Page 67 of The Thinnest Air
It was a humid ninety-degree afternoon, but I was shivering and sweating, my stomach in knots. Turns out it wasn’t the corn dog. It was the flu.
My mother insisted I toughen up and force myself to enjoy it. She said we were never coming back if we left after only two hours.
Greer took my hand and led me to the gated exit, leaving my mother and her camera-toting boyfriend with no choice but to follow.
“You’ve always taken such good care of me,” I say.
Greer shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You’re my favorite person.”
Placing the photo back on her desk, I move around to her chair, flinging my arms around her shoulders and burying my face into her neck.
“What’s this for?” she asks, playing it cool.
“For always looking out for me,” I say. “Worrying about me when no one else does.”
“Like I have a choice,” she says. “You’re my sister. Worrying about you is my job.”
“Love you, G.”
“Love you more.”
CHAPTER 30
GREER
Day Nine
“Jake, where’s Harris?” I fully expected to walk into Steam this morning and find Harris posted behind the cash register, shooting the shit with one of our regulars, but instead it’s only Jake, the tattooed college kid he’s been grooming for the last year and a half after I told him he needed either a clone or an assistant because he was working way too damn much.
Jake grabs a ten-dollar bill from a man in a leather fedora, counting out his change in a whispered hush before turning his attention to me. “What do you mean?”
“Is he in the back?”
Jake’s nose scrunches. “I’m confused.”
“No,I’mconfused.” I press my pointer finger into my chest, eyes squinting.
“Assumed he was with you? Looking for your sister?”
I shake my head slowly. “No ... he was staying back, manning the stores.”
Jake tends to another customer, and my impatience almost eats a hole through me. He moves closer, whipping up a tea latte, and glances up at me.
“He left, like, four days ago, I think?” Jake stops what he’s doing, his head tilting. “Called me early that morning, put me in charge, said he wasn’t sure when he’d be back, but he’d keep me posted.”
“Has he checked in with you at all?”
“Nope.” He takes the tea latte to the man in the hat, who promptly deposits a handful of change in the tip jar. Cheap ass. “I’ve been watching the news, though, trying to keep up on everything. Sorry about your sister.”
“She’s not dead.” I don’t mean to snap, but everyone assumes that “missing” equals “dead,” and until there’s proof of life or death, I don’t want to jump to any conclusions. “I mean, we don’t know anything yet.”
“I just meant I’m sorry you’re going through this.”
Now I feel bad. “Thank you.”
He attends to two more customers, a pair of gossip queen–types with platinum-blonde extensions, matching Karen Walker sunglasses, and overdrawn Kylie Jenner lips. They’re not our usual customer, but whatever. They each order huge iced macchiatos and cinnamon scones before asking if Jake can break a hundred-dollar bill.
“Okay, so help me understand exactly what happened,” I say. “Harris told you he was going to Utah to look for my sister? And you haven’t seen or heard from him since?”
