Page 76 of Not Quite Dead Yet

He sniffed. ‘Can’t afford it.’

‘You don’t need toaffordit,’ Jet said. ‘That’s what health insurance is for. Just ask Luke about it, he deals with all the finance and employee stuff.’

‘Doesn’t help me.’ Henry’s hand tightened on the door. ‘I’ve never worked for Mason Construction.’

Jet stopped the door with her foot. Two doors, four feet. ‘Henry, why are you lying? What’s going on?’

‘You must be confusing me with someone else.’

‘No, I must not be.’ Frustrated, trying to hide it in her voice, trying to hide the panic on her face because they’d all fractured, multiplied, and she was the only one who could see it. ‘Did someone attack you, Henry? The bruise, your lip, the ribs. Is that why you bought a gun? You can tell me, you know. I can kinda relate. You help me and I can help you. What’s going on?’

‘You have to go.’ He pushed the door and Jet was too unsteady, a replica of herself with no clear edges, stumbling back over the threshold. ‘I have … stuff. You need to go.’

The door slammed shut in their faces.

And maybe it was the slam that did it, because Jet blinked and the world righted again. One door, one set of hands in front of her face, one Billy staring down at her, holding her elbow, concern darkening his pale blue eyes, a gale blowing through that calm lake.

‘I’m fine,’ Jet said, dropping her jacket to the floor, angry hiss of the zipper dragging across, still attached to one arm. ‘It’s just a headache.’

‘I don’t know, Jet.’ Billy pulled her jacket the rest of the way off, placed it on the hook. ‘I wouldn’t describe that as the best driving I’ve ever seen.’

‘Just tired, just a headache,’ she said, narrowing her eyes so the world didn’t split again, holding it together. ‘This whole thing is giving me a headache. Sophia’s lied twice, Luke lied, maybe he’s lying to cover for Sophia. Because weknowSophia knew about the foundations, because she toldyouabout them. But now Henry’s lying too, and I can’t figure out why. It’s all just too confusing and, yeah, my head hurts, but I bet yours does too. Whoa.’

Jet’s legs buckled beneath her, catching the arm of the couch, gripping on.

Billy swooped forward, wrapped his arm around her waist. ‘I’ve got you.’

‘I don’t need to begot,’ she said, wiping the sweat from her upper lip. ‘I think I just need to lie down. Yeah. Just like twenty minutes. A nap. Wake me up in twenty minutes, Billy. I can spare twenty minutes. And then we’re gonna work out why Sophia lied about leaving her phone, and what she was really doing at my house on Halloween. OK, deal?’

‘OK, deal,’ Billy answered, guiding her toward his bedroom.

‘And Luke should have sent the list by then; we don’t need Henry anyway. We have time. Twenty minutes.’

‘Twenty minutes,’ Billy promised, delivering Jet to the bed.

She sat down, kicked off her shoes. Lay back, head on the pillow, facing out. Billy pulled the comforter up over her shoulders, his eyes still troubled, dark and stormy.

‘Twenty m-minutes,’ Jet muttered, the drumbeat back in her head, eyes fluttering shut, locking her inside with it.

A soft rap on the door.

Jet sniffed.

‘Jet?’ Billy’s voice, soft too.

She opened her eyes, slowly. Phew. Nothing was doubled, everything looked right, looked normal. Her head ached, but she was getting used to that now, a new normal.

‘Has it been twenty minutes?’ she croaked.

‘It’s actually been forty. You wouldn’t wake up.’

‘No, Billy.’ Jet sat up, suddenly awake, suddenly angry. ‘We said twenty minutes. I don’t have time to –’

She tried to throw the blanket off.

Tried.

But her arm wouldn’t move.