completely sick to my stomach? Because I am.
“Boo is fine. As for the window …” He squeezes one eye closed.
“Oh boy. That’s what I thought. I’m already downing expired Benadryl I found in my grandmother’s medicine cabinet to make me drowsy enough to sleep at night.”
“That sounds super not good,” he says, frowning. “Don’t do that.”
“Evie says it’s safe for cats and dogs and babies, so I figure it’s okay for Josies.”
“Look, the window is mostly installed and should be finished up by tomorrow. It wasn’t cheap, but it was no Summers & Co by a long shot, so stop taking expired allergy medicine. Seriously. Okay?”
“Okay.” I tap my fingers on the receiving table, a little nervous. “Any word from the Summers or the police?
“There isn’t such a thing as CCTV in Beauty, and no private security cameras caught them. The lady who owns Regal Cosmetics on the corner said she’s willing to testify that she saw a blue car drive through here at that time, but she didn’t see the actual crime. And neither did we.…”
“But we know he did it. And they never had me breaking the window on camera either.”
“But they had my confession,” he says. “And Adrian will flay the skin from his body before he confesses.”
“Then what happens next?”
“I don’t know, honestly. My dad’s a little worried. I think some of the damage is covered by our insurance, but mostly he’s concerned about Levi Summers and how it affects us long term, businesswise.”
“He’s your father’s biggest customer?”
“Pretty much. But it’s more than the actual dollars he pays us. If he takes his business away and tells other people to do the same …”
I nod. “Yeah, I get it. He can have you guys blacklisted.”
“That’s one way of putting it. He’s got a lot of influence in this town. Owns a bunch of property. The department store. The newspaper.”
The magazine, I think, but I definitely don’t say it out loud.
“What are your parents going to do about it?” I ask.
He scrubs the back of his neck and shakes his head, shrugging with one shoulder. “They’re just waiting to see how things shake out.”
“Lucky?” I ask in small voice. “Do you think I should tell them that I broke the department store window? Would that help?”
His brow lowers. “Absolutely not. You said you wouldn’t, Josie.”
“But—”
“We already talked about this.”
“Why, though? Wouldn’t it be better for your parents if Levi Summers knew I did it? I don’t want to ruin their business—this is my fault.”
“What about LA? What about your father not taking you in if you have a police record? What about your mom putting you in a car and dragging you out of town before your grandmother even comes back—what about that, huh?”
Oh. Did I say that in the police station? Wait …
Is he worried I’m going to leave town again before Grandma comes back from Nepal? I try to catch his gaze with mine, but he won’t look at me. His eyes light everywhere but on my face, and that’s how I know for certain.
He’s worried I’m going to leave.
Well.
To be honest, so am I.
“Okay, hey,” I say. “I won’t tell them I smashed the department store window.”
His shoulders relax. “Okay.”
“It’s going to be fine.”
“It’s going to be fine,” he repeats.
I’m not sure either of us believe that one hundred percent, but we’re trying.
He taps his fingers on one of the book carts and looks around the stockroom at shelving filled with boxes of supplies and fixture parts—pegs and old signage and book stands—until his gaze pauses on the open door near the receiving desk. “That’s new. Used to be sitting off its hinges and the inside overflowing with junk.”
“Mom and I put it back on and I cleaned it out.” I brush off my hands and walk to the walk-in closet. “Darkroom. See? A very rudimentary, very tiny one.”
“You develop film in here?”
“Yep.”
“How does it work?”
“Like this …”
He follows me inside. “Wow. Close quarters.”
Man, he’s not kidding. I should’ve thought this through. “Uh, well. It’s normally just me in here.”
“Right, yeah. Cool clock,” he says, pointing to the wall. “Analog?”
“That’s my timer.” I try not to bump into his arm as I shuffle around him to flip on a lamp that sits on a makeshift plywood desk under the slanted part of the ceiling in the corner. Then I scoot past him, shut the door, and close a floor-length curtain over it.
“Cozy,” he says.
“That’s to ensure no light leaks in here from cracks,” I