Page 21 of Highball Rush
“Most people wouldn’t know,” he said. “I bet you could walk down Lake Drive at high noon and the most you’d get are some funny glances.”
Then how did you know, Gibs?
“Maybe.” I took a deep breath. “After I saw you last night, I called Henna. She’s my adoptive mom. She casually mentioned I should be careful because my case had been reopened. I Googled it and god, I still don’t know what to think.”
“You didn’t know?”
I shook my head. “I’ve been out of the country for most of the last year. And my parents are… they’re unique. They live off-grid, no TV. To them, keeping up with current events means tracking celestial phenomena and horoscopes. They didn’t tell me, and I had no reason to go looking.”
Gibson stood and started pacing around the room. “It’s been a shit show around here.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t. It’s not your fault my dad kept your damn sweater.”
“I still feel awful that people think he…”
He stopped and met my eyes. “That people think he killed you.”
I shrugged. “Obviously he didn’t. I’m right here.”
Gibson cracked a smile. “Yeah, no shit.”
That smile made my tummy do a little flip. “So I guess… I’m here because I’m sorry about last night. And after seeing all those news stories, I wanted you to know it was me, and that I’m okay.”
“How did you know where I live?”
“It wasn’t hard to find. Property records are public information and Bootleg is a small town.”
“Fair enough. So what happens now?”
Another good question. “People think Callie is dead, right? That forensics report said the body they found is me. She needs to stay that way.”
“What?” His brow furrowed. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s safer for everyone. I’ve stayed alive this long because people kept me hidden. And then because my case went cold. If it’s closed now, I can just go on living my life as Maya.”
“There are people who know, Callie,” he said. “Jenny Leland is here, in Bootleg. She told us you’re alive.”
Dread swept through me and I covered my mouth with my hand.
“She didn’t say anything for a while, but I guess she couldn’t watch everyone grieve over a death that hadn’t happened. Not when she’d seen you with her own eyes.”
“Who else knows?”
He rubbed his chin. “My family. Sheriff Tucker. Rest of the cops in town, I’d imagine.”
I stood, the sudden urge to run almost overwhelming. I was Callie all over again. A terrified girl, hurt and alone. Huddled in a cabin in the woods. Certain they’d find me.
“Hey, slow down there.” Gibson was suddenly behind me, his big hands on my arms, his grip gentle. “No one knows where you are. And they won’t. You’re safe here.”
Closing my eyes, I took a long, slow breath. He didn’t let go, and I certainly didn’t want him to. His strong hands anchored me.
But the box in my mind rattled violently. Quincy and Henna had always told me that the past needed to be left behind. That peace could only be found by living in the moment. I’d breathed and cleansed and meditated my way through the last thirteen years, trying to believe they were right—trying tomakethem right. And yet, the box had never disappeared. My past was locked inside, but it was still a part of me.
Callie lived on.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said, finally.
