He shifted his jaw slightly, mulling over either the question or me. “On a different road nearby. The police have it now.”

So he’d driven here. Not dumped here, like Elyse had thought. He’d driven, and kept his car hidden, and walked . . .

“You’re scared,” he said.

I nodded, because it was the truth. But also because I didn’t know what had happened out here. Worried that it could’ve happened to me just as easily. That anyone could’ve gotten into my home.

He took in the scene once more, gaze moving from the spot in the yard, to Rick’s house, to my own. “I won’t take any more of your time, Olivia. Thank you for this.”

We walked back toward his car in my driveway. He lingered in the spot between his car and my front porch, like he wanted to say something more.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked on impulse. Because, despite my misgivings, I was always trying to undo someone else’s damage. Or maybe it was something baser than that. Maybe because, like he said, I was scared. “I could get you something to drink. Or eat. Before you head back.” I wasn’t sure which hotel he was staying at, but none of the hotels in the area was particularly inviting.

He looked at my front door for a long moment. It seemed like he very much wanted to come in. But he shook his head. “I should be getting back, get some sleep, get my head on straight.”

“Right. Okay. Me, too.”

He took out his wallet and slipped a card from a pocket. “My cell is on the back. In case you want to talk. I’ll be in town at least a few more days.”

I was standing on my porch while he backed out of my drive. When he was out of sight, I saw, through the trees, Rick’s porch light switch on.

MY PHONE WAS RINGING when I stepped inside—and my stomach dropped, my mind always flashing back to the body in the yard. Then I was overwhelmed with the hope that it was Elyse, finally returning my calls. But instead it was a video call from Jonah.

Better to be done with this once and for all than have him calling weekly until he got the message. I answered with a curt “Yes?”

Jonah didn’t seem to get the tone. He smiled widely, sitting in his favorite chair in the living room. I could picture the crystal tumbler just out of frame. “Finally caught you,” he said. “Is now a better time, Liv?”

“Not really,” I said. “Jonah, listen, I shouldn’t have texted you back. I don’t want to go back to the way things were—”

“Neither do I. I was a fool, Liv, can you give me a second for an apology?”

I closed my eyes. A year too late, a year smarter, and Jonah just one more thing that was best left in the past. God, why was everything resurfacing all at once? How could you become someone new when everyone kept pulling you back to the person you once were? How could you fight that sort of gravity?

“I accept any and all apologies, Jonah. But I’ve moved on, and it’s absolute chaos here. So, no, this is not actually a better time.”

“Is it the hospital?” he asked, sitting upright. “Did something happen?” Because that was his project, a way he could claw his way back to essential.

“No. There’s a literal crime scene outside my house, okay? Someone died.”

Jonah’s face was a blank sheet. He was not good at the unexpected, never was. Liked to be in control, in the classroom and out. He’d seen this conversation going one way, but it had suddenly veered, and he was slow to recover.

The phone wobbled as he switched hands, brought himself too close to the frame, his features losing proportion. “Who? Who died?”

I lifted one shoulder in an exaggerated shrug. “No one you know. No one who worked at the hospital. It doesn’t involve you.”

“I should be there,” he said. “You shouldn’t be alone there right now. God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No, you shouldn’t. I’m not alone, Jonah. Drop it.”

His eyes narrowed now, like a different path was presenting itself. “You’re seeing someone?” A condescending tilt to his head. “Tell me, is it Bennett? Of course you are. You always did like being taken care of.” He lowered his voice, his entire demeanor shifting. “This isn’t the right move, Liv.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think. You’re wrong about all of it.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Am I, now?”

I shifted my jaw; I hated getting drawn into his circular discussions, which would inevitably lead exactly where he intended them to end.

“Both options can’t exist at once, Liv.” Like he could apply his logic to life. Twist the data to fuel his own argument. “Are you seeing someone, or are you alone?”

“It’s none of your business.”

I could hear the ice in his glass. He took a sip before speaking. “Well, it’s after nine p.m., and you’re home, and no one else is there. So it seems to me we both know the answer.”

This was how Jonah worked, talking me in circles, doing the same in a meeting, in his class. So he always came out on top. And he was right—I did like being taken care of. Where he was wrong was in assuming he was ever the one to provide that stability.

Something had changed, in either him or me. But I could finally see him clearly for everything he was. A leech. Needing attention to thrive. Needing to feel superior and knowing he could get that only from someone younger, less established, less sure of herself.

I hadn’t formed strong connections with my classmates, didn’t like their questions about parent weekends, or visiting home, or summer plans. I dove into my studies, and took internships and jobs, and Jonah liked my drive, my maturity. The exterior shell I presented as a defense. An interior he could mold at his will.

Three seconds to escape. One step to extricate myself from this conversation.

“Jonah? Don’t call me again.”

And then I did what I should’ve done months ago, a year ago, before that, even—the first time he texted me personally: I’ve been thinking about what you said in class all day. Would love to discuss further. The thrill was the same, then and now, as I blocked his number.

———

I DIDN’T TAKE THE pill, and slept lightly. Later at night, I heard a car driving by, and I pictured Nathan Coleman, not sleeping, drawn back to the scene of his father’s death, over and over. How we were all being drawn back together. And how I could see myself clearly, finally, reflected in someone else. How grief and survival could coexist. How, despite what Jonah believed, you could hold two versions of the truth—and yourself—in your hand at the same time, and both could be completely real.

FINDING ARDEN

Copyright: Laurel Maynor, 2002

Excerpt, p.1

I knew she was gone before I woke. It was pure intuition.

I knew my daughter better than any other living being.

When Arden was little, I could tell if she’d be sick the next day. When she’d run down the hill out back, I could tell in the moment before when she was about to fall.

I woke up on the morning of October 17 earlier than usual. Something had woken me. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I started calling her name before I even got to her room.