Page 86 of The Words We Lost

Joel narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s your deal with him anyway?”

“Mydeal,” she all but fumed, “is that you’re supposed to be holding him accountable, not spending all your free time listening to his farfetched sea tales.”

“Save the drama for your fiction, Cece. Hal’s doing great. He texts me confirmations from his meetings each week, just like he agreed to do.”

Joel’s text popped up, pulling her out of the agitating memory.

Joel

You’re 100% positive it’s him?

Couldn’t he see it was him in the—oh. The pictures she sent hadn’t gone through. She tapped the screen to resend them and watched until the task was completed.

It felt like a year before Joel responded. But when he did, Cece nearly toppled off her stool.

Joel

That’s his ex-sponsor with him. Darius.

Cece

What ex-sponsor? When did that happen?? Also, for the record, he just ordered them both a second round.

Naturally, Joel didn’t bother answering her questions. He was more concerned with asking his own.

Joel

Has Hal seen you?

Cece

No. But I did see him and Darius talking to a couple of guys that looked like they just flew in from a Vegas night club. They gave something to Hal, but I couldn’t see it clearly.

Joel

Send me the address of the bar. I’m only fifteen minutes out from Oak Harbor. And please, do not engage them, Cece. Let me handle this for once.

Cece

I texted you, didn’t I?

Joel

Thank you. Keep me updated until I get there.

Cece

??

She was halfway through her second Cecelia Jane Special when Joel texted her again.

Joel

Please keep this to yourself for now. Ingrid needs to focus on her finals. This can wait till after. Agreed?

Cece’s last sip of Diet Coke soured on her tongue at her cousin’s text. She hated the idea of keeping something so huge from Ingrid, but not as much as she hated the idea of Hal screwing up Ingrid’s plan to graduate early and come home. Who even knew what kind of mess she’d be coming home to now? Anger simmered low in her belly as she eyed the man who was now tossing back the last drops of a second beer, ticking her anger up from a three to an eight. In matters of injustice, it wouldn’t take long for her to reach a ten.

Cece

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