Page 101 of Happily Never After

They ushered her into the main lobby. Jack and Luke stood stiffly next to each other like the worst buddy cop duo of all time. Luke closed the distance between them in two steps and roughly yanked her into a hug. She just managed to catch a whiff of his deodorant before he pulled back and held her at arm’s length.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked. His entire body was rigid, his mouth a hard slash.

She stared at him blankly. “I was thinking nothing. I was literally unconscious. You think I went to a cemetery dressed as a hotdog to feed a wild peacock on purpose?”

He released her and put both hands on his head. His fingers twisted in his disheveled hair. Maybe he was searching for words. “You need to call your therapist.”

“But—”

“No.” His voice had more finality than the bang of a gavel. “The second we get home, you’re going to call her. And you’re starting that medication.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” Things had really gotten out of hand now. She cast a glance behind her. Were they really letting her go? She had thought that calling in her FBI agent father would at least get the rest of her due process moving, but she didn’t expect them to actually drop the charges. Just how importantwasJack?

“Let’s get out of here.” If she had to spend another second in this overly harsh lighting with these hardened criminals, she was going to lose it. Again.

“Thank you, Jack,” she said as soon as they were outside and she could finally breathe again.

Jack tucked his phone in his pocket. Even though it was the middle of the night, he was dressed in a suit and tie. Did he sleep in one?

“The judge owed me a favor.” An appropriately mysterious answer.

What kind of thank-you gift did you give to an absent biological father who may have missed your college graduation but had reappeared in time to save your life and reputation all in less than a year? An Edible Arrangement?

“Well. I appreciate it.” She smoothed a lock of hair away and crossed her arms as best as she could over the wiener suit. “I hope you didn’t fly in for me.” She didn’t know what time it was, but there was no way he had booked a flight that quickly.

Jack shook his head. “I was already here. Chasing down a lead.” He turned on his heel and took a step. He paused and looked back around. “You need to be more careful, Claire. They’re still out there.”

She squared her shoulders. “I am aware. I’m already dialing my therapist.” She wasn’t, since her phone was presumably plugged in at home. But it seemed to satisfy Jack.

“We’re not telling my mom,” Claire said as she climbed into the passenger side of Luke’s car. The top of the costume rubbed against the roof. If it wasn’t a sure-fire way to add an indecent exposure charge, she would have ripped it right off.

The thought of her mother made her stomach twist. Alice had only just started answering Claire’s calls again. There hadn’t been any more abduction attempts, and the man in custody refused to talk. Still, the danger lingered. Would they come for Alice again? Or Claire? Had Charlie installed that security camera Claire had sent her? And what about Brianna?

Speaking of abductions, why had ESA gone quiet? Were they just toying with her? She would have bet her last dollar they had a hand in the ordeal at the gala. But there hadn’t been a note or threat in weeks. Maybe they had shifted focus. She gripped the handrail. And how had they missed so many viable opportunities to capture her? Even when she presumably rode the L Line quite alone and unconscious while dressed assomething that people couldn’t agree on was a sandwich. What the hell were they waiting for?

Streetlights flashed by as they drove home in silence. The blackness of night was retreating, replaced by a burst of crimson on the horizon. Luke’s hands were both squarely on the wheel. Normally he held her hand while driving. There wasn’t even insane LA traffic to blame. In fact, he hadn’t said a word since they got in the car. Maybe he had finally had enough of her. And who could blame him?

He had said only hours before that his relationship with Olivia was terrible because of the drama. Was that really worse than dating Claire? Since they’d gotten together, she had been a near nonstop stream of drama. Between the multiple attempted murders, the sleepwalking, and her borderline obsession with her career, she’d been a hot, unavailable mess. Maybe he deserved better.

Her stomach growled, and she placed a hand over it as if to muffle it. Those old breadsticks didn’t sound as unappetizing any longer.

Luke put on his turn signal and swung into a Starbucks. He ordered them both coffee and breakfast sandwiches. At least he was talking to the barista. Minutes later, he pulled into the driveway. Claire unbuckled her seatbelt, but he didn’t move.

“Are you coming?” She plucked the coffee from the cup carrier.

Luke shook his head. His eyes were cold. “I need to head in early. Can I trust you not to leave the house while I’m gone?”

The iced coffee sweated in her hand. As tempting as it was to make a joke about being under house arrest, she simply nodded.

“Good. Arm the alarm and call your therapist.” The tires screeched as he reversed out of the driveway. He didn’t look back as he drove away.

As his taillights disappeared, she blew out a deep breath. She had successfully pissed off the love of her life. There was no more putting it off—time to call Dr. Goulding and get a handle on this sleepwalking business.

Rosie and Winston swarmed her the second she opened the door. They followed her up the stairs, where she flopped dramatically on the bed. Stupid body refusing to stay in bed. All she wanted was sleep. Why did her subconscious insist on these nighttime wanderings? With a few recent exceptions, the meditation and cardio routine Dr. Goulding had recommended had been at least semi-successful for weeks. But then her warehouse had burned down, and it all went to shit.

The empty wine bottle stared judgmentally at her from the nightstand. She could definitely stand to cut back on the booze. Maybe she could try that first. There was no need to bother her therapist. It was barely eight a.m. on the East Coast. She probably hadn’t even had her coffee yet. A nap—with a more elaborate door barricade, handcuffs, and safety restraints—was what Claire really needed. And then she was going to wake up, pick a new proposal to take on, do some ESA research, and throw together a date night for Luke.

It was time to adjust her priorities.

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