Page 38 of Unstable

“Please tell me you never plan to be a counselor of any sort, or volunteer as a crisis help-line operator,” I deadpan. “I’m not sure you have the ‘manner’ they’re looking for.”

“No worries. I’ve been saving up, gonna have my own farm one of these days.” He grins and I send up a silent prayer that his dream comes true.

“So now you know it all, except the part about Keaton,” I groan. “Oh, and my weird dream.”

“I’m still listening, but let’s move back to the couch. This floor is killing my knees.”

I laugh, an odd reaction after everything we just discussed and go and sit on the couch, tucking my legs underneath me.

I tell him all about Keaton, from the first time I met him, to today. About Hadley’s crush and what Keaton had to say about that. And finally about my dream…and the diary.

“Wow,” he lets out a low whistle, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I knew he wanted you, but damn. If he said they talked about it, I believe him, Henley.”

“You believe him? You don’t even know him,” I scoff.

“Call me a people reader,” he shrugs, “but the man’s not a liar.”

“But why wouldn’t she have told me?” I counter right back.

“Would you have told her?” He does that knowing grin thing again.

I don’t like this game. I’m getting my ass kicked at it.

“Not outright, no.” I let out a long exhale of defeat. “She had a boyfriend—Justin. He’d been crazy about her since she took him out in dodgeball in the seventh grade. I dropped hints, too many times to count, but I didn’t want her to pick him because she knew she could have him. I wanted her to discover for herself that she wanted him just because. Make sense?”

“Perfect sense. And once again, I challenge you to remember back, tune into your twin intuition. Did she ever drop hints to you about Keaton?” He puts no effort in schooling the satisfaction in his question.

I close my eyes and hone in on the darkest recesses of my mind, the place I keep everything most deeply buried.

“You missed a great party tonight, sister of mine. Keaton whooped this dumb bastard’s ass.”

“Whose?”

“It was dark, a big crowd. You should ask him yourself.”

I didn’t ever ask him. But…no, surely not.

And then another one hits.

“Keaton sure is lookin’ fine in that uniform tonight, isn’t he? Not as hot as my man, but damn close. Poor Merrick, I wonder if he’ll even get off the bench tonight.”

Oh. My. God.

“Gatlin?”

He pops up, already walking that way. “Yep, I’ll go get the diary for you.”

While I’m waiting, convincing myself this isn’t a gross invasion of privacy and she really did give me permission—in a dream—my phone pings from somewhere in the room with a text.

Hmm, I wonder who it is…except, not at all, and I wipe my clammy hands on my pants as I go and search it down.

Irresistible Neighbor: You okay? Wonderin’ why you haven’t called yet.

Me: Because I’m about to lower myself to abhorrent standards and decide if you’re telling me the truth before I talk to you. Also, I’m changing your name in my phone as we speak, but you did spell it right. Kudos!

Cocky PITA: I have no idea wtf you were saying before, but I’ll wait up for the verdict. And what’d you change it to?

Me: Guess you’ll have to hijack my phone again and see, if, after my reconnaissance mission, I let you near me.

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