Page 33

TREVOR

Ever’s sherbet-colored cottage is a beacon of happiness in a row of beige, stone, and gray houses. I quicken my steps, and Bandit does the same. He must know something’s up because he didn’t stop to sniff a million different things like he usually would on a walk.

Taking the long way back from Agnes’s gave me more time to think about what happened, and I’m still as fuming, and upset, as I was when I watched Bram drive away from her house, leaving me standing on the sidewalk. Instead of turning toward home, I turned toward Ever’s place.

I probably should’ve texted him first. I hope like hell he’s home because I need someone to talk to.

His front door opens when I’m halfway up the path. He’s dressed in jeans and a blue pullover I’ve heard Dmitri compliment. For a second, I worry he’s on his way to work, then I remember him saying last night that Asa was opening the shop this morning and he’d head in after lunch.

Ever takes one look at my face and frowns. “What’s wrong? ”

I huff a laugh that’s bitter and sad and gets stuck in my throat.

He raises his brows. “Shit. That bad, huh? Come in.”

I step inside his house, and the comforting familiarity calms me. Touches that denote Dmitri’s presence live throughout the space. “Is Dmitri home?”

“He should be back in an hour. He had a violin lesson with a student in New Island.” Ever bends to give Bandit the attention he’s begging for. “Come into the kitchen.”

Bandit trots after him, in hopes of the treats Ever keeps here for my dog. I follow slower, drawing in long breaths. I need to calm down.

When I enter the kitchen, the treat-giving is in progress. Bandit sits very nicely for Ever, then nips the treat from his palm.

Ever turns to the sink and washes his hands. “What’s going on?”

I grab the honey-infused whiskey from the liquor cabinet.

He eyes the clock, but doesn’t say a word about it being ten in the morning. “Want a mug or a tumbler?”

Even though I’m pissed beyond belief at her, I take a page out of Agnes’s book. “I’ll take a mug.”

I’m as at home in Ever’s kitchen as in my own. I press the button on the electric kettle and pluck a tea bag from his collection. “Remember us talking about the dark figures Agnes and a few other people said they’d seen late at night in town?”

“Of course. And you and Bram saw one that night at the festival.” He shakes his head. “I still can’t believe he hopped a fence to chase after something unknown in the dark.”

“I did the same thing last night.” I pour the boiling water into the mug.

Then add the splash of whiskey. “We confirmed the night of the festival that it was someone in a costume. They were outside my place last night. The dogs wouldn’t stop barking, so I took them out.

They saw the thing and raced after it.” I take a sip of my tea, wincing when I burn the roof of my mouth, then add another splash of whiskey.

“Long story short, the person dropped their mask. It was Agnes.”

His eyes widen. Resting his forearms on the island, he leans forward. “But Agnes told Jo and you how unsettled the creatures made her feel. Why would she make them up, and then feel the need to run around pretending to be one?”

“Apparently, for love.” Having already burned a layer of skin off, I sip my too-hot tea again. “According to her, Bram and I were hopeless, stubborn cases who wouldn’t act on our feelings for each other.”

“Huh.” To his credit, he doesn’t agree, just waits and listens.

“So she felt compelled to intervene.” I set the mug down. “That involved making up all the new cryptid sightings and getting her friends and other people in town to go along with it.”

“Damn.” He rocks back in his chair. “She never said anything like that around me. No one else did either. I’d have told you if I’d heard something like that.”

“I know you would.”

Ever gets up and pours water from the kettle into his own cup. Then stirs a spoon of honey into it. “I take it Bram knows?”

“Oh, yeah.” There’s that awful bitter laugh again. I sip my tea to soothe it.

“Where is he?”

“Took off.”

He stops stirring, his eyebrows nearly to his hairline. “Took off? As in, he threw his belongings into a bag and bolted?”

“No. As in, he grabbed his dog and drove away.” I puff out a sigh that sends the steam rising from my mug sideways. “He needed to, and I quote, ‘get the hell away from here’ and he ‘didn’t want to see any Maplewoodians.’”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m furious on his behalf. Breaks my heart too.

” I rub my hand over my chest, and my fingers bump my medallion, sending fresh shards of pain through me.

“Because he did the podcast episode and Cryptid Night, when word gets out about the hoax, he’s worried people will twist the details and think he was in on it.

This could fuck with his career. Maybe ruin it. ”

Ever blows out a long, low whistle. “I know Agnes meant well, but wow.”

I turn the mug around, following the looping line of an illustrated bee in flight. “You know how people in this town like to talk. If asked to keep a secret, they don’t. Someone always slips. Then the rumor mill adds new details and turns things around. We’ve seen it happen.”

“We have.”

I blow out a breath and raise my gaze to his. “I’m worried this might make Bram leave.”

Ever ponders the liquid in his mug for a second, then considers me, tipping his head to the side. “Did he seem angry with you?”

“No. Not me. But he might be too disgusted and annoyed with the whole situation and it’ll always be associated with how we got together. Maybe he won’t be able to get past that.”

He taps my foot with his. “You’ve been best friends since you were ten. You talk to each other nearly every day. He’s not going to cut you off.”

Heat sears into my hands. I’m gripping my mug too tight, but I need something to hold on to, something to ground me while my world rips apart. “You didn’t see the anger and anguish on his face. Feel his body stiffen. Hear the pain in his voice.”

The corners of his eyes and mouth turn down. “I’m sorry, Trev.”

If Bram doesn’t want to stay here, but still wants me, could I leave this place? I love Maplewood. My business and my friends, my whole life is here. I’ve never wanted to live anywhere else. But now that I’ve had a taste of what I’ve shared with Bram, I don’t want to lose it.

A stained glass bee on the window catches my attention. Bright and sunny, the exact opposite of how I feel. “How can I fix this for him?”

“I don’t know that you can.” He pats my arm and I can’t tell if it’s in support, sympathy, or resignation.

“I have to try.” I can’t stand the thought of Bram hurting. My fingers drum the side of the mug. “Maybe I can get Agnes to record something, taking full responsibility for what happened and emphasizing that Bram had zero inside knowledge.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Turning his head at the sound of Bandit’s approach, he sits back so he can give my dog scratches.

“If you have enough of the hoaxers do the same thing, saying you and Bram didn’t know, and that they did it for love, that could be pretty convincing.

But then again, I don’t think many people would voluntarily make a public statement admitting that they lied to fool others. ”

“That’s true.”

What Bram said about me, and by extension, the inn, getting dragged into this because I co-hosted Cryptid Night, makes my stomach queasy, but right now, my priority is him.

I need to figure out how to help him, and hope that whatever happens, he’ll still want me.