I hold back an ironic laugh. “So guess I wasn’t the only one,” I reply, locking eyes with her.
“Guess not,” she says softly.
We stare at each other, the reality that neither of us were ready for a relationship hanging in the air.
“Thanks for being honest with me,” I say, breaking eye contact and offering my hand. “Whenever you’re ready.”
She flexes her fingers nervously. “Let’s start by figuring out the ‘when.’ I know it was after Thanksgiving and before Christmas, but I’m going to need you to be more specific so we have a place to start.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I gotta be honest, I barely remember the conversation. Care to remind me what we were talking about?”
She inhales slowly, then lets the breath out through her nose before responding.
“I told you I love Christmas and that my family goes all out,” she says nervously, looking away. “Then you said you were looking forward to it. I Saw you at Thanksgiving earlier that morning when you were talking about menu planning. So it’s somewhere in between.”
I close my eyes for a moment, remembering the conversation. The surge of emotion I had thinking about meeting her family, spending the holidays with her, starting the new year with someone I could really … I stop myself short. Because I couldn’t. And now here we are.
“Yes, I remember,” I say hoarsely, opening my eyes.
She finally meets my eyes again. “So what are your plans on Christmas?”
“Working.”
She gives me a sympathetic look. “That must suck.”
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s actually not the worst holiday to work, and the extra pay is nice,” I explain. “Plus, I always take a day or two off the week before to go home and celebrate with my folks.”
“When are you doing that this year?”
“I’m driving up on the morning of the seventeenth, then back the morning of the eighteenth.”
“Anything planned between now and the seventeenth?”
I shake my head. “Just work.” I almost say I also need to find a new place, but Ken already told me not to worry about it until after the holidays, knowing how hard it would be to pull off.
She inhales deeply again. “Okay, then let’s start with the seventeenth. Close your eyes and picture yourself driving home, seeing your parents for Christmas. Think about the gifts you’ll bring, what you’ll do, and so on.” She holds out a hand, and I can’t help staring at it for a minute as I try to work up the courage. “You won’t feel a thing.” I look up into her face to see she’s smiling in an attempt to be reassuring.
And I must still want to trust this woman, because I slide my hand in hers and close my eyes. I do as she told me, thinking about the dinner ingredients I’ll bring, knowing their grocery stores suck. The game of Scrabble we always play after dinner. I’m jolted back into the present a bit by the sparks I feel shooting through my palm, where CJ’s hand rests.
And it hits me. Those sparks are coming from her. And I don’t mean that in the way I thought about them before — that it had something to do with how she made me feel. They are literally coming from her, from her vision.
But before I can dwell on it too long, I realize I’m watching her hand slide out of mine. I must’ve opened my eyes without thinking about it.
I look up to see her eyeing me curiously.
“Well, the good news is, you’re still alive on the seventeenth,” she says slowly, still staring me suspiciously. “And it’s cute that you guys play Scrabble together.”
“That’s great and all,” I reply. “But uh … I’m not quite sure how to tell you this. I did feel something, CJ. Something I’ve felt before but didn’t know why. Well, I thought I knew why, but I —”
“You felt something?” Her tone is wary.
“Yes,” I insist. “I thought it was just … us before. But I felt it just now and back when you had that vision. I remember it distinctly. And sometimes I’d see lights or colors or feel things when we would … you know.” Her eyes widen, and I can tell she knows what I’m referring to.
“Matt,” CJ cries sharply toward her door. Not the reaction I was expecting.
Matt appears in seconds, as if he was already upstairs waiting for her summons.
“I heard,” he says grimly. They lock eyes for a moment, a significant look passing between them.
“Is that bad?” I ask nervously, my head swinging to take in both of their expressions.
CJ finally pries her eyes from her brother. “I’ve never heard of that happening before.” She considers Matt for another moment. “You’ve never felt that when I’ve read you, have you?”
He shakes his head.
“And you’ve never …” She directs her words toward her brother again, and receives another head shake in response.
I quirk an eyebrow at him only to get a glare in return.
“Hi,” I pipe up, flicking my eyes back to CJ. “I’m still here. What’s going on? Is something wrong with me? Is that another dead-man-walking sign or something?”
CJ eyes me nervously. “I honestly don’t know, Drew, I’m sorry,” she says. “But at least we know it’s sometime between the seventeenth and the twenty-fifth of December. So we have more time.”
My eyes flick back to the doorway to find Matt gone. Or at least not right there. I’m sure he’s still lurking somewhere nearby. I turn my attention back to CJ.
“You thought it might be Amber. Is there some reason you don’t think it’s just a freak accident?” I ask.
“It’s not,” she replies quietly. “I can’t tell you how I know. I just feel it. It’s murder.”
Her words sober me considerably and I’m sure I’m going to have a little freak-out later. But not now.
“So is there any way to know if it’s her or not?” I ask.
CJ turns bright fucking red. “Yes … I mean, no … I mean … um … that is, I …” she stutters. She stops and breathes deeply until she’s calmed down a bit. “I, um, I may have tracked her down and eliminated her as a suspect.” She pulls the neck of the hoodie up over her nose and peers at me over the collar like she’s waiting for me to explode.
It’d be cute if I wasn’t so surprised. And a little disconcerted. But given how nosy and unrelenting CJ is, I probably should’ve guessed she’d do something like that.
“Wow,” I say on a breath. “Okay. Well … how, exactly?”
“I found her on social media, then —”
I hold up a hand to stop her. “Not what I meant. How did you rule her out?” I try not to visibly bristle, but I don’t want to talk about Amber more than I absolutely have to.
“Ah. Sorry. She’s um, she’s getting married.”
My jaw drops. And the elephant that was sitting on my chest disappears.
“Holy shit,” I gasp. “That’s … halle-fucking-lujah.” I shake my head and laugh. Relieved doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel right now.
“Well, I’m glad you’re happy about it,” she says. “But that puts us back to square one. Can you think of anyone else who would …” She looks like she can’t bring herself to say the words.