“Where’s Jeff?” Eli asks.
“Restroom,” she replies.
Emily’s fingers curl into her thigh and her knuckles grow white as we enter another long absence of conversation.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve been alone, Meg,” says Eli.
Meg stands. Her long blond hair is tied at the nape of her neck. Even in the mirror I can tell she’s pretty, but Emily is gorgeous. It’s obvious Emily inherited her height and soft features from her mom, but the rest of Emily is purely from Eli’s side.
Eli shoves his hands into his pockets and shifts to one side while keeping his eyes locked on Meg. Meg, on the other hand, rubs her hand over her neck. Then she walks, quickly, killing the distance between her and Eli. He holds out his arms and Meg falls into them.
Emily jerks and I plant a hand over her knee in warning. Emily’s eyes are wild as they beg me to explain what the hell is going on, but I’ve got nothing. This is new even to me. Eli gently enfolds Meg into him and kisses her temple. “I’ve missed you.”
His hand clutches her hair as Meg rests her head on his shoulder. They stay that way. A second. Another. Too long for Emily and she begins to scratch at a spot on her wrist. An angry red welt forms and I snatch her hand, keeping her fingers firmly in my grasp.
Emily’s chest is moving fast—too fast—and she focuses on the reflection with too much intensity. I glance over at the door we snuck in from off the back hallway. Emily needs to get out of here before she completely spirals.
A sniff from the other room and Emily’s mom finally steps away from Eli. “Jeff says that you never married.”
“No, I haven’t found anyone worth being with.” He pauses. “You didn’t need to work through Jeff all these years. It would have been nice to talk to you.”
Mirroring Emily earlier, Meg grips her elbows. “It’s better this way. Better for us to have distance... I should have never brought Emily here—”
“I’m glad you brought Emily,” Eli cuts her off. “I’m glad you came. But this should have been done differently. To show up unannounced—”
“I know,” Meg says harshly. “It’s just that when I thought Olivia was dead...it brought everything back and I reacted without thinking and... Is Emily in danger?”
“Yes,” Eli answers. “She is and I’m going to need time to fix it. You woke a sleeping giant and something that large takes time to put back to sleep.”
Emily’s hand goes limp and cold and I slip my fingers through hers. She studies me as she accepts the comfort I’m offering. Moisture lines the bottom of her eyes. The Riot. The Riot is after Emily and I don’t understand why.
She’s in danger and until now I honestly thought this was some stupid misunderstanding. The image of my father bleeding from his head enters my mind. That could be Emily.
The back door opens and my hand automatically shoots to my hip and my fingers clutch the air where my knife should be. Emily’s father strolls in and his eyes land on the two of us.
Emily shakes her head and raises a finger to her lips. His eyes flicker between me and Emily and then settle on the reflection of Eli and Meg that Emily eventually points at.
I hold my breath. Waiting for him to blow our cover, waiting for him to nail me to the wall for holding his daughter’s hand while sitting so close. Instead, he motions for us to go out in the hallway.
Quietly, we do, and once there he leans down and whispers to Emily, “I’ll find you soon.”
Emily
HOLDING MY HAND, my father guides me into the hot June sun and away from the men in black leather vests to a bench swing that hangs under a shade tree on the other side of the parking lot. Twenty minutes after Oz and I returned to the office and waited in silence, my parents walked in with Eli.
I hugged Dad and then Mom, but I have to admit to being numb. Eli told me this morning that I wasn’t in danger and he told my mother I was. What does it mean? What does any of this mean? They hugged. Mom and Eli hugged like they meant it.
“Why don’t you sit down, Em?” Dad says.
Parroting a puppet on a string, I do, and Dad claims the spot beside me. Mom exits the warehouse with Eli behind her. She veers right and observes me and Dad from an empty picnic table. Eli heads left toward a group of men, but I don’t miss how his gaze roams to us. Oz also watches us as he talks to a guy about our age, except this guy has a vest on.
Dad takes a deep breath and I steel myself for his rip-the-Band-Aid-off method. “Eli wants you to stay in Snowflake for a while—for the summer, even.”
“Oh, hell no.” I go to jump up, but Dad places a hand on my knee.
“Will you agree to just hear me out?”
I want to scream “no,” but the silent plea in Dad’s eyes causes me to settle back on the swing. “Fine.”
“Thank you.”