Page 36 of Firefly Effect

I go through my morning routine at the bar, making sure I unpack everything I bought at the market yesterday, cutting fresh fruit and garnishes, sweeping and mopping the floors, and going over paperwork in the office. I continue working even when Janessa comes in with shades over her eyes, clearly hung over.

“You going to be okay today?” I smile, knowing Armando’s birthday party continued long after I left.

Janessa groans. “That’s debatable.”

Chuckling, I take a seat at the bar and watch her struggle with her apron as she walks to the register to clock in. “If you give me one hour to run an errand, I can cover your shift,” I offer.

She frowns, sunglasses still covering her eyes. “You’re closing tonight. I can’t let you do that—and believe it or not, Armando is worse off than me.”

“Maybe Kyle can?—”

She cuts me off, shaking her head. “Trust me. I’m the best you’ve got today.”

Laughing again, I slap the counter. “It’s fine, babe. I’ll take the double. I’ll even pay you for the day off. Just get me back another time.”

Janessa doesn’t have to express her relief with words. It’s written all over her body. “Okay, deal. Go run your errand, and I’ll try not to vomit while you’re gone.”

She flashes me a smile as if to assure me she’s kidding, and I give her a smile in return. Then I hop off the bar stool.

“Wait, I meant to ask you something,” she says.

I turn to face her. “Ask me what?”

Instant regret hits me when I turn around and see the teasing smile on her lips. My cheeks immediately get hot—I know what’s coming.

“What’s going on with you and the new doctor in town?” she asks, still grinning. “Kyle said he caught you two in a lip-lock.”

Shit. “We were not in a lip-lock. We were…” I don’t know how to get myself out of this. “He was saving me from drowning.” There. A lie, and a shitty one, but who’s going to question me?

Janessa folds her arms across her chest. “You almost drowned? You’re the best swimmer I know.”

I shrug. “You must know a lot of drowners.”

A laugh bursts from her throat, but she’s not ready to let up. “So he was, what, giving you CPR while your legs were wrapped around his waist?”

Double shit. Instead of admitting a single thing or explaining that Kyle’s terrible timing ruined the damn kiss, I raise my shoulders again. “He’s the doctor, not me.” Before she can question me any further, I turn around. “See you in an hour.”

I step out of the rideshare at J.D.’s house as the driver promises to wait for me. Walking most places in town is fairly simple, but not when it comes to where J.D. resides by the lake with his wife, three dogs, and two horses.

A shiver runs up my spine. The last time I paid a visit to J.D.’s personal residence was right after my uncle agreed that I would live with him. Patrick brought me to meet with J.D. in his home, rather than at his office downtown. I didn’t think anything of it at the time—Patrick and J.D. were friends, and I was the quiet, troubled teen who had gotten out from under her parents’ control and was finally able to make choices for herself.

But now that I look at the quaint one-story house on the lake, I can’t help but wonder why it started here.

Shaking off the thought, I focus on the mission at hand. I’m here to find out what the hell happened to my friend and therapist.

The tubing adventure of the day before had sent my thoughts into a memory spiral after I got home. Seeing the campground again and remembering that night in such vivid detail triggered me, ultimately leading me to confess too much to Lincoln. And before work, unable to help myself, I’d tried calling J.D. again, which only resulted in his voicemail.

Now I’m determined to get answers, even if that means taking matters into my own hands. I’m going to find J.D. myself and ask him directly. Selfish or not, I need to know.

At the door, I ball my hand into a fist and raise it to knock, taking a deep breath before I do. It’s close to a minute before I hear the latch on the other side of the door, followed by the sound of the knob turning. When the door opens, Gena, J.D.’s wife, appears on the other side of the screen. She doesn’t seem surprised to see me, but she also wears a guarded expression that makes me reel back a step.

“Hello, Evelyn.” So formal. So cold. Not at all like the woman I knew who often accompanied J.D. into town for dinner and events.

“Hi, Gena. I’m sorry to bother you.” My eyes dart to the open staircase and hallway behind her, unsure what I’m expecting to find. J.D., perhaps? “I was hoping to speak to your husband for a moment.”

She frowns, clearly displeased. “I’m afraid he’s unavailable.”

That same confusing answer. “Like, forever? Or just today?”

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