Page 21 of Hearts Adrift
The next day is no better. I’m still thinking about him as I work in my dad’s office, sorting files and pulling out old promotions and advertisements we ran years ago that worked, searching for some new angles and ideas to try. Each time I swing by the kitchen to grab a drink or pick-me-up snack, my eyes find the bungalow in the window.
And another day goes by that I don’t visit him.
It’s nearly four days later that I find myself at the Fair restocking one of the game kiosks with plushie prizes—the guy working it chewing my ear off about a group of loud, whiny teens who accused him of rigging the game because they couldn’t aim a plastic dart at a balloon—when I catch sight of a guy in a fittedleather jacket, baseball cap, and shades across the way. He’s perusing the souvenir stand.
I literally stop what I’m doing and stare. Is that River? Did he come out of his bungalow finally to see what our Fair is all about? He’s not glancing my way, so I can’t get a good look at his face. Who else could it be? The shades, of course I understand, the sun is eye-annihilating. But to be wearing a leather jacket? That has to feel like an oven.
Then Heather appears right in front of me, eclipsing my view. “Don’t we have stockers for this?” she asks less than kindly.
“I sent her home early,” I say distractedly, stretching to peer around my sister so as not to lose sight of him, but now there’s a big-ass family passing by, too, and each and every one of their six children haveballoons. “Saving on payroll. I can finish her remaining tasks.”
“Why so stingy? Staff is already barebones as it is.”
The last thing I need is to open the can of worms that is our family legacy’s impending doom—and also I promised Dad I wouldn’t tell my sisters just yet—so I mumble out a vague, “It’s no big deal, Heather, I’ve got this. Wasn’t busy with anything else.”
“Or anyoneelse.”
I squint at her. “The hell does that mean?”
She rolls her eyes, then continues on with whatever her duty is, tablet tucked under her arm. And when the family and everything else clears away, River is gone.
Or rather, the guy I’m pretty sure was River.
Somewhat sure.
A minute later, I’m in the office by the Ferris Wheel. Heather busily combs through a filing cabinet. “Heather—”
“Did our weird anonymous tenant seriously break into the rental because the key didn’t work?” she cuts me off.
I had a big ol’ speech prepared about her giving me attitudeover my breakup with Theo and how exceedingly unfair it is that she not take my side, and every last word of that speech escapes into an alternate dimension, never to be thought of again.
She plucks out a folder and shuts the cabinet, returning to her desk. “I thought you were the one always checking up on that tired old place. Doing the upkeep during its dead months. Never noticed the front door lock was sticking?”
“Brooke had just used the key that same morning.”
“Theo would’ve noticed.” She pulls her glasses down from her nest of hair to her nose, reading the opened file. “Would’ve been on top of that, changed the lock, given the house a fresh paintjob before the guest even arrived …”
The speech comes right back. I guess it was just a brief visit to that other dimension. “I think it’s really unfair and, quite frankly, ridiculous that you keep treating me—”
“Like the villain? Because you are. He still asks about you. Just to make sure you’re doing okay. How many times have you asked about him?” she wonders out loud. “None? It’s almost like you’re glad you kicked him to the curb.”
“I am,” I state, losing my cool. “You have no idea what kind of person he really was, Heather.”
“You’re so dramatic,” she mumbles.
“Making up all these stories about himself just to keep me fascinated. Ever since we were teenagers, treating our relationship like a game ofmake-believe, and my life was the playground. If you only saw how quickly that mask fell right off when he realized I was ending things …”
“‘My life was the playground’ … You should listen to yourself.”
“He was fake. All the time, Heather. Pretending to be the boyfriend he thought I wanted. He started wearing my clothes like a costume. He’d change his opinions on the fly just to match me. He was a performer. He was …”
I almost say “an actor”.
But stop myself for some reason.
Thinking about a certain someone.
Heather takes a breath and faces me. “Don’t get me all wrong here. I care about you, Finn. I know you’ve got your side to it. All I’m saying is, Theo isn’t the demon you think he is, and it makes me feel a certain way to watch you go on so easily with your life while he’s an emotionalwreck. File this in the cabinet for me on your way out, please?”
