Page 119 of The Bronze Garza

“Is your momall right?” I ask Holly. “She seems a little...I don’t know, depressed?”

Holly glances down at her bowl of ice-cream and offers a one-shoulder shrug. “She’s fine. Menopause, I guess.”

Something is definitely up. But that’s family business, not mine.

We’re lounging out on her balcony. Her with a bowl of chocolate ice-cream, and me with a bowl of cherry tomatoes and sliced avocados.

Albeit mentally distracted, I spent the last hour telling her about the past couple of weeks—omitting a lot of details, of course.

Somewhere along the way, our friendship lost its sacredness, and I just don’t feel as connected to her as before. She’d disappeared on me when I needed her the most, so her sudden eagerness to “bond” just doesn’t seem genuine. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t bothered to reach out to her with my new number after the kidnapping in Venice.

Even now, updating her feels more obligatory than anything else. Because that’s what we used to do, tell each other everything. These are all things she would’ve known if she hadn’t ghosted me.

Where Ireallywant to be right now is with Torin. In his arms, against his chest, snuggled up in his warmth. Not here in this cold, salty air with someone I’ve grown detached from.

“I don’t know how you’re still sane,” Holly says after scooping a mouthful of ice-cream in her mouth. “If I went through half the shit you have, I’d be on drugs by now.”

“Well, I suppose it’s true what the Christians say: ‘God never gives anyone more than they can bear.’“ I squeeze a cherry tomato between my thumb and forefinger and watch its juice dribble over the avocado slices. “Maybe He’s been lobbing all this shit at me because He built me and knows what I can withstand.”

But what about Kristie? He built her, too. Didn’t He know she wouldn’t be able to withstand the hand He dealt her?

A forlorn downturn to her lips, Holly idly swirls the spoon around in her bowl of ice-cream. “I can only hope to have a tenth of the courage you do, Ly.”

As I regard her, a sliver of suspicion slits me like a knick from a pocketknife. “The last time you called me, you told me you had something important to talk to me about. What was it?”

Her slightly widened eyes tells me she hoped I’d forgotten. And I had, until now. Her mouth does that open and close fish thing for a few seconds, and then she waves her spoon with an obviously forced laugh. “Oh, it’s not important now. I just had a pregnancy scare and freaked out.”

She’s lying.“What do you know, Holly?” I ask bluntly this time. “Why did you let go of me before I got hit that night? Why did you and Patrick leave me to look like I was crazy to the cops when you and I both know it wasn’t an accident?”

I’d suppressed all my suspicions only because I didn’t want to believe the things my gut was telling me. But now I’m unlocking that door, because I’m certain she’s hiding something and I don’t feel like ignoring it anymore.

She was there when I got abducted. She was there when I got ran over. She was on the phone when I got kidnapped, again. And she just so happened to be there when that girl almost got taken earlier.

Is it all a coincidence that she always seems to be there when bad stuff happens?

A nervous laugh leaves her. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Ly. I don’t—”

“Lyra.”

Warmth shivers through me at the sound of his voice.

We both twist around in our chairs to see Torin standing just inside the balcony doors. His unreadable eyes on me. “Ready?”

As happy as I am to see him, I’m more interested in what Holly has to say, so I bring my attention back to her.

With a distressed sigh, she stands and tells me, “I love you, Lyra. Please believe that.”

Before I can respond, she heads into the house, brushing past Torin.

On a sigh of my own, I look up at Torin and shrug. “I guess I am.”

I hugMrs. Wilson goodnight before leaving.

After several minutes of reflective silence as Torin and I trek along the beach toward the house, I say, “I don’t know what’s going on, but Holly is definitely hiding something.”

“She is.” Torin’s matter-of-fact delivery causes me to glance up at him. His arm is hung loosely around my shoulders, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he looks tired. Must be exhausting to be him. I feel almost guilty for bombing his vacation.Almost. Because I wouldn’t trade the past couple of days for anything.

“You know what she knows, don’t you?”