Page 45 of See Me

“You won’t have to if you have help. Jess will come too. She hasn’t gotten any offers yet, so I’m sure she could use the distraction. We could knock it out in a few days.”

And there it is. The person she is. Her perfect, beautiful soul trying to pull the words out of my stubborn mouth.

I need help.

I have nowhere to go.

Say it!

“Sounds perfect.” I clear my throat to swallow the SUV-sized lump taking up residence there. I blink a few times until the plate of nacho-y goodness no longer swims in the small pool of tears threatening to spill over. “So Jace isn’t going with you? To Oregon?”

She laughs. “No way. Too much peopling for him. I’ll ask Jess if she wants to go.”

I clear my throat again and try to swallow around the lump. “When is she due back?”

“I haven’t heard from her at all. I hope it’s just because she has lousy reception up there. But part of me also hopes she turned her phone off and is taking time for herself.”

“Me too. This thing with Beck is wild. She was almost over it too. Until she ran into him after graduation. Like he didn’t know she would be there.”

“It was her parents’ house after she graduated,” she deadpans. “He knew she would be there. Walking in all nonchalant to see Jack? I don’t buy it.”

“It’s like every time she gets some distance and is ready to move on, he senses it, shows up, and reels her back in. He doesn’t want her but doesn’t want anyone else to have her.”

She makes tiny fists and groans. “Selfish prick.”

“Ugh,let’s change the subject.”

She carries the food to the living room and sets it up on the coffee table.

“That looks amazing. I’m sort of glad my date didn’t show up. I’d much rather have a nacho date with you.”

She points the remote and turns on the TV. “You never told me what happened.”

I shrug. “Miscommunication.”

“So, are you going to try again? Plan something else?”

“Not unless you can get me to the mountains of Montana,” I mumble.

She turns to me, brows scrunched. “Huh?”

“Never mind. What are we watching?”

She smiles and grabs two throw blankets, tossing one in my lap. “Have you heard of Tommy Shelby?”

I shove a gooey, dripping nacho into my mouth. “Nope, can’t say that I have.”

“Well, buckle up, sweetheart.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Leaving full of nachos and with a newfound appreciation for a ‘20s gangster in a three-piece suit, I find myself back at Knockout’s, sneaking in the back door.

God bless Omar.

I weave my way into the back room and grab my shower bag. Maybe if I shower at night the scent will have faded by morning and skankface Tomi won’t have anything to pin on me. I set the shower to scalding and wait for the small stall to steam up.

A little plan forms in my head. A red-haired, sequined-dress-covered plan. Luca liked it when I sang. It could’ve been the costume, but that’s not what drew him out. According to Enzo, he didn’t pop out of his office until he heard me sing.

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