Page 79 of The Words We Lost

“You passed out in the memorial garden,” Allie supplies, sitting only a few inches from where I lay. “Has that happened to you before? It was pretty freaky.”

“Only a few times.” My gaze slides to Joel, who’s been given a front row seat more than once now. When the Coast Guard called with news they’d recovered my father’s missing body—still buckled into his life jacket not too far from the wreckage of the Campbell’s charter—I lost all sense of time and place, my breath tapering off until there was simply none left to breathe. And then again with the news of Cece. The helplessness, the powerlessness of being so far away was simply too much for me to remain upright.

With Joel’s assistance, I raise the back of the recliner to more of a seated position. Rontu sits close by at my feet, his eyes attentive. Just like his master’s.

“Doctor says you likely hyperventilated.” He untwists the cap off a water bottle and offers it to me before he sets two acetaminophens in my open palm. I take them both in one swallow.

“At least you don’t have to worry about a concussion. Joel caught you before your head smacked against the pavement.”

The concern in Joel’s eyes is almost enough to knock the wind out of me a second time.

“Allie,” he says, “would you mind giving us a few moments alone, please?”

“Sure thing. I’ll go help my mom in the kitchen. She’s making you up a plate right now, Ingrid.” She lowers her voice. “Beware, she tends to think croissants cure everything.” Allie pats the blanket covering my knees and hands off the cool rag she was pressing to my face earlier. I don’t miss the way her gaze glances between Joel and me as she exits.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, wishing my mind was free enough to unlock the details it’s holding back.

He scrubs a hand down his face before pulling up a chair to sit beside me. “I’ll admit, seeing you like that again was ... not my favorite moment.” He takes my hand in his, rubs his thumb over my knuckles. His voice is calm, soothing, even. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Only, I’m not okay—that much I’m sure of. I just can’t quite remember ...

“Ingrid?” Joel reaches for the trash can on the floor. “Are you going to be sick again?”

I pinch my lips together until they hurt, not because I’m nauseous, but because I remember. I remember everything. “Something’s happened.”

“I gathered that when Allie said you had a distressing phone call at the storage unit. But I’d rather you take some time to catch your breath before you fill me in on—”

“No,” I force out. “This can’t wait.” I twist my ring around and around on my finger. “My boss found out we’re in possession of an unpublished manuscript of Cece’s. She’s demanding we turn it over to her for verification.”

Joel sits back in his chair, his stunned expression muting the loud throb in my head. “Verification of what? Fog Harbor only holds the rights to Cece’s Nocturnal Heart series.”

“I know that, but SaBrina has reason to doubt my integrity and refuses to take my word for—”

“SaBrina,” Joel scoffs. “The only integrity that woman should be questioning is her own. If not for your...” He stops himself, and then restarts. “She has no grounds to be making any demands on anyone.”

Like piecing together the remnants of a bad dream, I recall the odd introduction between the two of them in my office, the way his eyes narrowed when she spoke to him, the telling tick of his jaw.

That wasn’t their first interaction.

The tentacles of fear squeeze my chest as I push the question out. “If not for mywhat, Joel?”

He hesitates for only a second before he responds. “If not for your employment at Fog Harbor Books, I would have pushed my family to take legal action against them after I found out about SaBrina’s incessant phone calls to “check in” on Wendy. At first my aunt believed SaBrina’s motives for calling were pure, and because she desired to connect with anything pertaining to Cece’s fiction world, Aunt Wendy didn’t tell us about the calls for months. Not until after Cece’s fans started showing up in droves last spring and her panic attacks wouldn’t subside. I emailed SaBrina personally and told her never to contact Wendy again.”

“What...what was it she wanted from her?”

“The same thing everyone wants from her:The Fate of Kings.”

The throb in my temples increases, reducing my voice to little more than a whisper. “I wish you would have told me this sooner.”

“I saw no reason to involve you. I knew you weren’t the one behind SaBrina’s manipulation.” He sighs as if there’s nothing more for either of us to say on the matter, only I know just the opposite to be true.

“Bottom line,” he continues, “I think SaBrina is little more than a con artist willing to prey on a grieving mother for her own gain.”

The blood drains from my face as I realize that I, too, have been a pawn in SaBrina’s game. Her ultimatum is the reason I agreed to come, after all. I squeeze my eyes closed, willing myself to keep breathing.

“Ingrid?”

It’s the worry in his voice that undoes me. “I wish I’d known all that had happened here with Cece’s fans, with Wendy...” I swallow and start again, though I have no clue how this conversation will end. “I’ve loved Cece’s stories since I was sixteen years old, you know that. I hope you also know that I would never willingly do anything to harm anyone in your family.”

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