OH, SHIT. NOT AGAIN.
The tree trunk was covered in deep-ridged bark and the lowest branches were thick with wine-red leaves and the same strange, oblong fruit she’d seen on the kitchen counter. Obviously, that had not been some sort of gourmet banana. The tree seemed to be growing straight up through the ceiling. Keira couldn’t see the upper branches—the tree looked like it had been neatly sliced off by the second story of her house.
She was too shocked to speak, too shocked to move. Even her blood seemed to hesitate in her veins. Part of her was convinced that she was losing her mind. Normal people didn’t see fruit that wasn’t real. Doors in the middle of the street. Strange trees in the living room. But she felt so sane.
“Keira? You do look paler than usual. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “If I’d hit my head, I’d probably be throwing up or seeing things that weren’t there, right?” Saying it out loud was a sort of test. To see how crazy it sounded.
Her mom let out a thin laugh, but behind her, Keira heard Walker suck in a sharp breath. She shifted in her seat, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
He stood rigid, staring at her, his eyes round as a shark’s. He looked like he was seeing her for the first time—like he suddenly recognized her somehow. Her eyebrows lifted in response, but before she could say anything—before she could even think of what she might say, her mother pounced on Walker, shaking his hand like he was some sort of minor celebrity.
“And you must be Walker! I’m so glad that you were there to help Keira this afternoon.”
Walker blinked, sliding his most charming smile into place like a shield. The tree loomed over them, shivering in a wind that Keira could neither hear nor feel, but that nonetheless chilled her to the bone.
Walker cleared his throat. “Well, Keira actually didn’t seem to need much help. Even after a bad car wreck . . . ” His words slowed, like he was turning them over, looking for some sort of secret hidden underneath. “A terrible car wreck . . . Keira’s very . . . capable. Independent.”
“But you stayed with her, and you gave her a ride home,” her mother insisted. “That was way above and beyond. I’m grateful for that.”
“It was my pleasure, really,” Walker said, his gaze shifting from Keira’s mother back to her.
“Well, I’m glad Keira was with someone so considerate.” Behind her, one of the fruits fell from the tree. The instant it would have landed—should have landed—on the carpet, it disappeared, taking the vision of the tree along with it. There was nothing abnormal left in the living room—Keira had a perfect view of the sagging couch and the dusty picture frames on the mantel.
The simultaneous relief and embarrassment overwhelmed her. Keira felt herself start to flush. “Mom! Please.”
“All I’m saying is that I appreciate that he’s being nice to you!” Keira’s mother snapped. She turned back to Walker. “I’d invite you to stay for dinner, but I think Keira should probably rest, and we need to call the body shop before they close.” She tapped her knuckle against her forehead, thinking. “Oh! And I should call the insurance adjuster too. Maybe dinner one night soon?”
“I’d like that.” Walker looked straight at Keira. “A lot.”
Heat spread through Keira that had nothing to do with being embarrassed. All at once, her mother was incredibly in the way and Keira just wanted her out of the room.
Walker started for the door. “I’ll head out,” he said, sticking his hands back in his pockets, which made him look almost vulnerable. He looked over at Keira’s mom. “It was really nice to meet you, Mrs. Brannon.”
“You too, Walker.” Her mom followed him toward the door, but when Keira stood up to go with them, her mother raised a warning finger. “Oh, no you don’t. You stay right there. As soon as I see Walker off, I’m going to get you settled on the couch and you are going to take it easy, young lady.”
Walker waved as he headed out the door.
“Handsome and charming,” her mother said as she watched his car pull out of the driveway. She sighed. “Don’t let him turn your head, though,” she warned Keira. “You don’t want to end up stuck because of some guy. Trust me. I wasn’t that much older than you when I met your father. We shouldn’t have gotten engaged so young. We were just babies.”
The story had gotten more bitter over the last couple of years. When Keira was little, her mother’s cheeks would bloom pink when she got to the proposal bit, and the pinprick diamond of her engagement ring would sparkle as she spun it around her finger. Back then, the story went that Keira’s dad’s love was even bigger and stronger than her mom’s singing voice.