Page 73 of Defended By Love

I nod against his chest.

“Something new.”

Grant leans forward and breathes in. I feel his long inhale against the top of my head. It’s something he does every time the rain soaks into my hair. “The Garnet Defender is here to serve.”

“I think it’s time to start investigating the time loop and try to find a way out of it.”

Grant’s arms stiffen around me.

“You want this to end?”

Against his chest, I nod.

Although, I guess if I were to be more accurate, I’d say I’m ready for this to begin.

Chapter 32

If I were to get a tattoo, it would probably say: Coincidences are fairytales. It would not be a very artistic tattoo, so it’s a good thing I’m as of yet un-inked. Still, it’s the only thing I believe through and through.

That and the fact that spreadsheets are inherently sexy, but that’s far too racy to write on my body.

Clients would love for everyone to believe in coincidences. “Oh my DNA must have been on the victim because I donated a shirt last year and they probably bought it. Along with the knife that I also donated, which has my fingerprints and their blood all over it.”

No, coincidences are just another fairytale like Santa Claus or having numerous close friends in your thirties.

Which is why I had Grant fly me to Zagreus Hart’s headquarters on the skull island to investigate the time loop. It’s time to get this thing solved and his company is clearly behind the collapse of the building—a collapse that happened on the same day that a time loop starts.

I don’t think so.

There’s something fishy going on here—I really should follow up with the whole fish situation that started this whole mess since I’m not technically fired—and I intend to find it out.

Probably.

Now that I’m on the shore at the foot of the skull near the side-entrance in an enclosed area used to compost and to store their recycling until a barge picks it up, I’m not as confident in my abilities. Looking up at the profile of a macabre skull that cackles with a mirthless joy on the outside and bustles with a nine-to-five drudgery on the inside, my confidence is a bit shaken.

“You really don’t think your company is evil?” I ask as the sockets from the skull peer into my soul.

Grant laughs.

Seriously, I think I’m going to have to turn on a light or something to signal to him when I’m actually joking.

“I like it. Dennis gives me a big smile every day before I start work.” He gestures up at the jagged toothed smile formed by overhangs of rock.

If the face in the cliffside were a real person, it would definitely be on bath salts.

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m an optimist.”

“Exactly.”

Grant chuckles again. When I turn to face him, he’s smiling widely. “Oh, Sunshine,” he mutters, looking at me like I’m actually his sunshine.

Like I said, delusional.

With the skull as the backdrop for his delusional adoration, the skull seems to mimic his blissful grin. For a second, it does look like a welcoming smile. I guess that’s the power of Grant’s resolute optimism. No wonder I steer away from it. It falters my faculties. When I look back at the skull after mentally shaking off Grant’s rose-coloured glasses, it’s once again a beacon for nightmares and dread.

That’s more like it.

---