Page 177 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
She hesitated. “But what if—”
“Uh-uh,” I said, cutting her off. “No what-ifs. Just go and see him. Not everything will get fixed in one lunch, but it could be a start for both of you, you know?”
Her smile was small as she nodded. “Well, okay. Will you be okay without me for a few hours?”
I grinned at her and gave her a wink. “I’ll keep myself busy. Laundry, for one. We’re running way too low on clean clothes, and I can’t scatter Margaret wearing my last-resort options.”
My words earned me a soft laugh before her eyes searched mine, and she tugged on a loose strand of hair from my space bun.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow, then? About Margaret?”
That dull, pulsing ache inside me grew, and I sighed, shrugging softly. “It’s bittersweet. Scattering her along the way has been fun, and I fulfilled her wish for a final adventure. But there was always still a piece of her left, you know? I hadn’t fully scattered her, so she was still mine to carry. But tomorrow…” My throat tightened. “Tomorrow I give her up forever, and then she’ll really be gone.”
Ellis smiled softly and took my hands in hers, pressing them to her lips before lowering them to her lap. “She’ll never really be gone,” she told me gently. “Remember?”
My throat burned and my eyes stung at her words, but I also knew what she meant, and I wholeheartedly believed it. It was just hard to accept those words in theory, especially when I’d put so much weight on a physical object as proof Margaret was still with me.
But I was tired of talking. I was exhausted.
I leaned in and kissed Ellis once more, simply soaking in the silence and the peace her lips offered as she kissed me back, her hands resting at the base of my neck. I sighed into her mouth.
If I wasn’t so tired…
But we were in a stranger’s house, and there was no way I was doing anything likethathere. Instead, I pulled back, grabbed her hand, tugged her up with me, and jerked my head toward the bathroom.
“Come shower with me.”
ELLIS
Tip #29: Some apologies are bridges. Some are tombstones. Know which one you’re carving.
Dove dropped me outside the diner where Thomas and I had agreed to meet, the Mustang humming low before she pulled away toward the laundromat around the corner, our dirty clothes in a wash bag in the back seat. Liv stayed beside me, though she had promised to give me some space while I did what I had to do.
I glanced at her as Dove disappeared. Liv stood on the sidewalk, toying with a strand of her pink hair, looking thoughtful.
“So,” I began lightly, “did you spend the night with Jedd?”
Liv shot me a look but smirked slightly.
“I did,” she said with a shrug. “I lay next to him all night. And he knew I was there—or hoped I was. He talked to me the whole time, catching me up on everything I’d missed, then reminiscing. He finally passed out around four in the morning. It was like he was scared to fall asleep and have this all be a dream.”
I smiled sadly at her, resisting the urge to reach out and rub her arm.
Instead, we turned and headed inside. The bell above the door jingled as I entered, Liv slipping in behind me as though walking through walls was beneath her now.
I slid into a free booth, and Liv dropped into the one behind me with a dramatic sigh. I quirked a brow as I picked up the plastic menu. If this was her idea of giving me space to talk to my brother, we needed to have a serious talk.
A waitress wandered by, filling my cup with coffee. I asked for some table water and shuffled through my bag to make sure I had brought my pill case.
“Stop fidgeting,” Liv said from behind my booth. “It’s yourbrother.”
I sighed and leaned back, taking a calming breath, but my palms had already started to sweat. When the bell jingled again and I looked up, I wasn’t ready.
Thomas stood in the entry, scanning the diner. When he spotted me, he strode forward with confident steps, and I took the chance to truly look at him. I had seen him at my birthday, but—I also hadn’t. I hadn’t reallylookedat him that night.
He looked like my brother, obviously. But he also looked like a reflection of myself I hadn’t seen in years. His red hair was clipped short in that precise military way, his green eyes sharp but tired, and freckles—our freckles—dusted across the bridge of his nose. Even out of uniform, in a fitted gray shirt and jeans, he still looked pressed and orderly, as though discipline would never quite leave his body.
He set his keys and wallet on the table as he slid into the booth across from me, a small smile on his face. Without thinking, I smiled back, and for a heartbeat it felt like we were kids again, sharing a secret across the table.
