those words? No matter how much I’m starting to like this guy, our worlds are so different that it’s difficult to picture either of us being a part of the other’s life. People here in Laketown seem to think he’ll bring nothing but trouble—heck, I was one of those people—so I can’t see Jonah settling in here very easily. And I’m not sure I could handle the spotlight of his life of fame when I have grown used to the solitude of a quiet, small-town life. It all feels…impossible.
I want to figure out who’s trying to mess with the film, but there’s a part of me—larger than I’m willing to admit—that hopes it takes a long time to solve this thing, just so I don’t have to say goodbye to Jonah James.
Chapter Twelve
Jonah
Ican’tsaythatI’ve played anyone over the age of forty over the course of my career thus far, but I didn’t think living a believably geriatric life would be this difficult. I’m blaming it on the fact that I’m not a method actor and I never have to stay in character this long. “How do old people hold their phones?” I ask under my breath, adjusting my grip for the third time since pulling my phone out of my pocket. Richie sent another text right as we got onto Main Street, and there are enough people out and about that I’m feeling self-conscious.
I was fine at the diner, but the longer I’m with June, the harder this becomes. I can barely focus on my role when she’s sitting all prim and proper on a bench next to me, watching a couple of squirrels fight over a peanut.
She’s adorable.
“I don’t know,” June murmurs, glancing at the phone in my hand. “Hold it up close and don’t use your thumb to swipe?”
Doing as she suggests, I use my pointer finger to finally open the text, though it’s impossible to read when it’s this close to my face.
June snorts a laugh. “How’s that cross-eyed look working for you?”
“It’s not. Thanks for asking.” Shifting the phone a little farther, I read through the text and summarize it for June, keeping my voice low. “He’s pretty sure there are at least three people knocking things over and throwing pebbles, but they haven’t caught any of them yet. One of them might have been on a bike because they left tracks.”
Someone passes our bench, so I lock my screen and drop my phone onto my lap, as if the thing might blow my cover. Old people have phones. My mom was addicted to one of those candy puzzle games one winter and tried to get all of us to download it so we could be friends in the app. But for some reason, having a phone in my hand makes me feel young, and I need all the help focusing as I can get.
“A bike?” June asks as soon as we’re relatively alone—Dexter is fully focused on a phone call right now on the other side of the street, barely paying attention to us. One of the squirrels gains control of the peanut and runs off, and June turns to face me now that her entertainment is gone. “That narrows things down a bit, but not as much as you might think. This town is small enough that plenty of people don’t use their cars unless they have to.”
“So, the opposite of LA,” I mutter. “I’m glad we’re not trying to solve a mystery back home.”
“Yourhome.”
Oof, I don’t like how quickly she made that distinction. “Have something against big cities?” I ask, even if it’s not the question I really want answered. We haven’t known each other long enough for me to realistically wonder if she would consider moving to California, though I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it more than once since leaving the diner.
I don’t know how this woman has gotten under my skin so easily, but I can’t say that I’m mad about it. If anyone were to make me consider settling down, I’d want it to be someone like June. Someone on even footing with me who can match my steps and make me feel normal.
“I’m not against all cities,” June says slowly.Please say Denver is the only one you hate. “I’ve never been to Los Angeles, but it looks…”
“Exciting?”
“Crowded.”
Disappointment floods through me, but I hide it behind a smirk. “Maggie, darling, sometimes I wonder how you and I ended up together when we are so different.” Ah, that was the wrong thing to say, and I hold my breath as several different emotions cross her face. Did I put a nail in the coffin of our potential as a couple?
She presses her lips together, eyes guarded. Taking a breath, she reaches over and grabs my hand, speaking to our clasped fingers rather than to my face. “Different isn’t always a bad thing.”
My breath hitches. “Some would argue different is a great thing sometimes. Different can help you grow and experience new things. Different can bring excitement to a life that seems to be severely lacking in that department.”
June lets out a heavy sigh. “But different also lives far away.”
