Page 88 of Harnessed in Gold

I stick my tongue out at her. “There’s no need to be sarcastic.”

She teases, “You look like a raccoon.”

“You look like a panda.”

Giggling, we swipe under our eyes with shaky fingers, trying to clear away the smeared mascara.

“Screw this,” she huffs. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

It takes an eternity for her to change into her robe and grab her bath supplies. The second the door shuts behind her, I collapse onto my bed, legs shaking. It took every last ounce of energy I had to wash my face and smile. I’m utterly depleted.

And scared.

I scarf the Hershey bar and will it to work fast. After about five minutes, the trembling in my hands eases enough that I can reapply my makeup. But it’s not easy to pencil my brows and dust powder onmy nose when, with every blink, I’m at the bottom of that river again.

I didn’t set out to go back to the same location of my first ancestor meditation, but that’s where I ended up. Clearly, whoever was trying to reach me had more story to tell. But what in the hell does that story mean?

And who was that beautiful man? I couldn’t tell if he was a stranger or someone I knew. And the cold that swept in—was that because Liv was trying to wake me? The river went from inviting to threatening. One minute it was my home, the next it was tossing me about like driftwood. I’m pretty sure I was drowning, but somehow I wasn’t suffocating.

None of it made any sense.

I check my phone. No return message from Avery.

“Come on,” I mutter. “Text me back.” I tap my fingers on the desk, hoping to keep them too busy to message anyone else.

A particular someone.

My whole soul is screaming at me,Text him. Call him.He’s the one I want and need. But in a matter of days, he’ll be gone. And then who do I turn to?

Jean flashes in my mind’s eye. Her benevolent smile and her cloud of white hair. What if I called the church and left a message for her? Is that what her midwifery patients do, or does she have a separate business line?

When Liv returns, I’m once again pacing the small room, my phone in one hand and my hairbrush, unused, in the other.

“Good lord,” she mutters, pointing to my desk chair. “Sit and give me the brush.”

I wince as she ruthlessly rakes it through the snarls in my hair.

“We’ll see if Jenna can sneak you a beer,” she says. “Because you seriously need to chill.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The pizza joint,like ninety percent of all American Greek restaurants, is named Dimitri’s. ‘Frescoes’ of grapevines, Corinthian columns, and olive trees cover its plaster walls. The wooden booths are also works of art—collaborative pieces carved by the keys of generations of Brownhill students. The armrest currently supporting my elbow boasts a couple’s initials and a block-letterU2, one of my dad’s favorite bands.

We order a feta cheese and olive pizza and a basket of fries to split between the four of us.

“Okay, Betts, spill the tea.” Mia leans across the table toward me. “What’s going on with you and Leo?”

My eyes dart to Liv. How much has she told them? Come to think of it, how much has Zander told them?

Jenna laughs. “Oh my god, Braden was so ready to kick Leo’s ass. He was all like,grrrr, like he was gonna defend Zander’s honor or something.”

Mia winks at me. “You go, girl. I can’t believe you introduced them like that.”

“Well, they weren’t going to have a showdown in the middle ofthe student center,” I say with a shrug. But the truth is, I introduced them because I didn’t know what else to do with myself. And because I’d already forgotten that Zander was a point of contention. The whole drama seems so unimportant now.

“And that Rime guy—” Mia prods Liv. “Braden was ready to take his ass down.”

Liv shoots a disinterested glance at Mia’s nudging elbow. “What does that have to do with me?”