Forgotten Tales, A Wild Beast

by taweretsdagger

Summary:

Kate didn’t tell Juliet she was going to kill Wayne, even though she said she would. Juliet was about to graduate med school. She had her whole life ahead of her. And where was Kate? What was ahead of her?

A follow-up from the Valentine's AU series, set about a decade later. Kate's been on the run, but something's calling her home again. And whatever happened between her and Juliet, anyway?

Chapter 1: Prologue

A spitting sheet of rain drew down around the hospital. Here and there, the whooshing sound of wet tires entering or leaving the employee parking lot. Deep into the night—morning, technically, about half-past three—Juliet emerged from the automatic sliding doors in a yellow raincoat, her scrubs on underneath. No umbrella, and half the time she didn’t put the raincoat hood up, either.

She walked quickly to a nearby bus stop awning, lit a cigarette thumped out of the pack she kept in her coat pocket, and stomped it out on the wet concrete once she’d finished smoking it. Then she went back inside.

The whole thing never took more than a few minutes. But after the first time Kate witnessed this routine, she started parking around the corner at midnight and staying until dangerously close to dawn.

At first she’d wondered if the smoke breaks would be a frequent occurrence throughout the nights Juliet worked—two on, one off seemed to be her typical cadence. Sometimes three on, two off.

But she only ever made one appearance per night. Always right around the same time, lasting right around the same duration.

Even after this became clear, Kate kept the same watch hours. In the intervening nothingness, she busied herself imagining what Juliet was doing inside the hospital. Always she was the one saving the day in these fantasies. Pulling an obscure answer from her well of knowledge, or giving a nearly-dead patient a smile radiant enough to start them back up.

Kate didn’t know much about the ins and outs of hospitals beyond what she’d seen on TV, but she loved to picture Juliet yelling “Stat!” after everything she said. Asking for medications or supplies, excusing herself around someone in a crowded hallway. Ordering coffee. Stat! Stat! Stat!

Enough nights had been spent this way for Kate to start questioning her own endgame. She’d arrived in town after a torrid drive straight through from Tallahassee, stopping only long enough to swap Kevin’s car for an impound lot rescue. Feeling grateful she’d held onto her suitcase of vintage license plates, sparing a rare ounce of gratitude to Wayne for being the one to collect them in the first place.

Like father, like daughter.

Whenever his voice showed up in her head, it was saying things like that. Things she’d never heard him say; things he never, ever would have said.

She regretted that moment of gratitude in a way she hadn’t once regretted the heat of the fireball against her back. Even the faint scent of something unfamiliar on the wind that she sensed, rather than understood, to be charred human flesh.

The impound lot was in South Carolina, and the car was still outfitted with plates from Texas. So she went with Oregon for the new set, trying to spread all the contributing geographies out as far as possible.

Now she was close to home, closer than she’d been since right after it happened. Closer to Juliet than she’d been since… well, a good long while before she skipped town.

At first, she’d just wanted to see a place Juliet frequented. Seeing her take that first nighttime cigarette break was a happy accident. Soon it spun out into something Kate dreamt of while she struggled to sleep the day away in the motel by the freight junction. Flimsy shades pulled down and lopsided; the rattling, squealing tracks next door never given more than a few minutes at a time to rest.

Nearly a month went by before she promised herself she’d call it quits. Routines were dangerous; she didn’t need to learn that lesson another time. Just as dangerous, to get caught up waiting to see Juliet as it was to be sitting in the same spot for hours on end.

There were several promised “last nights.” Maybe four or five. Then one of them fell on an off-night, one where Juliet didn’t show up at all. It didn’t make sense to make that night the “last night.”

Then, on the on-night Kate decided once and for all would be the last night—no exceptions, no excuses—Juliet appeared with her left arm in a sling. Raining again, so her yellow coat was hung over that shoulder like a cape.

Out under the awning, she fumbled with the pack of cigarettes a few times before she dropped the whole thing into a puddle on the ground.

Even from the distance Kate always left between them, she was sure she saw Juliet’s lips form a curse word as she threw her head back in frustration. Then her gaze darted over to where Kate had parked, as if she’d foreseen her location.

She hadn’t—Kate was already out of the car, and had slammed the door harder than she meant to. A rare, firm sound on the bleak and lonely street, and as Kate approached the bus stop she saw the outline of Juliet’s figure tense up.

She relaxed once she recognized her, but then her expression turned a mildly alarming mix of baffled and furious. Like the familiar stare she’d often employed in childhood had grown a few feet taller, spent some time lifting weights.

It wasn’t enough to scare Kate off. She’d grown her own alarming impulses a few feet taller, too.

“Probably good that you dropped those—didn’t they teach you about cigarettes in med school?”

“I must’ve been daydreaming during that lecture,” said Juliet coldly. She crossed her non-injured arm across her chest, gripping the elbow in the sling so hard her knuckles blanched. “The people who designed the modern residency schedule had awful cocaine habits, you know. These will kill me a lot slower than that would. Not to mention crashing my car going home because I can’t stay awake. Besides, I only have one per shift, and only when I work nights.”

“I know,” said Kate without thinking. Her eyes got wide as Juliet’s narrowed. “Uh, no, I—” she stammered. Then sighed and shook her head. “Ugh, whatever. I’ve been… uh… coming here, at night. For like, the last month?”

Juliet eyed the pack on the ground longingly, like she was considering an attempt to salvage it.

“Why?” she asked simply as she looked up at Kate. Her tone less cold, more curious.

Kate had been watching Juliet for weeks, but she hadn’t been close enough to get a good look at her face until right then. Still lovely, still a face she wanted to drink in for hours. But she felt herself reeling back from what should’ve been a welcome sight.

It was the new sharpness in Juliet’s eyes, the slight narrowing in her cheeks. She looked older. The years they’d spent apart knocked into the center of Kate’s chest, carried by the realization that they hadn’t just been an intermission. That time had continued marching on without them or their consent.

“I’m not really sure,” she said finally, before she remembered what had driven her out of the car. “Is your shoulder hurting again?”

She glanced at it as if she’d forgotten anything had been amiss in the first place. “Oh, it's nothing—I just tweaked it setting a kid’s leg. I wouldn’t have bothered with all this normally. But you know—workman’s comp, liability… They take that stuff so seriously.”

Kate didn’t know. There wasn’t anything like that at the farm; in all her seasons there they’d never even asked for her social security number. One time she cut her thumb on a tractor blade, and another worker pulled a single band-aid out of his pocket. He’d said with a laugh that it was a good thing she didn’t need more than that, and she hadn’t even thought to ask what would’ve happened if she did.

Juliet’s expression softened, and her mouth hung open like there was something important she wanted to say. Her ire had been no problem for Kate to handle, but that look made her want to turn on her heel and bolt.

She kept herself from doing anything so dramatic, but she did take a step backwards, hands shoved in her pockets.

“Anyway, I should go—I was planning to take off once it gets light. I’ve been in town too long. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Where have you been staying?” she asked.

“Just some shit hole motel by the train tracks. One where they don’t ask questions.”

Juliet reached her hand up to grip the back of her neck, rolling her head back and forth in a slow arc.

“Do you want to go by my place before you leave?” She gave a half-smile. “Take a shower, have some food? It’s not that nice an apartment, but it’s no shit hole, either.”

Kate knit her brows together. “Are you sure? I think that’s a felony on your end.”

“Maybe you can make it look like a break-in,” she said as she pulled a pen and notepad out of her scrubs pocket to jot down her address. “I can even scream when I get home, if that helps.”

With only one hand free it took some finagling, but it was clear it wasn’t her first time performing a maneuver like that. Getting Kate to wonder for a moment how honest she was being about her shoulder.

She tore off the piece of paper and held it out with her key, but jerked her hand away when Kate reached for them.

“My shift ends at six—promise me you won’t leave before I get back.”

Again Kate reached, and again Juliet pulled away. This time with a pointed, icy stare.

Kate rolled her eyes. “Fine, I promise,” she said in a mocking tone. Another little half-smile from Juliet as the paper left her grip.

“Thank you,” she said. Mocking right back on the surface, but there was a layer of sadness beneath her words that Kate couldn’t let herself think about.

Not when Juliet had work to get back to, not when Kate was lingering out on a public sidewalk as close to home as she was willing to tread. The time spent there far too long, and still nowhere near long enough.

“Don’t kill anyone,” called Kate after her on her way back to the entrance.

Juliet whipped her head back as she let out a quick, snorting laugh through her nose. “Yeah, noted.”

The rain was falling hard enough to plaster her hair to her head on the short walk, and Kate wished she’d thought to tell her to put her hood up.

Really, she wished that she’d gotten close enough to lift it up for her.

Chapter 2: One

Then:

Seven fraught years of friendship with Juliet, ones that made Kate want to tear out her hair about as often as they’d made her heart swell and sing.

Rachel had a joke she liked to make, about those years being like Kate and Juliet’s version of a conflict or series of trials with similar duration, something she’d learned about in a story. Or maybe it was a history seminar. Kate could never keep track of which of Rachel’s examples were fact and which were fiction, since the line between the two seemed blurry in her world.

All that tribulation, yet the primary emotion which met Kate in the early weeks of her romantic relationship with Juliet was something so simple and familiar she found it almost disappointing. More than infatuated—more than anything—she spent that time feeling impatient.

There was just so much waiting, so many empty voids between the last final moment with Juliet and the next first moment with her.

If only it was like the movies, where people fell in love and started seeing joy and beauty everywhere. All Kate saw was Juliet—if no direct reminder of her was available, she saw her absence itself. Like she was simultaneously haunting all the places where she wasn’t located.

So often Kate wished she had control over time, that she could speed it up to hurry through those voids and slow it to back down to a crawl once she and Juliet were together again.

But whenever she started dreaming of this, there was a devil on her shoulder waiting to remind her that Juliet would surely be leaving in a matter of months. That tampering with the clock would only bring that day down sooner.

Then she would get so frustrated by the whole conundrum that she'd feel too angry to focus on whatever she was doing at the time. As if she had a big decision to make between using or not using her time manipulation powers, instead of the whole thing being a tortuous thought experiment she forced onto herself for no good reason.

Getting together with Juliet at the precipice of winter’s end may have been to blame for her impatience, at least. It was the season Kate always spent staring hard out the window, tricking herself into thinking maybe those little knobs on the maple trees were budding leaves.

She developed a habit of bouncing on her toes whenever she was waiting somewhere for Juliet to appear, as if she might break into a run once her feet could find purchase on the slick ground. Like with the maple leaves, often she’d trick herself several times into thinking she’d seen her, before the bright swath of her hair truly bobbed atop a crowd in the hallway or poked out her front door.

Finally and mercifully the rest of her would then appear, becoming less like the maple trees than the first stubborn crocus breaking through the snow. Even more than something to hope for; seeing Juliet was something that carried an abundance of hope all its own.

Every time her eyes found Kate, she smiled. Her wide, toothy smile—the one that always seemed like it had broken free of her control.

Often, Juliet reached for her once she got close enough—squeezing her hand or putting an arm around her shoulder as if giving her half a hug. Moving slowly, Kate could tell—keeping her public gestures limited to things that weren’t necessarily outside the realm of reason for her to do before.

Even still, Kate spent a few weeks swimming in self-loathing, waiting not to recoil instinctively at that first contact. It was hard to ditch the fear that someone was waiting to jump out from behind the lockers and point a big flashing finger at them. Then once she overcame that hurdle, she spent a few more weeks waiting to feel brave enough to be the one to take Juliet’s hand instead.

In time she got there, her own courage making it out of the ice like another stubborn flower.

Fortunately, there’d been no real chance for either of them to worry Kate might be having second thoughts in the interim—whenever they found themselves alone she struggled to keep herself and her hands from launching at Juliet, usually giving in within the first couple minutes after the door had shut or the movie had started. For awhile Kate tried waiting half-heartedly for that instinctive reaction to vanish, but it never did.

They spent Sundays together, since Juliet did her homework on Saturdays to get it out of the way. About a hundred times Kate had protested that her college applications were in-flight, so there didn’t seem any point in her keeping up the high school ruse. Juliet had about a hundred of her own arguments back—transcripts, honor programs, advanced placement credits—but something told Kate she wouldn’t be able to slack off if her life depended on it.

On a Sunday near the end of March, they walked around the park arm in arm wearing their light jackets. About time they were able to make do with those, instead of the marshmallow-fluff parkas that stretched down to their knees.

“Why are we doing this?” Kate whined, kicking at the loose gravel on the path. They’d been walking long enough that she wasn’t cold anymore, so she couldn’t keep complaining about that.

“We’re on a date,” said Juliet with her other smile—the small, almost derisive one that seemed like something she put on mostly for her own amusement. “We’ve barely seen the light of day lately.”

“That’s what winter’s for.”

“It’s spring, technically.”

“There’s still snow on the ground!”

“But it’s melting—don’t you smell it?” Juliet tilted her head back and drew in a long sniff, letting it out as a satisfied sigh that crystallized into the air. She bent the arm linked through Kate’s a little tighter, slowing her steps so they wouldn’t trip over each other’s feet.

Despite herself, Kate was glad that Juliet was right. The snow was melting, and it was warm enough for lighter jackets. That meant that when Juliet tugged her closer, she could catch the scent of her neck and feel her shoulder give beneath her clothes. Before, she might’ve felt nothing past the down of her coat, the buffer of that armor bubbling up into an irrational worry that maybe Juliet herself had shriveled up to nothing inside it.

They left behind the open field in the park’s center as the path delved into a sparse, chittering forest.

“What makes this a date, even?” asked Kate. “We’re just walking. Jack’s mom comes here all the time with her friends.”

Juliet scoffed. “Strolls through the park are a time-honored courting tradition. And it’s a date because we’re dating. I doubt Margot and her friends do half the other things we do.”

Kate blushed, and got a look like she had no right to play coy.

“But, fine,” said Juliet with a tilt of her head. “Dates are supposed to be for getting to know each other, right? Why don’t you ask me a question about myself?”

“I know everything about you already.”

“Come on, I bet you can think of something. Now’s your chance—you get carte blanche. At sunset, I go back to being mysterious.”

Her eyes shone with mischief, and she gave Kate a little bump with her hip. Nearly enough to make her stumble, but she was too quick on her feet and Juliet’s arm was linked in hers too tightly.

For a minute Kate thought while she observed the woods around them, and she was loath to discover that there were about a thousand new things about Juliet she wanted to know—it seemed like she came up with another one for every tree they passed. Things she’d never even thought to ask her, maybe because she didn’t know she was allowed to.

Again she was struck with impatience. She wished she could plug a wire into Juliet’s head and download every detail about her all at once.

She’d start by digging into how on earth she managed to be right so often—by far her most enigmatic and aggravating characteristic. That didn’t seem like a good question to pose on a date, though.

“Okay, here’s one—what are you most afraid of? Like, right now?”

Juliet tapped a finger against her chin. “Hmm. Probably that I won’t get into college.”

Kate laughed. “Like, any? Out of the fifteen you applied to? Come on, be serious.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, it could happen—it’s always a crapshoot. Anyway, that’s my answer.”

“Well, what’s after that?”

“Dying.” Her lips pursed together, and her arm slackened like she was preparing to pull away.

It was such an abrupt swing from the item at the top of her list that Kate laughed again, though the sound came out more hollow than it had at the first.

“Why, is someone after us?” she said, trying to keep her tone light as she turned her head from side to side dramatically.

But she didn’t like the infinitesimal increase in the distance between them, not the way Juliet’s eyes had averted. She wished they were already back at her house, hiding somewhere safe so she could wrap her whole self around her.

“No, just in general,” said Juliet quietly. “I mean, it has to happen sometime. And it’s the worst thing that can happen. So why would I bother being afraid of anything else?”

“Other than being a straight-A student who somehow gets into zero colleges?”

“That’s a different kind of fear.”

Kate shook her head. “I don’t get you at all.”

The corners of Juliet’s mouth tugged a little wider as she met Kate’s eyes again. “So what, are you saying I stumped you? When you thought you knew everything about me?”

“I guess you win, then.”

Her laugh rang out, so lovely and clear that it almost eased the anxious, gnawing feeling in Kate’s stomach.

“It wasn’t supposed to be a game,” she said. “But ooh—that reminds me, we should play Scrabble with Rachel before she leaves tonight.”

Kate groaned. “No way—I always lose. I’ll only play something I have a chance at.”

Juliet veered them off the trail a ways before she dropped her arm, instead taking Kate's hands as she turned to face her.

It might’ve been true that the snow was melting, but it was still cold enough for gloves. Even with them on, though, Kate could tell that Juliet’s hands were colder than hers. The way they always were—the one part of her that never quite warmed up.

Her anxiety got superseded by a bright thrill, as she thought of how her cool hands would feel later. The little squeal Kate would try in vain to hold back while Juliet giggled and shushed her. Making the sounds right against Kate’s neck, raising her hair on end.

“Maybe I’ll let you win,” murmured Juliet, moving close enough that Kate had to take a step back, right into the trunk of a tree. The bark was sharp and jagged, but she didn’t flinch.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to do that,” she said, stretching taller so their eyes were close to level.

Juliet made a capitulating, musing hum just before she pressed her lips to Kate’s and rested her hands lightly on her hips. Nowhere near warm enough to melt, but enough to thaw. And the intensity of one was always heightened so early in the season—keen like a lightning bolt, threatening to strike Kate down. The tree digging into her spine close to the only thing keeping her standing.

“Let’s go home,” Juliet whispered, getting an immediate nod back.

They linked arms again while they made their way out, and Juliet asked Kate what she was most afraid of.

“Wayne,” she said without thinking. Juliet agreed, like it was a response she expected.

Meanwhile Kate chewed on her lip, feeling the burden of a lie building in her chest during the silence that followed them to the parking lot.

Exactly what the truth was, she couldn’t put her finger on. But she knew it had to do with both Juliet’s fears, and the general idea of her going somewhere where she couldn’t be so easily felt.

* * * * *

Now:

It was so like Juliet, to massively undersell how fancy her apartment was.

When Kate stepped inside, the first thing she did was gasp. Then she was hit with annoyance, targeted at some combination of Juliet’s false modesty and the low thrum of a well-trodden reminder—basically, wrapped up in how little Juliet had ever had to do without.

Guilt was woven into that reminder, too. Kate knew up and down that it wasn’t fair to feel annoyed about things Juliet hadn’t chosen for herself. Things she generally rejected, and was generally interested in using to help others. No debt from college, so on to med school it was. Giving her graduation and birthday money away freely, offering up whatever she had available to whoever needed it.

Just like she was doing with Kate.

No amount of guilt could stop her from making good use of Juliet’s hospitality, though—not then and not ever. She meandered around the perimeter of the high-ceilinged, creamy dwelling, luxuriating in the pre-dawn peace and quiet. Ran a hand along the shining appliances, inspected closely the shapes carved into what seemed like original moldings encasing all the doors and windows.

Then she showered for close to forty minutes, using every one of the bright-bottled, sweet-smelling products lined up along the tiled floor. How many times each she washed her hair and skin she lost count, but it felt like she had to be scrubbing clean much more than the eighteen or so hours which had passed since her last shower at the motel.

To sleep, first she stepped into Juliet’s room. Then stopped short at the sight of her unmade bed, and pulled the door shut hard as she backed away slowly. Instead she stretched out on the couch, setting a timer on the stove to finish a little while before Juliet was due home.

She told herself she wasn’t sure yet whether she’d keep her promise. But as she drifted off and her defenses crumbled, the idea of departing without even an image of Juliet’s face in daylight to hold onto filled her with such raw terror that she knew there wasn’t really any other choice.

In the end it didn’t matter what choices she had or didn’t have, because Juliet got relieved from her shift early. She turned off the timer first thing when she entered the apartment, the stove emitting only a single short beep in response.

But Kate had always been a light sleeper, having grown only more so in recent years. When she startled on the couch it made Juliet jump, too, like she hadn’t expected to wake her up.

“Sorry,” Juliet whispered as her hand flew to her chest. Then she chuckled, and raised her voice a little. “Sorry—I don’t know why I’m whispering. Did you eat?”

“Not yet, but I can make something for us,” said Kate quickly as she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

The thin, silky throw she’d covered herself with slid off her lap onto the floor. She felt a momentary stab of longing for the chest of handmade quilts and scratchy wool blankets in Juliet’s old basement—the way piling two or three of them over themselves made them feel like they might get pressed into the couch like flower petals.

“You don’t have to do that,” said Juliet.

She returned to the entryway to shrug off her raincoat, emptying the contents of her pockets into a shallow dish on the table there. Her sling abandoned, and a fresh pack of cigarettes already acquired, Kate noticed.

“It’s no problem.”

Kate hurried across the open-plan living space to the kitchen, searching through the cupboards with great purpose like she knew where anything was kept or what she had planned.

Juliet watched her retrieve a few things with an intrigued expression before she seemed to give in, sighing and shaking her head slightly.

“Okay, then I’m gonna shower.”

After she’d gone to the bathroom, Kate stopped to review the assortment of items she’d collected on the counter. Even absent Juliet’s audience, she felt obligated to make use of them, though she did admit that some—like the barbecue sauce, canned tuna, and raw almonds—might be better off staying put away.

There were chocolate chips and baking powder among the mix, but cookies didn’t seem right for the hour, even if both their schedules were out of whack. Pancakes it was, then—something to set them right.

Once Kate had an actual goal, finding the things she needed was easy enough. Everything was in a place that made sense, the various goods and wares sorted by size and shape. Exactly the way she’d have assumed Juliet would organize her kitchen.

In her earlier perusal of the apartment Kate hadn’t gone so far as opening up drawers and closets, but suddenly she was dying to. The idea of all Juliet’s clothes being stacked or hung just as neatly filled her with even more joy than the pots and pans and pantry did.

She’d only gotten through making a few pancakes by the time the shower stopped running. So she plated what was ready and stashed the bowl of batter in the fridge, making a mental note to tell Juliet it was in there so it wouldn’t go bad after Kate had gone.

After Kate had gone.

She froze in front of the stove after she'd shut it off, heat still rising from oil in the pan and flaring against her chin. Just for a moment, she’d forgotten. She’d let herself forget.

That was why she’d been planning to leave before dawn. That was why coming back was a bad idea in the first place.

One last task on her way out the door—famous last words. As much as her decision to perform it had been a conscious one, she'd been convinced she could handle it. So sure the years spent darting from one place to the next had given her new things to care about—dangerous things, important things—and reason enough to let the old things go.

The sight of Juliet as she stepped out of the bathroom didn’t help her case. Wrapped up tight in a terrycloth robe, smiling as she squeezed a towel around the ends of her hair.

With all those new things to care about, Kate had lost sight of how dangerous and important she was, too.

She forced herself to smile back, and brought the plates to the table while Juliet dressed in her room.

After returning in her pajamas, Juliet doused her pancakes in maple syrup before sitting up straight to cut them with her knife and fork. Kate skipped the syrup, and when she realized she’d forgotten a second knife she made do wedging in her fork to saw off one piece of pancake at a time, resorting to lifting the whole flopping thing to her mouth whenever she couldn’t quite separate the bite with anything but her teeth.

For a minute or two Juliet watched her, until eventually she lay her knife on the edge of Kate’s plate.

“I don’t need that,” said Kate with her mouth full.

She shrugged. “Then don’t use it.”

Kate tried to give her a menacing glare, but mustn't have succeeded based on the smirk she got in return.

She felt a rush of pride when she took her last bite without having once touched the knife, desperately wishing she was mature enough not to care about something like that.

“So, what have you been up to?” chirped Juliet as she stacked their dishes by the sink. She sat back down and rested her elbow on the table, propping up her chin with her fist.

“Oh, not much. Working on my dissertation, mostly.”

“Oh yeah?” Her eyes lit up, and another day Kate might’ve teased her about getting excited about the prospect of even a wanted criminal’s fake dissertation.

“Yeah. I’m cataloguing the worst twenty-four hour diners in the country. I order the same meal at every one and rank it on a scale from sandy cardboard to soggy cardboard.”

“What meal? That could really influence your findings, you know.”

“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes—I knew to pick a classic.”

Juliet raised her eyebrows. “Meatloaf?”

“I had a bad experience with diner tofu early on,” said Kate. “Besides, ‘meat is murder’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it anymore.”

She looked away. Her eyes landed on a photo of Juliet and Rachel up on the wall, one of them smiling with their arms around each other. Ankle-deep in the ocean, palm trees at the edge of the frame. Maybe in Miami, then, visiting their mother. Infrequent enough of an event that it might have been the only time they’d gone since Kate and Juliet had last seen each other.

It couldn’t have been too much longer ago than that, at least, since Rachel’s hair was gone. A lavender scarf tied around her head to shield her from the sun.

“That makes sense,” said Juliet.

Kate could feel her staring, but she kept her gaze on the photo.

“How is she?” she asked without turning.

“Good,” said Juliet forcefully. “Still in remission as of her last check-up, and she’s got another one next month. She’s much less worried about dying now than not being able to have kids.”

“That’s good.”

Finally she looked at Juliet, right as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“What are you doing here?”

“Making you breakfast,” said Kate. “Which I think you forgot to thank me for, by the way.”

Anger wasn’t quite the word for what clouded Juliet’s expression, but she certainly wasn’t happy with that answer.

“Thanks,” she said coolly. “Now can we get serious, please? You said it yourself—I’m putting myself on the line with all this. So it’d be helpful to know what exactly I’ve gotten caught up in.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” said Kate. “All I promised was that I wouldn’t leave before you got home, and I didn’t.”

She rolled her eyes. “God, fine. You know what, don’t tell me. Maybe that’s better, right? The less I know, the less they can get me for.”

“Right,” she mumbled.

Juliet took a long breath and rubbed a hand against her forehead. “I usually make tea before I go to sleep—do you want some? Or do you have to go?”

“I’ll have tea.”

She’d gotten her daylight view of Juliet’s face, but still the idea of leaving scared her so much her heart pounded just thinking about it. Better to let rush hour traffic come and go, anyway. Getting nabbed over a fender bender in a stolen car would be far too lackluster an ending to her saga.

Juliet nodded as she stood, touching a hand to Kate’s arm for a second before yanking it back hard against her chest. Like she’d done it without thinking.

Kate made herself stare at the photo on the wall again while Juliet fussed with the kettle, doubly scared by the idea that just that second of contact had been enough to get her heart pounding, too.

Chapter 3: Two

Notes:

Let's put that M rating to good use! :)

Now:

Whatever variety of tea Juliet had prepared smelled earthy and wonderful while it was brewing, but Kate’s face puckered into a frown as soon as she tasted it. She tried to take a few small sips to be polite, but the bitterness only intensified with each. So she settled for keeping her hands wrapped around the warm mug while she asked Juliet about work.

Kate remembered that she’d been interested in research when applying to medical schools, since she’d enjoyed working in a lab for course credit during undergrad. But they’d spoken so infrequently throughout the following few years that she didn’t have much else to go on.

Things stayed muddy even after getting answers out of Juliet. There was a lot of jargon and acronyms in them, and a lot of discussion of exams she’d had to take even after finishing school—plus more that were waiting for her in another year or so.

Something stuck out, though—the research efforts she’d been involved in didn’t seem to overlap with the usual routine of her night shifts. She didn’t reveal any information that sufficed as an explanation for why she’d been working so much at night lately—at least for the last few months, from her telling of it. And also, made it sound like that wasn’t required of her, being a few years out from medical school and having paid most of her dues already.

“One last question,” said Kate for at least the third time, getting a knowing smile in response. “You say you only smoke when you work nights, but it seems like you work a lot of nights. So you might be smoking kind of a lot.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Okay, fine—do you work nights a lot? What about your research team, do some of them work at night, too?”

Juliet shifted in her chair and took a long sip of her tea, like she was putting off giving an answer. “Um, no. I’m taking a break from research.”

Kate furrowed her brow. “Really? Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, maybe I’ll understand if you try to answer without using any big words.”

She sighed, and kept her eyes fixed on the mug in her hands. “I was in a… relationship. With my boss—well, the doctor leading the research team I was part of before. Technically I report through the residency organization, so it wasn’t against the rules for us to be involved. But it wasn’t… um, it still wasn’t a good idea.”

“Is she hot, at least?” teased Kate, sensing Juliet’s discomfort as palpably as if it’d caused the temperature of the room to shift.

“Not she,” she said as she scrunched up her nose. “And no, I wouldn’t say so—even my own bias aside. Though since we ended things I have learned that he makes a habit of fraternizing with research assistants, so maybe there’s something there that I’m not seeing.”

“And what, there’s only one research team at the whole hospital? I thought that stuff was the reason you wanted to be a doctor in the first place.”

“It was—it is. There’s more to it than him.” She gave a frustrated sigh. “I just needed a break. It all takes so long, it’s not like stitching up a cut or giving someone antibiotics. It’s been nice, to focus on something more tangible. I need to finish up my specialty rotation hours this year, anyway, and the staff is much smaller at night. I’m learning a lot.”

“Well, that’s great,” said Kate uncertainly. There was a strange quality to Juliet’s voice, like there was more to the story that she wasn’t sharing. But Kate walked her own voice back to joking. “How old is he? I mean, he was your boss, kind of. Like, is he a lot older?”

She ducked her head a little and scratched behind her ear. “Not a lot older. Forty-seven, I think?”

“Oh, that’s nothing. I fucked a sixty-two year old in New Mexico.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“A woman, though. Maybe it’s different.”

“It’s definitely different,” she mumbled.

“Anyway, do you have any gnarly injury stories? Torn-off legs, guts falling out, anything like that?”

“I’ve been talking forever,” said Juliet. “When do I get to ask you something?”

Kate shrugged. “Go ahead.”

She stared while she drained the last of her tea, smacking her lips as she set the mug down. “Well, you could tell me more about this sixty-two year old.”

“You’re very predictable, you know,” said Kate with a smirk.

A flash of hurt crossed her eyes, but she smiled back. She stretched and looked over her shoulder—toward her room, as if about to announce that she was going to bed.

Kate’s heart started pounding again. If Juliet was asleep, it would be difficult to find reasons to keep hanging around her apartment. And she wasn’t ready to go; she wanted more time. Just a little more.

So she cleared her throat, then set her mug off to the side and leaned over the table with her arms crossed, bowing her head just an inch. Like she used to when they’d tell each other secrets at lunch.

That pose caught Juliet’s attention, all of her seeming to perk up as she angled closer, too.

Kate ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth before she spoke. “Honestly, she was one of many. Not older women, necessarily—though a lot of them were in their late thirties, forties at least. Bored housewives were usually who I was looking for. I could’ve found some our age, but it made me too sad, the idea of them being so bored already.”

She eyed Juliet carefully, checking if she looked like this was something she’d rather not hear about. But she had only leaned in more, her brows only climbing higher. Kate bit her lip to stop herself from smiling as wide as she wanted to.

“Turns out it’s like, laughably easy to pick up straight suburbanites at a bar for girls’ night. If you tell them you’re wanted for murder.”

“No way!” said Juliet with a laugh. “What about the cops?”

“Well, I’d say it as a joke. Kind of. With just enough truth in it to get them wondering. And I never gave my real name, so if they tried to look me up it wasn’t like they’d find anything.”

“That's still so dangerous! And what about all these women who are so interested in a maybe-murderer? You didn’t worry one of them might, I don't know, get inspired?”

Kate scoffed. “They were the least of my worries. I’ve had to deal with a lot of sketchy people. But now that you mention it, there is a little game I’ll play whenever I’m doing something dicey—housewives included.” She let her mouth spread into a devilish smile. “You’d like it, actually. I call it ‘What Would Juliet Do?’”

“Oh yeah?” She laughed again. “And what would Juliet do, when coming onto a woman by bragging about murder?”

“Who said anything about bragging?” said Kate. “I made it sound like a sob story, played up the damsel-in-distress thing. I think they liked that, since a lot of their husbands were probably just as bad as Wayne.”

She ignored the way Juliet's face had softened. “Anyway—just the basics, really. Wait to get a good read on the person before saying anything. The fake name, like I mentioned. Plus no second locations—well, maybe their car, but I always made sure I pocketed their keys first.”

Juliet’s jaw dropped bit by bit throughout the explanation. Like even the most mundane details of Kate’s day-to-day life were as mind-boggling to her as all the medical lingo had been to Kate.

“It’s not as easy as it sounds though—for a couple reasons. Mostly because you’d never be in any of these situations in the first place. So I get stuck a lot, and have to settle for hoping my own tiny brain is enough to keep me alive another day.”

With a soft, sympathetic sound Juliet drew her brows together and inched her hand forward on the table, and Kate shook her head like that wasn’t the point she was trying to make.

“The other issue was pretty specific to the housewives. Because once we’d start, well… you know—even once I knew they wanted to, like putting on the whole ‘woe-is-me,’ ‘oh-my-boring-maybe-evil-husband’ thing—I’d start playing it a little differently. And then I have the opposite problem—I can’t give it up.”

She dropped one hand beneath the table to rest on Juliet’s knee, fighting not to get entranced by how her breathing quickened, how her eyes snapped right up.

“How does that version go?” she said as she slid her chair closer.

“Here’s an example,” Kate murmured. “Juliet would… make an outline of my face sometimes, like she was going to draw me. Even though she sucks at drawing.”

With her other hand she reached toward Juliet’s temple, tracing one finger along her cheekbone and jawline and back up the other side, letting her hand hover over her brow while her eyes fluttered shut.

“Juliet would look at me like a cartoon dog looking at a steak.”

She did her best to recreate the stare of Juliet's she’d appreciated most. Sure that she wouldn’t do it anything close to justice, until Juliet opened her eyes and immediately mirrored it back.

“I think I almost got it,” she said, her voice low. “Maybe one more?”

“Usually you pick up on games way faster than this, Carlson.”

“Cut me some slack—I just worked all night.”

“So did I. Someone had to watch out for you on your smoke break.”

Juliet’s stare changed shape as she cupped Kate’s chin in her hand. “And who’s watching out for you?”

Briefly Kate’s lip trembled, but she sucked in a breath to steady herself. “You, duh. See, you don’t understand the rules at all.”

“Then give me another example,” she said more commandingly, keeping in place the hand beneath Kate’s chin. Tugging her closer.

This time the breath Kate drew in shook. “Juliet would… make a happy little sound, right before she kissed me. One I’d always feel right in my stomach.”

Juliet smiled as she hummed out something like a laugh, then moved her head forward so their lips barely brushed. As if checking whether it was something she would rather not do.

“Yep, just like that,” Kate mumbled against her mouth.

It seemed license enough. At first Juliet slid her chair closer, the high-pitched scraping at the feet making them both jump. But then she thought better of it. Standing fast, bending down to kiss Kate as she took her face in two hands and pulled her forward.

She had to scramble up to avoid falling out of her chair, and by the time she recovered her footing Juliet was pulling her again, walking backwards, driving them toward her bedroom door. Her hands moved frantically, not grabbing Kate’s shirt as much as getting stuck in the hems like they were fishing lures. Tugging them along wherever they went—over her breasts, her arms, tangling in her hair. Every time Kate tried to touch her in return her hand got batted away. It didn’t seem purposeful; there just wasn’t room on the field for a second player.

They paused along their route when Juliet pushed her hard against the door frame, giving Kate enough of a break to put together what was happening.

Everything she’d missed—no, way more than missed. Everything she’d returned to, day after day for the last seven years, details that had gotten constructed into the closest thing to refuge her mind had to offer. All of it hit her at once. She might have thought she’d be ready to re-live her experiences in the corporeal world, after sheltering inside them for so long.

But the real thing was so different. No amount of daydreaming could’ve prepared her for how it felt to have their chests pressed together, to feel Juliet’s hands running up and down her sides. Even less, the way she smelled and tasted—her usual sweetness undercut by bitter traces of the tea. Something sharp and sad and new, heightening how precious the refuge had been while making Kate yearn for more of it to be undercut.

What the bitterness did for Juliet’s flavor, the fervid movement did for the feeling of her hands. So much newness, tripping Kate up as she tried to think back to any similar evidence lurking within the version of Juliet she’d known once, known better.

When Kate thought about it, the most aggressive thing she’d had a habit of doing back then was—

Like Juliet had read exactly where her mind was headed, she moved away the hand holding—when Kate thought about it, very nearly squeezing—her throat, and sank her teeth into the muscle connecting it to her shoulder. Salivating, even. Again resembling the cartoon dog with a steak.

She peeked up at Kate as best she could with her jaws still in place, giving her a chance—a narrow one, from with the way she drew up the hand on Kate’s thigh and rubbed along the seam between her legs—to yell uncle.

But she wouldn't dream of it. “Please,” was what she panted out, and Juliet pulled her along once again.

Somehow all their clothes made it onto the floor between the door and their destination—Kate lost track of who was responsible for each specific item. It was well after sunup, but Juliet had thick, dark curtains over all the windows, which wouldn’t have made it easy to get a good view of anything passing between them under the most lucid of circumstances.

And lucidity had gotten left behind somewhere in the kitchen, or maybe back at the motel. Juliet’s shirt had been her doing, she knew, since she’d been able to make out the faded graphic enough to recognize it as one from high school. One they’d given all the kids who got on honor roll every semester, all four years.

Then she got momentarily distracted by a joke she could make about Juliet’s good grades. It wasn’t too clever, but her wits were otherwise occupied. That moment of distraction was enough to cover things over like another blackout curtain, and before she knew it she was lying prone on the bed. Cheek squished into Juliet's pillow, a direct and intoxicating source of sweet fragrance.

Just as Kate wished to herself that she could pair it with that newfound bitter edge, she heard Juliet give a small, tight cry. It was enough to prompt several, piecemeal realizations like a good shove.

First, Juliet’s left forearm—digging in across her spine. One leg hitched across the backs of her thighs. Those two limbs on the edge of pinning her down, held back by what of her weight was supported by the others.

She could’ve been holding back for her shoulder’s sake as much as anything, based on the sudden, incongruous memory which flooded into Kate’s head. It was tied to the cry Juliet had let out, and one of the few memories which stood a chance of winning out over the molten, buzzing sensation spreading throughout her body.

Then she realized Juliet’s underwear hadn’t made it onto the floor, after all—there was the fabric's friction, as she rubbed herself against Kate from behind. That detail finally got all the pieces to add up to something. Something that sent her head whirling, that easily got her to moan long and loud.

At that, Juliet slowly ran her hand down the mattress along Kate’s torso, her fingers barely stretching underneath her at first. Then further as she went down, then a little further, until two of them were dancing inside her, another stroking up and down. Kate moved back and forth in an almost agitated manner, desperate to press herself in every direction so she could meet Juliet’s hand and the rough warmth between her legs at the same time.

“Would Juliet do this?” came her hoarse voice from above, just before her tongue ran slowly up Kate’s back toward her hairline.

“No,” Kate whined into the pillow. “Never.”

Juliet shifted the arm propping her up to stretch beneath Kate on the other side, tips of her fingers struggling to reach the side of her breast, almost crawling toward her nipple. Pinching hard once she found it, just as her other hand began to move faster, stroke harder.

She was all-consuming—surrounding Kate on all sides. The full span of her chest against her back, her rapid breathing puffing hard and close into her ear. But it still wasn’t enough. Kate squirmed as much as she could beneath her weight, trying to get to whatever was closer than being surrounded on all sides. Until abruptly she moved at an angle that was like another hard shove, propelling her into a climax all at once.

The groan she let out was just as sudden, hard and startling. Juliet seemed to jump back at it, despite certainly being able to feel the firm contraction of the muscles around her hand. Before she rolled off Kate she planted a light kiss between her shoulder blades, startling her right back.

Kate struggled to catch her breath, and the low part of her abdomen was still jumping around as they moved to lie side by side. Through the dim light and eyes she could barely keep open, she watched Juliet bring her hand to her mouth to suck her fingers clean. Heavy eyes made lighter, close to bugging out of her head.

Right away she started shimmying down, overcome with the need to taste Juliet in return. But she grabbed her tightly by the arm.

“Don’t,” she said. “I want to see you.”

Something lonely lingered in her expression. Kate nodded quickly, not wanting to dwell on it too long.

Juliet’s hand stayed clamped on her as Kate pulled down her underwear and touched her gently. Blooming all her fingers in and out, the way she used to like. It seemed to still do the trick—her legs fell open further, another wet rush of warmth out from between them. She whimpered through a bitten lip, and when Kate placed her other hand along her jaw she leaned into it.

Soft, breathy sounds and the sleepy eyes hovering on Kate were far more like the Juliet she knew. Far riskier, that Juliet was. The way her brows bunched in as her breaths got closer together and her pitch ascended. How her whole body jerked forward as one of the whimpers dragged out, tied off with Kate’s name. Uttered in a gorgeous, delicate, pleading tone, that Kate wanted to catch in her hands and hold onto forever.

Who, other than Mars, had last called her by her name—her real name? She felt her hands start to shake a little as she searched and searched. Harder, when she couldn’t come up with anything. At first, she worried that it had been Juliet herself, but as her electric blue eyes came back into focus for a moment before they closed all the way, Kate felt more terrified by the idea that it had been anyone but her.

Within just the minute or two she spent searching in vain for an answer, Juliet fell fast into sleep. Her head was still resting partly on Kate’s hand, so she carefully eased her down onto the pillow and moved it out from under her cheek.

She’d let herself look at Juliet for another minute—maybe two. Five, tops. Just to watch the small twitches across her forehead, like she still had things to worry about and work over while she slept. Just to pull up the covers that’d been thrown to the foot of the bed—by who, Kate couldn’t remember any better than who'd taken off their clothes—so she wouldn’t be cold when she woke up.

The digital clock on the nightstand crossed over the five minute mark. Kate sighed, told herself she’d close her eyes for another minute or two, just to make sure she properly internalized the slow, even rhythm of Juliet’s breath. She wanted to set it inside her like a metronome, something she could use to keep herself balanced the next time it felt like the world might collapse beneath her feet.

But the rhythm was too soothing, and Kate had gone too long with anything to soothe her. And once her eyes were shut, she felt Juliet’s soft hair tickle the top of her chest as she nuzzled into her.

Maybe she would’ve changed her mind consciously, but she joined Juliet before she had the chance to do anything more.

Chapter 4: Three

Notes:

CN for a suicide joke in this one (midway thru the "Now" section)!

Then:

“I’d like to make a toast,” rose Dr. Carlson’s voice over the low conversation around the table. He lifted his nearly-empty wine glass before setting it down, then pulled the nearly-empty bottle—the third one he’d ordered, Kate was pretty sure—out of the bucket of ice beside him. She and Rachel were in charge of driving and thus hadn’t contributed to the consumption of those three bottles, but a small amount was poured for each of them before the other glasses got topped off.

Despite a fair bit of pleading, Juliet had put her foot down against her dad’s initial idea—an extravagant catered graduation party at their house, complete with a live band in the backyard and a string quartet in the front. (Based on the estimated head count he’d thrown out, the attendees likely would have included their whole extended family and about half the senior class.)

Instead, they compromised on inviting a guest list of Juliet’s choice to dinner at the nicest restaurant in town. That wasn’t a particularly high bar, but the place was neat and homey, most of their provisions supplied direct from the same farm Kate had worked the previous summer. They’d ordered one of everything for the group to share, and the underaged, non-designated drivers among them managed to drink plentifully without getting any trouble from the wait staff.

Kate knew already that Dr. Carlson was widely beloved—a very different sort of town-doctor from Christian, in whose presence people tended to avert their gaze and trip over themselves to avoid the risk of triggering his displeasure—but she hadn’t been witness to the rewards of his reverence before. It certainly helped that he’d been handing out generous tips to everyone who did so much as show them to their table or top off their water glasses from the moment they first walked in the door.

Kate liked the peculiar way she felt cradling the scant wine glass in her hand. She’d very much liked how it’d felt to catch Juliet’s eye whenever one of them turned their head to the side, and to bump her knee against hers under the table now and again.

Like a grown up—that’s what it was. Like she could do anything or go anywhere, and no one could tell her to stay put.

And that made her want to stay put. Prior to the toast, she’d been stretching out the last few bites of her dessert while Dr. Carlson told tall tales to Juliet and James about his own college days. Bragging about wins and lamenting defeats in equal measure—like they were his buddies, rather than his teenage daughter and the friend of hers who might’ve ended up in juvenile detention once or twice already if the two had never met.

“You’re supposed to do the toast before you start drinking,” said Rachel with a roll of her eyes.

“Alex was in the middle of telling us the specials—it would’ve been rude to interrupt.”

“And you didn’t want to wait that long,” muttered Rachel, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

He grinned and mirrored the same twinkle back. “Of course not. Two daughters, all grown up? That’s a reason to indulge if I’ve ever heard of one.”

He cleared his throat as he lifted his glass again, spinning the stem between his thumb and forefinger. Kate copied quickly, then the rest followed suit, one by one around the table like a sporadic pattern of dominoes.

“Now, we’re here in Juliet and James’ honor, but I hear it takes a village. So I think you all deserve a little honor.” He motioned to Rachel with his glass. “First, to the best big sister in the universe—my own sisters included—who never fails to put me in my place. You’ve pulled way more than your share of the weight over the years, Rach, and the work you’ve been producing lately is just incredible. The next Michelangelo, and I potty trained her!”

“Jesus christ, Dad,” said Rachel with a snort as her cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson.

“And to the junior who saved the math team at sectionals.” He jabbed a finger in the air toward Sun, and her face broke into a dazzling smile. “She hasn’t even taken calculus yet, but she can solve a third-order derivative under duress—very elegantly, I might add. Not only that—because of you, Sun, I got a hug from Woo-Jung Paik in that auditorium! That’s got to be an exclusive club I’m now part of, so I owe you big time.”

Then on to James’ uncle, who’d donned the nicest flannel shirt he owned and done what he could to smooth down his wiry hair. He still looked a bit out of place, but as usual carried the aura of unbothered amusement that followed him no matter what setting he happened into.

“Frank, you and I haven’t spent nearly enough time together, and I hope that changes once we’re both empty nesters and bored out of our minds. But know how much I admire you for stepping up on James’ behalf. Parenting is hard enough under much the best circumstances, and you’ve done a really fine job in one of the worst ones possible.”

Before he addressed James he cleared his throat again, and tension flickered across his brow.

“I think you’ve heard what I want to say most a few times already, kid, so I’ll skip to the end.”

In the long pause he took before continuing everyone but James cast their eyes down to the table.

“In a just world we never would’ve met, but I’m proud to know you. Anything you need as long as I’m still kicking—just ask, and it’s yours.” He chuckled. “Though, considering you got your way through college fully paid already, I might be the one coming to you for a favor before long.”

He took a small sip of wine. “I’m not done, of course, but this is taking longer than I expected. Bear with me, because there’s some backstory for the next piece… Kate, have I ever told you about the girls’ first day of school here?”

She shook her head.

“Dad!” hissed Juliet, piquing Kate’s interest enough to look over at her.

Juliet turned away slightly, and her loose, straightened hair fell in front of her face like she was hiding behind a curtain. Through it Kate could tell that she was blushing for sure, brighter than Rachel had. All the way up to the tip of her ear, and down to her shoulders and the plane of her chest. Stark against the white cotton of her dress, and the sparkling pendant necklace her mother had given her at lunch that day.

“Count your blessings Jules—at least there’s no potty training in this story,” said Rachel.

“I’ll keep it brief,” Dr. Carlson promised, though his cheek twitched like even the abridged version might not spare Juliet much in the way of further embarrassment.

“As you might guess, moving here from Miami was a bit of a culture shock. And it’s always tough starting at a new school, especially in the middle of the year. Getting Juliet out the door that first morning felt like a miracle, and I was a mess the rest of the day. You never know how kids will behave, and I worried that if things didn’t go well there’d be no chance of her going back for day two.”

A crystal-clear memory of the day Kate had first seen Juliet appeared. Right as it did, James shot her a vaguely teasing look, making her wonder if he’d heard this story a time or two before.

Her heart started pounding, and all the background chatter throughout the restaurant seemed to float far away.

“But then another miracle happened. I drove home from work that night with my stomach in my throat, dreading the worst. Only to get accosted by this one the second I came in the door.” He nodded toward Juliet. “She was talking so fast that it took me a few tries to figure out that it was good news, and then a few more to get all the details straight. Maybe you know where I’m going with this by now, Kate.”

Juliet kept her face bent away, but she darted a hand under the table to grasp onto Kate’s.

“Anyway, her big news was that a really nice girl sat with her on the bus home, and made sure she didn’t miss her stop. Not only that, but she’d called me out on how ill-prepared I was, as far as the girls’ winter wardrobes went.”

He bent his head in a similar fashion as Juliet, but straightened up quickly with a self-deprecating roll of his eyes.

“Somewhere in all her excitement to go back to school the next day, Julie begged me to unpack my baseball caps to help her prove she at least had a hat to wear. Again, this was in February. Finding them took forever—they weren’t a high priority in such a big move. And the whole time I was elbow-deep in junk, I felt this odd mix of gratitude that a stranger cared enough about my daughter to put me in that position, and shame that I hadn’t thought ahead enough to put myself in that position. And I kept thinking to myself, ‘damn, I’ve got to meet this girl.’”

He smiled wide at Kate. “Luckily, I got the chance.”

Finally Juliet lifted her head. The flush on her face had cooled, but her eyes seemed too glassy for it to be just from the effects of the wine, Kate thought.

“Last but not least—nowhere near it—the ball cap beggar herself. Smart as a whip, and when people ask me what she’s going to do with her life I say happily that I have no idea, because no matter what she does I know it’ll be phenomenal. Talk about being proud to know someone, Juliet. Happy graduation, congratulations, I love you, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Please tell me you’re done,” Rachel piped up into the silence that followed.

Laughter echoed, and with another wide smile Dr. Carlson assured her that was the last of it, since he wasn’t about to toot his own horn. He signaled to Alex that they were ready for the check.

(Though while everyone drained the last of their wine, he did go on to boast about knowing all the right answers in the newborn care class he’d taken with Juliet and Rachel’s mother before Rachel was born.)

Kate drove Sun home in her truck—a recent hand-me-down from her dad—while Juliet rode shotgun. The two passengers were a fair shake beyond tipsy, and wouldn’t quit giggling or pestering Kate the whole way. She acted like she was annoyed, but her own high from the graduation festivities and the dinner and the toast was resonating too loudly for anything else to stick.

On their way back to Juliet’s, Kate tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel, unable to stop herself from looking over at the passenger’s seat about once a minute.

You should do it right now, thought Kate. Just say it.

Juliet was angled toward the window, watching the lingering summer evening with a placid, sleepy look on her face. The bottom of her dress had gotten plenty wrinkled throughout the day, and was bunched up high enough to expose the pinkish birthmark shaped like a heart (or a lima bean, depending on the angle) midway up the outside of her thigh.

Kate came really close to telling Juliet she loved her the first time she’d kissed her on that birthmark. But she’d thought it would be better to wait until they had all their clothes back on, so it didn’t seem like something she was saying in the heat of the moment.

Then she came close another few times, each one with some other obstacle which made the timing feel not quite right. Enough times, that she was beginning to wonder if she was making excuses. If the problem was that she’d always loved Juliet in one way or another, so she didn’t know how to convey that she meant something different by it this time.

Or, if it was actually much simpler, and she was just scared Juliet wouldn’t say it back.

Or if she was scared that she would say it back, and that it’d only get that much harder to say goodbye when they parted in the fall.

Juliet had gotten into every one of the fifteen schools she’d applied to, which Kate had teased her about relentlessly. The weeks between receiving that last acceptance letter and the deadline to commit to just one place seemed among the most stressful she’d ever experienced. Nearly every time they spoke she asked Kate what she should do, no matter how many times she got scolded that it was a decision she had to make for herself.

Kate knew that keeping herself tethered to that sort of response was essential, to ensure she avoided blurting out that the thought of Juliet going anywhere which required a trip by plane—even anywhere further than a few hours’ drive—made her want to throw herself on the floor and sob for hours.

Though she knew it would never happen, she held onto a tiny sliver of hope that she might choose the state university just forty minutes down the road, where she’d been offered the same generous scholarship James would be making use of.

Of course, Juliet’s reasoning against that selection wasn’t anywhere near pretentious—if she denied it, the full ride would pass on to the next runner-up after her and James. She knew she didn’t need the money, and wouldn’t be caught dead taking something she didn’t need.

In the end Kate breathed a sigh of near-relief, since she picked a small, prestigious school in the city nearest to them. Not even two hours away. She wouldn’t be able to have a car on campus her first year, but Kate had her new-old truck and would be able to visit her at least once a month.

A full suite of adventures had been planned by Kate for their summer break—now that she had her own vehicle and could take Juliet anywhere she wanted, she was determined to show off all the spots she loved near and far from home. Most of them were places she usually went with her dad, either a destination of one of their adventures or a treasured stop along the way.

Between the summits and swimming holes, that ice cream place in the middle of nowhere, and the vintage map store housed in a falling-down barn, it was going to be a packed schedule. They’d have to get started right away if they were going to make it through everything in time, so the next morning they’d be driving into the mountains to hike to her favorite waterfall.

When they got back Kate tried to insist that they turn in, but Juliet had other ideas. Without changing out of her dress she flopped down on top of the covers, then turned on her side to watch Kate lay out their hiking clothes on the dresser. She tugged further her already-ridden-up hem, rather futilely attempting to look like she wasn’t doing it on purpose.

“That waterfall isn’t going anywhere,” she said. “And it might rain tomorrow. We could postpone it by a day. Stay here, watch a bunch of movies.”

Kate faced her with the shirt she was in the middle of folding tucked beneath her chin. “If we start out the summer that way we’ll never stop. Plus it’s better to do this trail on a day it might rain. Otherwise the parking lot gets too crowded.”

“But that’s why we’re getting up early.”

“Aren’t you the one who says even a backup plan needs a backup plan?”

“I have no recollection of saying that,” she said coolly before she smiled with her bottom lip between her teeth. She let go of her dress to stretch her hand out and wiggle her fingers.

Kate sighed and finished folding the shirt before she gave in, getting close enough for that outstretched hand to grab her by the forearm. Juliet pulled her toward the bed, pushed herself up enough to kiss her. One of the straps of her dress drifted down off her shoulder, and the necklace glittered askew beside her sternum.

“Since it might rain, maybe we don’t have to get there so early,” said Kate, moving her lips to a warm spot between the necklace and the place where the strap of her dress should’ve been. Remembering with a jumping feeling in her stomach how pink the skin there had flushed earlier.

“Exactly,” Juliet sighed as she rustled their hair together with a nod.

It was good they reached an agreement so quickly—the tone of her voice combined with the hand she caressed down the side of Kate’s rib cage would’ve been enough to get the whole summer’s plan thrown out the window, if she’d decided to make such a request right then.

Kate almost told Juliet she loved her that night, but once more there was the problem of their clothes being shed too quickly. So she decided to try again tomorrow.

* * * * *

Now:

Waking up in Juliet’s arms was like a mind-control drug. Close and potent enough to extract Kate out of space and time, keeping her anchored only to the heart beating in her ear, the soft warmth of skin against hers, and—when she angled her face up—the small, gentle smile into which Juliet’s lips were curled involuntarily.

It grew more purposeful as she stirred, and for a moment they looked at each other in a bare and happy way that belonged in a bygone era. Both of them stayed suspended in it for a moment, the memory of precisely how and why that era had passed becoming something secondary.

Still it crawled in, like memories often did into freshly-aware minds.

As reality caught them up, Juliet’s arms stiffened and slackened around her all at once. Kate chewed on her lip and pushed herself free, turning away to look at the clock. Not willing to give Juliet the chance to be the one to let go first.

Especially not while she had that expression of guilty confusion on her face. Almost like regret. Maybe not almost. Kate was hesitant to look too closely and find out for sure, instead staring at the bright red numbers like they were a puzzle that needed solving.

It was close to four. With any luck, Juliet would need to get ready for work soon, and Kate wouldn’t even have to make the choice to leave. She’d be pushed out the door by circumstance.

“What time do you have to be at the hospital?” she asked, desperately trying to sound like she didn’t care any which way. Despite knowing in her core that she cared deeply, though, she wasn’t quite sure what her preferred response would be.

“Oh, I’m off until Wednesday. So not for another… fifty hours.”

Kate turned on her back with a sigh and stared at the ceiling. Based on the sinking feeling in her chest, that must have fallen on the end of answers she’d been hoping not to hear.

Things like discipline and resolve weren’t resources she possessed in abundance around Juliet, least of all while lying naked in her bed. But she fought to access what of them she could. No five-minute warnings, no excuses. She would get up. She had to get up just to start things off, and every step after would get easier.

She would get up, in three… two… one…

“Maybe you could stay, until then?” danced Juliet’s soft, unsure voice into her ear. A voice like the curling, delicate tendrils which sprouted from pea blossoms—wrapping one by one around each smidge of discipline Kate had unearthed in her heart and casting them aside.

Getting on her hands and knees to dig them up again from felt out of the question, but she had to try.

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but Juliet didn’t wait for the denial she surely sensed coming.

“Just consider the logic of it—you’ve been here for a month, and no one’s any the wiser. The police haven’t asked me about you in years. And I went by the place you were staying on my way home—it’s just awful. I didn’t even like being near there in my car with the doors locked.”

“It wasn’t that bad. It’s nothing, compared to—”

She sat up abruptly, putting on an aggravated expression as she crossed her arms over her bare chest. “I don’t want to hear it! That won’t do your case any favors, either.”

“What case? You’re the one asking me to stay. I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to leave me.” Her bottom lip quivered just before she turned away and sniffled.

Something like anger rose up in Kate inch by inch, and she let herself get consumed by it, rather than risk discovering that her instinctual reaction to Juliet’s tears still persisted underneath.

Something like immediate and total surrender, followed by touching her as much as was possible, depending on whatever environment they were in at the time. Based on their current state, the sky on that one would really be the limit. Way too risky to move past the anger.

“I’m not leaving you,” she said. The words tasted like a lie even as they formed around her tongue. “I’m just leaving.”

Juliet looked over—eyes still mercifully dry—and uncrossed her arms to trace a finger along Kate’s collarbone.

“And I’m not asking you not to. Just to put it off. Take advantage of me a little longer, before you slink back to the shadows. Eat, drink, be merry, et cetera.”

Kate rubbed a hand over her face and groaned. “I don’t know…”

“Please,” she said, her brow and cheeks and eyes opening up like they always did when she wanted something. Making her look eager, and young, and near-impossible to turn down. “For my sake, if not yours. This was the best I’ve slept in ages.”

Another groan from Kate. Those were the closest thing to magic words Juliet could’ve chosen, and she had to know it.

“Okay,” she muttered. Juliet’s eyebrows rose higher, like she needed a more earnest agreement than that. “Okay, I’ll stay. Just another fifty hours—set a timer.”

Juliet beamed and reached toward her phone on the nightstand. Kate caught her by the wrist and pulled her down, close enough to feel her breath along the side of her face.

“I’m kidding,” she said with a chuckle. “Please don’t actually set a timer.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Juliet said, a little too defensively to be believable.

Kate angled her face like she was about to kiss her, but just as Juliet’s eyes drifted shut she pulled back, depressing her head down into the pillow.

“So your sleeping thing—is that still going on?”

She huffed out a breath and tugged her hand away. “It’s not a sleeping thing—I sleep fine, once I manage to get there. It’s about something happening while I’m sleeping, which is different.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” Kate teased, raising an eyebrow. “And yet, if I hadn’t happened to roll into town, you would’ve been shit out of luck today.”

“Well, what’s your diagnosis, then?”

“Hmm…” She tapped a finger against her chin a few times before she held it up in the air. “You know what, I’ve got it—too much Stephen King in your formative years.”

Juliet gave her a playful shove and collapsed back onto her pillow. “It’s not Stephen’s fault my house was basically haunted.”

“Was not,” said Kate. She turned onto her side. “I would know, wouldn’t I?”

“You weren’t there all the time. Just on weekends.”

“Not in the summer.”

“It was a lot more active in the winter.”

Kate burst out laughing. “So what, your guy was only on the clock Monday through Thursday, with summers off? The other ghosts must be so jealous of that contract.”

“Yeah, he had the best job in town.” Her eyes flicked over, and the corner of her mouth twitched. “But if I had to do it for eternity, I’d want to kill myself for sure.”

“That’d be a problem.”

She nodded, and turned to face Kate before shifting closer and playing with one of her curls. “Do you believe in any of that stuff now? Not just ghosts, I mean—like, the afterlife?”

“No, not really,” said Kate with a shrug. “I kind of think everything just… stops. You?”

“I didn’t use to. But I’ve seen so many people die since I started working. It helps, to think of them going to heaven. Whatever that means.”

Her mouth screwed up, like maybe it wasn’t just about her patients. A lump formed in Kate’s throat thinking again of the picture of Juliet and Rachel on the wall. She hurried to swallow it down.

“I don’t get that. Because if there’s heaven then there’s hell, so some of them have to go there. Wayne’s definitely there, so they’ll have him to deal with forever. Nothingness sounds a lot better than that.”

Juliet’s mouth softened, and she dropped the curl to place her hand gently at the top of Kate’s chest. Fingers barely brushing the bottom of her throat. For a minute she said nothing, seeming content to feel it rise and fall while she watched Kate squirm under the acuity of her gaze.

Her pulse picked up speed, only kicking higher when she realized Juliet could almost certainly feel the increase beneath her hand.

She waited, for Juliet to say that Kate wasn’t like Wayne. That she wasn’t going to follow him. But she didn’t.

“Why does heaven existing mean there has to be hell?”

Kate balked, and her eyes zig-zagged across Juliet’s face. “What do you mean? Because it has to. Good things can’t exist on their own.”

She slid her hand up to Kate’s neck and inched toward her until their noses and chests and knees were all brushing.

“Why not?”

Her mouth was so close that Kate could feel the nerves in her own buzzing in anticipation of how it’d feel when they met. She was a second away from finding that out, when her scattered gaze settled on the look in Juliet’s eyes. Right away she knew what it was, since it made her chest flutter the same way it always had.

If she was going to stay for fifty more hours, it was way too soon to kiss Juliet while she looked at her like that. So she kicked the covers off them before bouncing backwards and out of bed, then stretched her arms toward the ceiling with a yawn.

“I’m too hungry to get so existential. Let’s have breakfast. Or dinner. Whichever you’d call it.”

Juliet sat up and mimicked Kate’s stretch and yawn. Her arms floated against the wall, and she drummed her fingers there while she thought.

“More pancakes?” she said with an excited grin, as Kate searched around for her clothes on the floor.

“I’m gonna need to take better advantage of you than that. We’re ordering pizza, or Chinese. Maybe both.”

She inspected a shirt that turned out to be that honor roll one of Juliet’s, then chucked it at her.

“I vote both,” said Juliet as her hands flew down from the wall to pluck the shirt off her lap, and she tossed a pillow back in retort.

Kate dodged it easily, even though she was hopping around on one foot to get her underwear on. She watched Juliet slip the shirt over her head, and when she emerged from the neck pretended not to notice that the look in her eyes hadn’t faded one bit.

Chapter 5: Four

Then:

As Kate had predicted, the truck’s radio lost reception well less than halfway into the drive to the trailhead. Ear-tumbling static crackled out of the speakers while Juliet dug in her backpack for the cassette tapes of her dad's she’d stuffed in at the last minute. She hadn’t put too much thought into her choices, since she’d been trying to argue with Kate at the time that the drive wasn’t that far, so the radio would most likely hold out just fine.

In a rare turn of events Kate was the one with the knowledge and experience to prove Juliet wrong, and she intended to relish the novelty of it. She didn’t fight the smug smile that appeared on her face when Juliet looked down resignedly at the unvaried musical selection in her lap.

“It’s all Springsteen,” she said in a disappointed tone, as if she hadn’t been the one to pick them out in the first place. When Kate shot her a look to this effect, she glowered back. “We would’ve had more to choose from if your truck wasn’t a thousand years old—I can’t believe you don’t have a CD player.”

Kate pressed on the gas pedal—the choking sound the truck uttered in response seemed to indicate it was taking Juliet’s side. But both the truck and Juliet needed Kate to get them anywhere worth going, so she didn’t mind being ganged up on.

“Springsteen’s fine,” she said lightly, turning her head to the side and feeling her heart melt when Juliet’s previous indignation disappeared without a trace.

Juliet sighed as she picked one out and pushed the tape into the deck. Then she retrieved her iced coffee from the cup holder, sucking in a loud, flapping sip of what little remained. Her gaze warmed the side of Kate’s face like she’d lit a campfire in the passenger seat.

She’d known Juliet for nearly half her life, and for most of that time would’ve put her down as the person she understood best in the world. So it amazed her how much there’d been to discover in the few months since the nature of their relationship had changed. Yes, plenty of facts and details from her life, her hopes and fears, and things like that. But also, the way she tended to act in certain situations, and—when making such a guess was possible—why she acted that way.

One of the most useful lessons Kate had learned so far was that Juliet didn’t take kindly to mistakes or shortsightedness of her own doing. That she almost always responded defensively when these were laid bare for others to see, even absent any criticism or notice from the audience.

It was a useful lesson mostly because it was one she’d learned the hard way. Several times.

She'd learned that if she met Juliet on the plane of wherever she deflected the initial, imagined criticism (such as to the age of Kate’s truck), even with humorous intent, the conversation would devolve into an argument and before long they both would lose track of what they'd been arguing about in the first place.

The ‘why’ of this behavior hadn’t made itself precisely known, though Kate had a feeling it had something to do with how infrequently Juliet made mistakes. Likely it just wasn’t something she had much experience in, so Kate figured she might as well offer herself up as someone with whom she could practice.

Springsteen was fine, anyway. Good road trip music, clashing only a little with the annoying sucking sound coming from Juliet’s iced coffee remnants. Clashing enough, though, that Kate snatched the cup out of her hand and threw it onto the floor of the truck’s narrow backseat.

“Hey, I wasn’t done with that!”

“Yes you were.”

Juliet rolled her eyes, but touched her hand against Kate’s elbow with a smile before she dug around in her backpack once more, this time to find her book.

They hadn’t hiked together much, tending to stick to walking in the park or around the main shopping district downtown when they wanted to stretch their legs. As Kate took advantage of Juliet’s attention being lost within the pages to let her eyes linger on her—perhaps a little longer than was safe, driving on a winding rural highway—she thought that it was a real shame they didn’t go more often.

She looked adorable, all dressed up for an adventure. Hair in a high, sporty ponytail, traces of white sunscreen still visible along her nose and jaw. She wore a short-sleeved blouse whose ends she’d tied in a knot at her waist, and baggy nylon shorts with huge pockets on the sides.

Kate made a joke about those pockets while they were packing up, asking what on earth she might find out there that would require so much storage space on top of her backpack. But then Juliet had told her to wait while she stuck a hand into one of them, letting out a delighted gasp when she realized it still held one of the seashells she’d collected the last time she’d worn those shorts on a visit to Miami.

She’d beamed like a little kid offering it up in her outstretched hand—an iridescent spiraling conch, about half the size of her palm. It was the same shade of pink as her lips, so Kate accepted it carefully and clutched it like a baby bird before kissing her, pressing her against the truck. She’d tasted like sunscreen, which had prompted another joke.

One-and-a-half Springsteen tapes later, the highway gave way to an unpaved mountain access road. Juliet complained about all the jostling as she tucked her book back in her bag.

“Just a couple miles on this,” promised Kate, her voice jumping up and down when she hit a pothole.

Juliet laughed, then repeated a line she’d just read in her book, mostly for the sake of hearing the effect of the bumpy road on the beat of her own voice. In doing so, she made herself laugh again.

That was, by Kate’s count, the fourth time that morning that she’d almost told Juliet she loved her.

First there’d been the stretched out, croaky way she’d said “Good morning,” when she’d popped up from beneath the covers with her hair all messy.

Then there was the shell she’d found in her pocket.

Then in the drive-thru line to get their coffee, she’d begged Kate to order for her—a full and proper begging, with her hands clasped and her eyes big like saucers—and Kate pretended like she wasn’t going to, right up until the last second. The sigh of relief beside her had been so earnest that she almost announced her feelings not only to Juliet, but to the unwitting cashier speaking to her through the menu microphone.

So, yes—that put Juliet triggering her own laughter by way of the dirt road at number four. Maybe at the waterfall, Kate would find opportunity number five. Maybe that one would be the charm.

The parking lot at the trailhead was nearly empty, occupied only by two other passenger cars plus a truck owned by the forest maintenance service that was always there. Mist hung low, curling midway up the tree trunks, and the air aground was similarly damp and close. A promise of the rain which had driven them there and others away in the first place, and it seemed one the mountains were intent on keeping.

It was hot for mid-June, a good day to make use of an uncrowded, early-season spot. The swimming hole—a clear and deep section of the river, which was fed by the waterfall and wound on down the mountain—likely to be frigid. The waterfall itself, surely whatever temperature fell beyond that.

Being well aware of Juliet’s relative indoorsy, inathletic tendencies, Kate set them off on the shortest of the available trails. They would skip over one of the lookout spots she liked as a result, but in all likelihood it would be too cloudy to see much from it, anyway.

That trail began with crossing the same river they would swim in further uphill, with their pick of route between a makeshift wooden bridge and naturally-occurring stepping stones—a couple of them requiring something close to a leap to span.

Juliet went for the bridge, and Kate for the stones.

“You know, there’s a Stephen King book that starts out like this,” called Juliet from the far side of the bridge while Kate sized up her last and largest leap.

“The book you’re reading?”

“No, I’m reading Misery. That starts with a car crash.”

“You’ve got one for everything, don’t you?” Kate teased, throwing her a grin as she landed on the riverbank. “Even the hotel where your cousin got married.”

“The bellhop told us they had a haunted room—he was the one who mentioned the Overlook!”

Kate made her way over to where Juliet waited on the trail with several squelching steps through the mud surrounding both sides of the river—one of the last remaining signs of the torrential springtime melt. “How do I know you didn’t pay him to bring it up?”

“Why would I do something like that?” said Juliet with her hands on her hips.

“Because it gave you an excuse to recount the whole plot of that book every time a floorboard creaked.”

“You know ‘that book’ is The Shining—we watched the movie.”

She grabbed onto Juliet’s hand, swinging it back and forth as she tugged her along. “I don’t think I paid very good attention to that one.”

At first it was a relief when the trail began stretching into a steep and rocky incline, if only because it meant they could leave the mud behind and cease having to pry their shoes out of the earth with every step they took.

Normally Juliet was difficult for Kate to keep up with while they ran or walked—despite her relative lack of athleticism, her long gait gave her a distinct advantage there—but on a trail like that one Kate often found it quickest to crouch low and use both her hands and feet to scamper upwards, and Juliet’s limbs and spine all bent too stiffly to be suited for such a strategy.

It wasn’t much of a surprise when it turned out Juliet didn’t take to being waited for any better than she did being mistaken. Whenever Kate would get ahead of her, she’d realize the distance put between them and wait for Juliet to catch up. Like the two of them made up an accordion.

Each time Juliet did catch up, Kate tried to stay put so she would know she was allowed to take a break, too, but she always brushed her off to keep plodding on. Exasperation seemed to work itself deeper into her steps at each juncture.

“Do you and your dad really hunt here?” huffed Juliet from midway up the latest rocky pitch, her voice uneven with exertion. She paused and looked back as one of the stones beneath her feet got dislodged, tumbling down the mountain behind her. “The deer must hear you coming from a mile away.”

Kate laughed as she took a sip of water. “Oh, no way—you’re not even allowed to. We go further north for that.”

When she reached Kate’s resting place Juliet shed her blouse, making do with her one-piece bathing suit as a top. Kate put away her water bottle and hooked her thumbs into the straps of her backpack, once again pointedly not moving, other than rocking back and forth slightly on her heels.

But Juliet just swiped a quick gulp from her water bottle and started stalking ahead, waving a hand in the air the second Kate began to protest.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I was just getting hot. And we’re almost there, right?”

Kate rolled her eyes at her back. “Yeah, maybe another half-mile.”

They soon heard the start of a distant roaring, and when they reached the waterfall the area was just as empty as the parking lot had been. For a moment they stared at each other, unable to believe their luck.

Juliet shrieked when she first dipped her toe into the river, but once Kate dove in unbridled she followed suit, dunking her head quickly before she sprung up and wrapped her arms around herself. She stayed in place for a minute or two, then gave in to go lounge on her towel near where they’d left their clothes. Despite no objections from Kate, she proclaimed loudly that she’d at least tried to withstand the cold.

Her eyes were bright, cheeks pink, and teeth chattering through the smile she shot Kate’s way when she looked over her shoulder, en route to the rope swing on the opposite bank. Normally, she had to wait in a line that snaked around, sometimes stretching back down the trail.

Three planks were nailed into the trunk of the tree housing the swing, and Kate had been jumping off at least the top-most plank for as long as she could remember. More recently, her typical goal was to climb beyond it, and stretch her arm out to retrieve the rope from one of the branches further up. Then she could plunge into the pool from ten, fifteen, even twenty feet above the surface—she wished she could know exactly how long the drop was, but at least she had the branches there to count.

Last time she came there with her dad, she’d gotten as high as the second branch. So after a few warmup swings from the top plank and the first branch, she shimmied right past it to the third. She had to reach with the full length of both arms to get the rope, fingers clinging to a small handhold in the bark behind her.

The precarity of that position was enough to move Juliet from lounging to alert.

“Kate, that’s way too high!” she yelled with her eyes wide, kneeling up with her hands pressed into the tops of her thighs. She gave another shriek when Kate jumped off the branch, sticking out her tongue at Juliet as she did.

The rope brought her in a long arc that she ended with a dramatic cannonball, and when she surfaced Juliet was wiping the remnants of the splash from her eyes. Kate paddled lazily and victoriously over to her and pushed herself up to sit on the bank, leaning close enough to Juliet to drip all over her.

“I just dried off,” she complained.

“It’s gonna rain, anyway,” said Kate as she kissed her, and despite her objection Juliet didn’t move back.

In fact she deepened the kiss almost immediately, her lips molding around Kate’s—white-hot compared to the chill from the water. Parting to make way for her tongue as she hooked both arms around Kate’s shoulders and pulled her in tight, letting out a sigh that whistled through her nose.

As Kate realized chance number five was right in front of her, she felt her heart start drumming faster. Already she was admiring the beauty of the moment from afar, like an imminent memory.

But her earlier words worked like magic, and the leaves above them began to whisper under a drizzle. Juliet let go and hurried away to stash her book in her bag. They managed to dress just in time for the whisper to pick up into a steady patter that broke through the tree cover.

The rocks on the steeper section of the trail had gone from a nuisance to treacherous, and moving downhill transformed Juliet’s stride into a speed advantage once more. Kate yelled ahead to her to be careful several times while she did her best to keep up, only backing off when Juliet made a not-quite-joking comeback about her conduct on the rope swing. With some other details evidencing Kate’s recklessness peppered in, including her propensity to forgo her bike helmet or seat belt at times.

For some reason the reminder of Juliet being the generally more knowledgeable, prepared, and responsible one between the two of them angered Kate that day. Usually she felt grateful at the idea of having her around to point those things out and care whether or not she was safe, even if there was often a layer of annoyance in the midst of her gratitude.

She thought about referencing the wilderness safety class she and her dad had taken several summers prior, before they went on a week-long backpacking trip together. He knew that stuff backwards and forwards, but had said it was important for them both to be ready since you never knew what was going to happen out there.

But too long a silence had passed since Juliet had gotten in the last word, and bringing the argument back up just to point out that the Red Cross agreed with the general principle of gravity (which Juliet had to be well-versed in, since she’d handily placed out of her college’s freshman year physics course) felt too petulant to prove the point of Kate’s responsibility.

So she stewed, and slowed her pace a little, and by the time they were back at the car she’d be plenty furious at herself for doing both those things. Above all, she’d be wishing desperately that she’d never touched the rope swing, since maybe abstaining would’ve made her a more reliable messenger.

That was always how those things went, though: something bad happened, and suddenly every choice she’d made was the wrong one.

Her shoe came untied, and she stopped to tie it.

A chipmunk ran across the trail, and she let her eyes follow him as he ran into a hole at the base of a tree.

She imagined what a chipmunk might do to get dry and warm up after coming in from the rain.

Then she realized idly she’d lost sight of Juliet, and felt her anger soften as the typical longing to be near her took it over once more.

Just as idly she hoped she hadn’t gotten too far ahead, since it would be difficult already to catch up to her without actually running down the mountain.

Another thing that happened almost like magic—the bad kind—just as soon as she thought about it.

A shrill cry rang out through the trees, in the general direction of downhill. Maybe a little to the east, the same way the path went around a sharp bend. It was a harsh and chilling sound, but it didn’t cut Kate to the bone nearly as much as the quiet that followed it.

“Juliet?” she called uncertainly. More bone-cutting quiet in response, swelling to fill the space between the trees. She tried again, her voice having lost some of its strength.

When no reply came to the second attempt, Kate swore under her breath and let her legs tumble ahead of her. Trying like hell not to countenance any of the worst-case scenarios flying through her head.

She had to be getting toward the end of the rocky section of the trail, at least—so she hoped as she almost wiped out for the third or fourth time. Then wondered if Juliet had thought the same thing, when she finally caught sight of her.

The position she was in didn’t do Kate’s head any favors. Limp on her side in the mud below that last incline. Her legs splayed out awkwardly, her pack dropped a few feet uphill. It was almost a relief to absorb the out-of-place bone jutting atop her shoulder joint, though at that sight Kate barreled forward with all fear of falling herself long forgotten.

She dropped to her knees in the mud, hands hovering, eyes trying to drink in as many details as they could before she dared touch her. Nothing looked out of place apart from her shoulder—no blood, no sickening stillness in her throat and chest—but it could be hard to tell. She wished so badly she’d been there when it happened, that even if she hadn’t been able to stop it she would know if she’d hit her head, or at least how far she’d fallen.

Her eyes were closed, and her name clung fast to the tip of Kate’s tongue. She was afraid to speak it aloud, and chance finding out that she was unconscious.

Juliet’s huge eyes flew open then, and saved her the trouble.

“I tripped,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “I wasn’t looking, I was trying to get my water out. And the ground just kept going.”

Kate furrowed her brow and nodded. Then Juliet’s teeth started chattering, more rapidly and forcefully than they had due to the river’s cold. The sound made Kate reel back on her heels.

She wished her dad were there. She wished she and Juliet were somewhere else. She wished the parking lot was as crowded as it usually was. And all the while Juliet’s teeth kept clicking together, her eyes staying wide and frightened.

With a deep breath Kate told herself to count to five, thinking back to when she’d go to Jack’s basketball games and watch him silently mouth the numbers whenever he went to the free throw line. A steady bounce of the ball for each one.

At first she was sure the method wouldn’t transfer, that this was too dire a circumstance for something so simple. But by the end of the count she did feel her heart settling down, and her hands growing more sure as she took Juliet’s uninjured hand.

“Did you hit your head?” she asked urgently.

“No,” she said, giving it a small shake. “I went sideways…”

She turned, and when her eyes fell on the knob above her shoulder she squeezed them shut for a long moment, screwing up her mouth as if to meet them in the center of her face. Her breathing turned shallow.

“God, it really hurts,” she hissed. Then she started crying, clearly trying to contain the instinctive shaking of her shoulders anywhere but there. It all seemed to collect further in her teeth.

Kate stayed put, and worked to keep breathing in the same cadence as the basketball bouncing on the gym floor. She didn’t feel afraid anymore, but Juliet’s pain roiled in her stomach.

“If your head and legs are okay, I think you can make it to the car,” said Kate. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

“You can pop it back in,” said Juliet in a sudden, deliberate rush, like the idea had taken possession over her. “Just grab my other hand and pull as hard as you can.”

Kate shook her head hard. “No, the Red Cross said you don’t do that. I could make it worse.”

“Please, Kate,” she whimpered, her tears picking up along with the pace of her breathing. She sounded like she was on the edge of hyperventilating. “I don’t care—they can fix it later.”

“Well I care. Come on, I’ll help you up, okay?”

She grimaced, but sniffled and nodded with a big, gasping breath. Slowly she sat up, gripping tight enough to Kate’s hand to turn her knuckles white and crush together the fingers within them.

“Good, that’s really good,” said Kate gently, barely registering the pain in her hand. “Now take a break for a minute.”

The whole side of Juliet’s face was caked in mud, so Kate pulled out the towel from her bag to clean off the worst of it. Staring as she went. Listening to the rain above them, thinking about how lovely and blue her eyes were. 

Fine beads of moisture were collecting on her forehead like dew on the leaves, and they streaked into the dirt as Kate massaged the towel against her cheek and temple.

“There’s no point,” Juliet said with a sigh and another sniffle. “I’m covered in mud—I’m going to get your car so dirty.”

Kate smiled. “Don’t you wanna look presentable, in case your doctor’s cute?”

“I already have a cute doctor,” she said, smiling back.

“Ha ha.” Kate rolled her eyes and stuffed the towel back in her bag. “Okay, you ready? You’re making jokes, which is probably a good sign.”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. Kate slung both packs onto her back and stood up, extending a hand and wiggling her fingers like Juliet often did. With a deep breath she took it and let herself be pulled to her feet, clinging only harder to Kate’s hand and arm once she was up.

The trailhead was a bit further away than Kate had thought, but Juliet didn’t complain. They made gummy progress through the mud, and both took the wooden bridge back across the river.

Kate thought about asking her if that Stephen King book she’d referenced had any other similarities to their current situation. When she turned to look at Juliet though, her face was too pale and grave for such a conversation topic to seem a wise idea.

So instead she clung back to her just as hard, and held back tears as she pressed her lips to as clean a spot as she could find on her good shoulder. Chin bumping into her as she strode, knocking her own teeth together.

Again she was thinking—really, knowing—how much she loved her, but bringing that up didn’t feel any better than bringing up Stephen King.

Kate tried to tell herself the same sort of thing as she had the night before, that she’d have another chance. Her certainty felt weakened some, though, by the memory of Juliet’s scream. And the vision of her lying in the mud, battered and still with her bones in the wrong places.

She’d never understood why Juliet liked reading such scary stories, when the real world had so much of its own horror to offer.

Chapter 6: Five

Then:

Every ridge and divot in the unpaved access road seemed to be taunting Juliet in exchange for her earlier amusement. Kate tried to go slowly, and swerve to avoid the worst of it. But they were futile attempts at best, and at each one that failed she apologized weakly, flinching whenever Juliet pinned her arm tighter against her chest.

No third Springsteen tape made it into the deck, and apart from Kate’s apologies they both stayed quiet—the most prominent sounds in the cab were the rhythmic squeaking windshield wipers and the rattling fan whose settings Kate kept toying with.

Clearing the windows of fog was just as much of a challenge as avoiding the minefield of bumps in the road, and she let out a long, appreciative sigh when they finally made it back onto the highway and could have only the windows to worry about.

Still that task occupied so much of her focus that she almost jumped out of her skin when Juliet spoke for first time since they’d left the parking lot. Mostly she’d been sitting as still as possible with her jaw clenched tight, pulling slow breaths in through her nose.

“This is the second time it’s happened,” she said, staring straight ahead. “Last time was in Miami, when I was seven—me and Rachel were at the park with our babysitter. Rachel was on the monkey bars, and I wanted to try, too. But I started falling, and I didn’t want to let go. You’re supposed to, though. You’re supposed to let yourself fall.”

She chewed on her lip as her eyes flashed to her shoulder, only staying a moment before they resumed their focus on the road.

“You probably know that. I bet you were good at the monkey bars.”

“Well, I don’t want to brag or anything,” said Kate, glad to see the ghost of a smile grace Juliet’s face for a moment before she went back to chewing on her lip.

“Our babysitter was like, inconsolable. And my shoulder didn’t even look gross like it does now, I was just crying a lot and she was always afraid of getting in trouble with our mom. Rachel did double-duty, comforting both of us. Then at the doctor’s, they said it was one of those things that’d be more likely to happen again, since it’d happened once.” She sighed. “I guess they were telling the truth.”

Kate nodded, then spotted a sign indicating a medical center would be accessible by the next exit. She flipped on the turn signal, but when she did Juliet reached across herself and the center console with her right hand to grip her by the forearm.

“Not here,” she said. “Let’s go to the ER back home.”

“We’re still over an hour away. It hurts so bad that you wanted me to fix you up, and now you’re being picky?”

“If we stop now they’ll call my dad, and he’ll have to drive all the way up here.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Juliet let go of her arm and didn’t argue anything more, but Kate sighed and flipped off the turn signal just before the exit passed them by.

Some muscle memory arose in Kate once they’d parked and hurried through the rain into their local hospital as requested, leading them right to the front desk. She’d paid that ER a handful of visits over the years, between her own playground injuries and times she was younger, when Diane had to tote her along while she got a sprained wrist or black eye tended. (At least tended as well as could be expected, though her bald-faced lie of how she’d sustained the injury in the first place.)

They checked in and settled into a couple of the blocky vinyl chairs in the lobby, and didn’t wait nearly as long to be called back as Kate recalled waiting in the past. She told herself she could be misremembering, but based on the way Juliet’s nurse spoke as she guided them into a small, curtained alcove, it didn’t seem outside the realm of reason that she was getting special treatment.

More beloved town-doctor perks, Kate thought with something close to disdain. Followed by a quick stab of guilt, then she was right back to staring worriedly at Juliet as she struggled up onto the cushioned, paper-covered bed, denying any help offered by the nurse or by Kate.

Special treatment or not, they did have to wait another hour after the nurse took Juliet’s vitals, all for a doctor who didn’t want to reset the joint until they took some scans. More waiting for someone to bring her to get those done, then more waiting for Kate in the hard plastic chair beside the empty exam bed after she’d gone.

It was good they had the paper down, she thought as she fiddled with the hem of her shorts—the muddy imprint of Juliet’s figure lingered there like a crude chalk outline drawn on pavement at a crime scene.

That idea launched Kate’s stomach into her throat, and without thinking she bolted up and tore off the dirty section of paper, then tugged at the spool of it to cover the exam bed once more. She pulled a little too hard, though, and it all started unraveling.

Dr. Carlson and Rachel appeared while she was in the middle of a fruitless attempt to feed the excess roll back onto the spool. Based on the teasing, almost satisfied look on Rachel’s face, they might have heard the crinkling paper well before they pushed aside the curtain.

“Oh—they’ll send someone to do that, Kate,” said Dr. Carlson. “Don’t worry about it.”

She felt her cheeks get hot as she mumbled a thin excuse, dropping the section in her hands before stepping over the pile crumpled on the floor.

The two of them had been intercepted by someone with more recent information than Kate was privy to—in addition to the dislocation, Juliet had torn a ligament badly enough to require surgical repair, which had already been scheduled for first thing the next morning.

She’d been admitted to the hospital so they could keep her overnight for observation—despite no signs of head injury in the imaging that’d been taken, Juliet hadn’t been determined the most reliable narrator of exactly how she’d fallen. Better safe than sorry, or so Dr. Carlson quipped.

In exchange for the update Kate relayed to them what had happened, proud of herself for swallowing down the tears that appeared along with the memory of Juliet lying in the mud. She chose not to share that exact detail in her storytelling, nor the sound of her scream.

With the assistance of the doctor who’d sent Juliet off for imaging, Dr. Carlson led them through several hallways and up two floors to the orthopedic surgical wing where Juliet had a room to herself. The view out the wide window facing the adjacent meadows was still gray and hazy, but sure to turn idyllic whenever things cleared up.

Her arm was in a sling, the bone worked back into its usual place. She seemed too alert to have been given anything particularly strong in the way of pain medication, and Kate fought not to imagine how the manipulation of the joint had felt without it.

Dr. Carlson and Rachel rushed to flank each side of the inclined bed, trading off between smoothing back Juliet’s hair and tucking in the blankets around her ever tighter. Both speaking softly to her as they went, telling her how strong and brave she was. Kate couldn’t tear her eyes away, but felt herself drifting closer and closer to the wall.

Part of her wished she could disappear through it into the next room, because again the ugly feeling of disdain was mounting and she wanted it gone.

None of the injuries Kate had taken a trip to that ER over had required admission to the hospital, let alone surgery. So maybe she hadn’t earned being fussed over like that; maybe it would’ve been excessive. In any case, she’d only ever known her dad’s gruff, “rub-some-dirt-on-it” halfway-kindness and her mom’s typical absent flavor of maternal grief, which always seemed targeted less at Kate’s present pain and suffering than the general idea that she’d ever been born, and lived long enough for Diane to be subject to witnessing her endure anything at all.

Not once had she wished for someone to attend to her the way Rachel and Dr. Carlson were to Juliet, and she realized then that she’d never quite thought that such a thing were possible.

Another doctor entered the room with a stack of papers in a clipboard. He was older, with messy hair, and seemed like he was in a rush. Quickly he recounted the now-familiar plan of overnight observation and early-morning surgery, then handed Juliet the clipboard while he noted all the risks involved.

The specific consequences grew more dire as he went, though he kept speaking in the same rushed, casual tone. Counting off various routes to debility and death on his fingers like he was making a grocery list.

Juliet looked to her dad with concern etched into her face, and he assured her in a hushed aside that none of those things were likely to occur. She nodded firmly, but Kate saw her hand shake as she scribbled down her signature in all the places the doctor pointed out.

After she’d handed him the paperwork, he motioned to Dr. Carlson to speak about some other matter in the hallway.

Rachel sighed and collapsed onto the bench beneath the window. She eyed Kate with a strange expression on her face, nodding toward Juliet.

“Maybe I’ll go get some water,” said Rachel before giving another, more pointed sigh. “They’ll probably kick you out when visiting hours end, Kate. Just saying.”

As soon as the door shut behind her Juliet’s brow furrowed a little, and Kate took leaden steps away from the wall she’d been glued to, pushing off it with her hands as if to propel herself forward.

Once she was within reach Juliet feebly extended her unslung arm to touch her cheek and tuck back a loose curl dangling in front of her ear.

“I wish you could stay here tonight,” she said, in a quiet, wobbly voice.

The tears Kate had been able to stave off before came back in full force, and all she could manage in response was a terse nod. Juliet seemed so small tucked into that bed. But she smiled in spite of her smallness, and removed a corner of the tucked-in blanket to dab at Kate’s face.

At that Kate folded on top of her, face pressed into her stomach below the sling.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I made us go hiking, and now your whole summer's ruined.”

Juliet made a shushing noise as she laid her hand on the back of Kate’s head, scratching her fingers lightly against her scalp. “I’ll be good as new in a few weeks,” she said. “And anyway, it was worth it.”

Kate looked up with her face scrunched together. “How?”

She smiled and grabbed her hand, pressing it against her face. “You beat your record on the rope swing.”

“No way that was worth it,” Kate laughed, her phlegmy throat turning it into a cough.

Juliet shook her head. “You looked so free. Like you were flying.”

She closed her eyes tightly, like she was working to burn the moment into her brain just as hard as Kate was working to rid her own brain of the memory of Juliet in the mud. Hopefully finding better luck with the attempt than Kate had so far with hers, she mused sadly.

The sound of the voices in the hallway shifted into a cadence that sounded like parting words, so Kate hurried to wipe away her remaining tears before she kissed Juliet, two hands cradling her face like she was something breakable. When they pulled apart she gave her another fast peck on the lips, then one each on her nose and forehead. Juliet beamed beneath them, and started to say something. But the door clicked open then, and she clamped her mouth shut.

Kate straightened abruptly, clearing her throat. Thankfully it was only Dr. Carlson and Rachel who entered, Rachel having returned with several bottles of water as well as a plethora of vending machine snacks.

“I’m going to finish up some work,” said Dr. Carlson. “Kate, you can stay until five, but please don’t feel like you have to. Rachel will keep Jules company until I get back.”

“Maybe you could feel like you have to a little bit,” said Rachel. “I think we’ll need some help with all this food.”

“I can stay,” said Kate quickly. Dr. Carlson smiled at her before leaning down to give Juliet a tight hug, saying something in her ear that made her nod and sniffle.

As soon as he’d left Rachel reclined on the bench by the window and clicked on the TV on the wall, kicking her feet up on the wooden armrest as she opened a bag of chips.

“Alright, we don’t have a lot of options,” she said. “There’s the weather channel—lemme guess… it’s raining! Or a Dateline marathon, or Friends reruns.”

“Friends,” said Kate and Juliet in tandem.

“Can I have the Oreos?” said Juliet as Rachel changed the channel.

Rachel tossed them her way before almost reflexively handing Kate a candy bar, who in turn felt a brief clutching sensation in her chest realizing Rachel must have remembered it was her favorite.

Juliet scooted over enough for Kate to climb in the bed beside her. She happily obliged, resting her head on Juliet’s good shoulder and cherishing the way she got jostled every time she laughed.

They made it through two and a half episodes before a nurse poked his head in to tell Kate it was family only from there on out. She nodded, and was glad when he didn’t stick around to make sure she left right away, since it gave them time to finish the episode and for her to get jostled a few more times by Juliet’s laughter.

No additional kiss goodbye came at the end credits—just staring silently at each other with sad smiles on their faces. Kate held back more tears the whole walk out to the parking lot, and they spilled over once she got in her truck and saw how much mud there was in the passenger’s seat.

It’d felt too dangerous, telling Juliet she loved her right before she embarked on a venture that necessitated signing her name below such a scary list of outcomes. But now that they’d parted, Kate couldn’t believe she hadn’t. She had half a mind to run back inside and yell it through the hallways and stairwells for all Juliet’s doctors to hear: Don’t hurt her, please don’t hurt her; don’t you know how much I love her?

Instead she rested her head against the steering wheel and tried to wait out her sobbing, until it became clear that she could be in the parking lot for a good long while. And if Juliet were there, she’d tell Kate to go home already—get some real food, get some rest. So she decided she would.

Having only to make the short drive to her mom’s through her blurry, jumpy vision made her grateful to be staying there for once, as did the fact that neither she nor Wayne said a thing about it when Kate shut herself up in her room for the rest of the evening.

Through the late, dark quiet she emerged to sneak some leftovers from the kitchen, though once she was back in her room she couldn’t bear to eat. She tried, and failed, and in her head relented an apology to Juliet as she returned the plate to the fridge. Then kept her apologies going for awhile, as she tossed and turned long into the night.

Come morning, she was jolted awake from a brief spat of sleep by the buzzing of her phone on her nightstand. She peeked over—Rachel calling. Nearly nine. The surgery had been scheduled for six.

Immediately she grabbed it and held it in front of her, but hesitated to pick up the call. Most likely everything was over and had gone well, and Rachel was just calling to let her know. But in her fits and starts of unrestful rest, Kate had dreamt of worst-case scenarios both new and old. Still they felt so present. If she didn’t pick up the phone, she couldn’t hear any bad news Rachel had to share.

She waited too long, and the phone went quiet. With the threat of potential bad news gone she realized how badly she wanted to hear the potential good news, and hurried to call her back. Before she could finish dialing, the phone started buzzing again.

So quickly did she pick it up that Rachel’s voice came through sounding shocked, like she’d been planning on leaving a voicemail instead of speaking to a human.

“Hey—sorry if you were asleep. Just wanted to let you know we’re on our way home, and they put Jules’ shoulder all back together again—”

“Like Humpty Dumpty!” came Juliet’s thick and giggly voice in the background, and the sound made Kate’s tears start up once more. She sat against the wall and hunched over with her forehead resting in her palm, making sounds that fell midway between weeping and laughing.

“Yep, totally,” Rachel said, muffled like she’d turned away from the phone. Kate could practically hear her rolling her eyes in the amused scoff that came back through at full volume. “This is the genius in the family? I swear to god… anyway, no rush—I know it’s early. But Jules has already asked to see you, like, a hundred times, so if you wanna come over it would be a huge help to all of us. Mostly me, because I’m sick of hearing about you. We’ve got big plans to eat ice cream for breakfast and watch all the Star Wars movies—”

“No, Lord of the Rings!” Juliet interrupted.

“Jesus, again?” said Rachel, followed by a long sigh in which Kate could practically hear the puppy-dog eagerness that was surely brightening Juliet’s face. “Fine, Lord of the Rings.”

Kate had rocketed out of her bed the second the words “come over” left Rachel’s mouth, and she pinched the phone between her ear and shoulder while she tossed a change of clothes and her spare toothbrush into a duffel bag. Warm, bright sun was streaming in her window, all the previous day's torrent burned right out of the atmosphere.

“I’ll be right there,” she said, barely processing the rest of whatever Rachel said until they bid each other goodbye.

The trailer was already empty, apart from the beer cans Wayne had left littered around the couch and coffee table. Normally she would gather them up to take straight to the park’s communal recycling center, with a futile hope of stemming the stale scent permeating the small living space. But that day, she left them be. With any luck she’d be able to stay with Juliet until the end of the week when she was due back with her dad, anyway.

She made the short drive in record time, and called out a hello as she let herself in the back door.

“In here!” came Rachel’s voice in response, which wasn’t a particularly helpful direction.

Usually they watched movies in the basement, but she sounded closer than that. Kate dropped her bag by the door and wandered around until she heard the harsh sound of static coming from the parlor—a typically unused room off the wide front foyer. It was empty of furnishings apart from several overlapping Persian rugs covering the floor, a high-tech sound system encased in a built-in cabinet, and an overstuffed, tattered sofa that Dr. Carlson claimed was older than he was.

It was the place Kate and Juliet had used as an outlet for many a sleepover-induced sugar high in their younger years, since it was the only room other than the basement far enough away from the upstairs bedrooms to let them blast music without disturbing anyone. Its emptiness also made it a good room for dancing with abandon, and pushing themselves off two opposite walls to run as fast as they could before colliding in the middle. Dissolving into giggles as they ricocheted down onto the soft and cushiony rugs, flat on their backs with their chests heaving.

Rachel was fiddling with the sound system, reworking it to support a television brought in from another room. The couch had been dragged out from the corner and draped over with two big quilts, which mostly hid the state of the fraying fabric underneath.

Juliet sat smack in the middle, another quilt partially folded beside her with the loose end covering only half of one leg. (It was June, after all, and the Carlsons’ house was far too ancient to support anything in the way of efficient air conditioning.)

There was a drooping, dopey softness in her eyes and mouth—they must have finally given her some of the good drugs. Hair done up in two braids with Rachel’s signature pattern, and the top of her matching pajama set wasn’t too unlike the blouse she’d worn to hike the day before. In her free hand she held a tall tumbler of juice, outfitted with one of those straws that made loop-de-loops like a rollercoaster.

A languid smile crawled onto her face when Kate appeared in the doorway, and Kate thought she might be the most beautiful she’d ever seen her.

“Oh, good,” said Rachel. “I’m almost done—I’m ninety-percent sure this is the right cable.”

“You said that about the last one,” said Juliet with her eyes locked on Kate, who’d gotten captured by a timid reluctance similar to what she’d felt in the hospital, but absent any trace of disdain.

Mostly, she just wanted to keep staring at Juliet until the visions which had plagued her dreams got replaced for good.

The television quieted as it changed over from static to the DVD piracy warning, and Rachel threw Juliet a smug glance before her head whipped toward the door.

“I guess I’ll go get the ice cream,” she said exasperatedly, pushing herself to her feet and past Kate into the hallway.

For one, two, maybe three more moments Kate hovered in place, then Juliet ducked her head. Seeming almost apologetic, and that was enough to snap her out of it. She threw herself onto the couch beside her and buried her face in her neck, giving her just enough time to set the juice down on the floor before it got knocked all over them.

“Can you stay?” Juliet said into her hair. A strange, high catch in her voice, almost apologetic again.

Kate nodded eagerly and wrapped her arms around her waist, keeping them low so she wouldn’t disturb the sling or her shoulder. Squeezing as tight as she could.

“I feel like I didn’t sleep at all last night,” said Juliet, her voice strained from the effect of Kate’s grip. A yawn escaped through it, as if to emphasize her point. “I thought getting knocked out for the surgery might help, but it was over so quick.”

“I don’t think that’s how surgery works, anyway,” said Kate with a laugh.

“Well it should,” she huffed. “That anesthesia must have cost thousands of dollars—I should’ve woken up feeling like I’d slept for three days straight.”

Kate unwound her arms and creased back into place the collar of Juliet’s top she’d disrupted.

“I didn’t sleep much, either,” she said as she smoothed down the fabric, letting her hand rest on the soft skin underneath. Juliet was still wearing her new necklace, and Kate traced the delicate silver chain as she shyly met her eyes.

Juliet patted her lap, tugging the quilt over her uncovered thigh and bunching it up like a pillow. Kate shifted, and rested her head there. Facing the television at first, then she flipped onto her back. With her eyes as wide as she could get them through whatever cocktail she was on Juliet gazed down at her, playing clumsily with the ends of her hair.

Already Kate could feel her own breathing evening out, and somewhat involuntarily peeled back one of the quilts atop the couch to cover herself with. She felt safe and cared for, so much so that she couldn’t manage to feel any guilt for letting Juliet make her feel that way when she was the injured one.

The movie started, and the voices warbled into her head like gibberish. Sleep was wrapping around to claim her, and the only words that could’ve reached through the fog were the ones Juliet murmured as she bent down awkwardly over the sling and pressed her lips to Kate’s forehead.

“I love you so much.”

She came close to sitting up right away and knocking her upside the chin, but managed to catch herself. Then she started laughing, and Juliet jerked backwards as her expression turned somewhere between fearful and perplexed. Kate tried as hard as she could to swallow down the laughter, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Seriously? I’ve been trying to tell you that I love you for weeks,” she said, and the surprised delight that washed away Juliet’s fear made her feel warm and squishy inside. “God, of course you beat me to it.”

“Really?” said Juliet as her mouth stretched into a grin. Kate nodded as she sat up and kissed her, and just then Rachel returned with three heaping bowls of ice cream in her arms.

She startled back, embarrassed, but Rachel snorted as she handed them each a bowl.

“Don’t mind me, I’ll be gone in a flash. I haven’t been home a month yet and I’ve already seen these three times—I’d rather stare at the wall.”

They settled back into the couch with their shoulders pressed close together, and after the ice cream was gone, Juliet’s head drifted almost immediately onto Kate’s shoulder. She was asleep within minutes, and it wasn’t long before Kate joined her with her cheek pressed into Juliet’s crown.

She did stay all week, right up until it was time to go to her dad’s. They watched movie after movie during the day, and instead of sleeping in Juliet’s bed at night, they curled up on that small and tattered couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable spot, and both Rachel and Dr. Carlson tried to convince Juliet she might recover more quickly if she slept elsewhere.

But it was where they’d finally said they loved each other, and neither of them was in any hurry to leave that moment behind.

Chapter 7: Six

Notes:

Things have been kind of heavy lately, so here's some smut! :)

Now:

The pizza place didn’t open until five, so they decided to start with Chinese and do their double order in stages. That also let them use their so-called prudence as an excuse to order enough dishes for several people, which Juliet claimed was wise anyway—most restaurants would be shut down for the night well before their 'day' was done.

“If New York is the city that never sleeps, this is the city that hits snooze on the alarm about fifteen times,” she said with the receiver of the ringing phone bent away from her mouth, pointing out the midnight closure time on the menu flier of the place they were ordering from.

Access to leftovers throughout the night would be crucial, too, since Juliet’s fridge was poorly stocked—over half of its contents were made up of condiments and cans of seltzer water. From the familiar conversation she had with whoever took her call at the restaurant, it seemed like such orders were a frequent habit of hers.

Once they'd finished part one of their feast, Kate grabbed a fortune cookie from the center of the table. She leaned back in her chair and lifted up one foot on the seat, hooking an elbow around her knee.

“Let’s see…” she said in a sing-song voice as she cracked it open. She crunched on one half of the shell and pinched out the narrow slip of paper from the other.

“What’s it say?” asked Juliet impatiently. She popped the last bite of a spring roll into her mouth and licked the tips of her fingers, blushing deliciously when Kate smirked at her.

But her smirk was motivated only halfway by the finger-licking. (Well, maybe three-quarters.)

“It’s blank.”

“It is not,” said Juliet as she grabbed it from her. Right away her eyes landed on the tiny red script, and she rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Liar! ‘The weather outside is wonderful.’” She scoffed again. “Great, they’re liars, too. I seriously can’t remember the last time I saw the sun.”

“You don’t think that’s ‘cause you’re basically nocturnal?”

“You’re one to talk,” she murmured, a corner of her mouth twitching.

Kate held up her hands. “I’m following your lead. If you want to stay up all night and all day to switch back, I’m game.”

She wrinkled her nose and crumpled up the fortune. “By the time we do I’ll just have to stay up all day and night again to readjust for my next shift. Not worth it.”

“Then I guess we’re gonna miss out on the sun some more.”

Juliet's eyes were luminous, making Kate want to eat her words.

She hurried to clear her throat as she felt her jaw start to drop, hoping if it did she could play it off as a cough. “So, what do you do all night? Superhero stuff?”

“Not usually,” said Juliet in a flat and somber voice. Then she sighed and worked her jaw back and forth. “I don’t know, hang out? The same things I’d do on a day off, I guess. Read, or watch TV. Do laundry.”

“Laundry?” complained Kate with a groan.

“I just did some the other day, so you’re in luck. I did get halfway through a movie last night.”

“Oh yeah, let’s finish it.”

Juliet eyed her warily, likely due to the way her face had lit up. “I’d like to, like, actually finish it.”

“Sounds great,” said Kate as she stood to put away the dishes and the remaining food. Then she followed right behind Juliet on her way to the living room, giving her hair a quick sniff and pinching her by the waist. She whipped her head around, clearly trying to hold back a smile.

While Juliet adjusted the television inputs Kate veered off to the couch, grabbing the throw blanket she’d used earlier from the floor. She pulled it up to her chin and watched Juliet where she worked; she was bent at an angle that revealed most of the soft lines of her body, even beneath her loose shirt and drawstring flannel pants.

Kate tucked the bottom half of her face under the edge of the blanket, already feeling the pace of her breathing kick up a notch. She swore as well that she felt her eyes dilate when Juliet turned down the lights and trotted over to the couch, plopping onto it with enough force to launch her in the air an inch or two.

The throw fell from her face as a startled giggle escaped her, and Juliet took the opportunity to tug most of it her way, following up her theft with a half-hearted apology.

“This is the wimpiest blanket I’ve ever seen,” said Kate with a dramatic shiver. “Whatever though—we’ll just have to sit closer.” With a faux-disappointed sigh she sidled beside her. Close enough to again inhale the scent of the hair falling on her shoulder, and close enough for Juliet to hear clearly the grateful little whine that hooked onto her exhale.

She clicked her tongue. “I was serious when I said I wanted to watch this.” But she reached for Kate’s hands beneath the blanket and held onto them tightly.

Kate couldn’t easily wrench one free, but she could reach the end of one of Juliet’s drawstrings with her thumb and forefinger. She could give it a pointed tug and she could trace a few of her fingertips along the top of her thigh. So she did.

“Okay then, watch,” she said, fighting a grin when Juliet’s grip loosened, enough for her to probe most of one hand between her legs. She kept it still once it was there, and her grin won the fight when she felt Juliet adjust to make the smallest possible amount of room for her hand to move in further. “I’m not stopping you. But why would I want to watch the second half of a movie?”

Juliet kept her eyes fixed pointedly at the television, but they shone with mirth. “I can explain the beginning to you, if you want,” she said in a low voice.

Her teasing, lustful expression was far more fascinating to Kate than the details of the action sequence on screen. The scene was set in space, with a dramatic score and sweeping shots of rockets hurtling between strange planets and wormholes. Who needed all that, she wondered, when there was so much to explore right there in the spectator stands?

She began massaging her hand against Juliet, felt the other hand get squeezed hard. “Yeah, you do that,” she murmured as she turned. Leaning in to kiss Juliet’s neck, a rush between her legs at the sigh she let out. At how warm both her hands were for a change, like they’d just come from hovering over a flame.

That wimpy blanket had fallen to the floor again, so Kate had to get closer still. She pulled both her hands free and swung a leg over her lap to straddle her, nearly falling over to press her back into the couch cushions.

No longer was Juliet keeping her eyes on the television. They bore into Kate’s, and she jerked forward to kiss her. But Kate dodged her lips to instead kiss her neck again, hands vigorously palming her breasts.

Juliet groaned as she moved around beneath her, the sound lilting like a giggle when Kate moved her mouth to her ear and traced her tongue down the shell of it. Caught her earlobe in her teeth, scraping as lightly as she could. The clutch on her waist grew almost desperately tight.

“I can’t wait,” Kate hissed in her ear. Juliet responded with a full-body shudder.

“For what?” she said—detached and distant, like the words had been difficult to get out.

Instead of answering Kate gave a knowing smile and met her eyes, holding her contact on them as she began gliding slowly down the length of her body. Her hips and hands found every curve and plane of it they could before she landed on her knees in front of the couch and put two hands on Juliet’s thighs to guide them apart.

Her mouth hung open, hair draped messily around her shoulders. Hands fallen to rest palm-up on either side of where she sat, like she was making an offering.

Wasn’t she, though, Kate thought to herself as she adjusted her position on the floor. Trying to get comfortable, since she intended to stay there awhile. Juliet did seem like she might try to throw a wrench in that plan. Squirming and whining already, as Kate hooked her fingertips into the waist of her pants.

Before she pulled them down Kate pressed her face into her lap to draw in a long inhale, and one of Juliet’s open palms moved to fist in her hair. While she loosened the drawstring and slid her pants and underwear off in one go—aided by her eager lifting hips—she pushed aside the hem of her t-shirt with her nose and kissed her across the stomach sloppily, playing her mouth from there to her hips to the insides of her thighs once they were free.

She looked up, and Juliet’s eyes were still fixed on her.

“What about your movie?” she said against the skin around her hip bone, somewhat surprised to hear her own voice shake.

“I like this one better,” said Juliet. Steady as could be, and she used the hand in Kate’s hair to tug her inward as she spread her legs wider.

She was visibly wet, radiantly warm. Kate’s breath caught as she slid one hand up her shirt, barely skirting over her skin until she found a resting place beneath her breast. With her thumb she fanned up to brush her nipple, felt it perk up. Juliet’s hips gave a small side-to-side waver like she was trying to shimmy closer.

Maybe she couldn’t wait, but making Juliet wait was worth it. Her restlessness quivered between Kate’s legs, and she felt the same wetness building there. And she hadn’t even tasted her yet. Even thinking about what was to come made her squeeze her thighs together, give a little grind in place where she knelt. Then she touched her tongue to the inside of her thigh, more deliberately than before. Traced it up in a firm line, smiling as she heard panting above her.

Still she went slowly. Sticking to the crooks of Juliet’s legs for awhile, only spiraling in inch by inch whenever her movement and sounds became too much to take. Once she made it to her slick, central folds she moved almost rhythmically, dipping inside her, licking up. Dipping inside, licking up.

She raised her head to find that Juliet’s eyes were shut, her lips tucked inside her teeth like she didn’t trust whatever sound she was liable to make next.

“You taste so good,” Kate muttered, keeping her mouth in place for a moment and letting Juliet’s predictable responsive writhing make whatever pattern against it she wanted or needed. A move made with some level of calculated smugness on Kate’s part, but the primal desire that erupted at Juliet's reply threatened her like her own sword turned in.

She paused and backed away for a moment, clenching her jaw while she tried to settle herself. Juliet was the biter, usually, but with a different flavor of faraway, remembered pleasure, Kate recalled the first time she’d gone down on her. Getting so taken by the moment that she’d done all but chomp on the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

Since it was the middle of the night and they were at Juliet’s house, she’d whisper-yelled Kate’s name after making a quick yelping sound. What she’d lacked in volume had been made up for by the curt force behind her voice—firmly hissed, like Kate had misbehaved.

She’d felt bad about hurting her, and held back from ever making a repeat performance. But deep down, she’d longed often to try it again. Or to try something similar, anything that might let her hear that tone of Juliet’s in bed again.

It was like playing with fire, thinking about such things. Especially with her tongue back inside Juliet, sensing more heat and fluid, more twitches and moans that resonated into her mouth and into her hands—both the one now fastened around her breast and the other one, which was… where, exactly?

She scanned around as if searching for it, and with a startled buck of her hips realized it had traveled down to land in her own lap, that in her effort to avoid biting Juliet she’d started touching herself through her clothes. An enthusiastic moan tumbled out of her, out of place enough to get Juliet’s eyes to open.

Her head tilted to the side and she peered down closely, before her eyes grew along with a rumble in the back of her throat as she realized what Kate was up to.

“Oh, fuck,” she sighed. Kate hummed back in agreement and increased the speed of both her tongue and fingers, moving them in the same light, almost tickling pattern. Juliet moaned again, and mumbled under her breath as if talking to herself, “God, you’re so fucking hot—I need to feel you. I need to taste you.”

Kate stopped short the hand in her lap and curled it into a fist, too overcome to trust herself to keep going. Suddenly she felt right on the brink, and what she needed most was for Juliet to be the one to push her over. It was good, she thought, that they were aligned that way.

When the hand in her hair skated down to hook under her jaw and pull her up she yielded, wishing she could dive into the deep yearning eyes above, drinking in the moisture around her lips. She climbed up to straddle Juliet once more, kneeling up tall enough for her mouth to be level with her chest. Together they yanked Kate’s shirt up over her head, leaving her bare.

Juliet kissed her greedily, first right there on her breasts. Then her tongue lapped all around the inside of her mouth while she roughly pulled down her bottoms. Once they’d been discarded the hands Kate had held onto her face with while they kissed slipped free, as she maneuvered them both to turn crosswise on the couch and eased herself downward.

A smile stretched around the kisses Juliet left down Kate’s throat and chest, and by the time she was lying on her back between her legs with the bottom half of her face obscured, all Kate could do was gape at her. The flashing glow from the television lit her brow and temple, as well as the thresh of golden curls fanned against the couch.

What word Kate would use for the way Juliet looked to her right then, she couldn’t say. She almost felt as if trying to describe her accurately would snatch out the air from her lungs, like she was about to utter something terrestrially forbidden.

Slowly Juliet slid her hands up and down Kate's thighs for a long moment, and when she lifted her head enough to finally move her tongue against her she took the same pace. But firmly, and with an expert, oscillating sort of pressure that made Kate’s head start spinning within seconds.

Disparate thoughts flitted in and out of her stumbling mind. None of them could she quite make out, but they formed a patchwork presumption that there must have been much more involved in Juliet’s intervening romantic history than the tryst with her boss. Kate had been proud of remembering what she liked, how to draw out the reactions she cherished most, but Juliet seemed on another level.

“Oh, my god,” Kate breathed in a thin, high pitch as she felt the thrum within her rushing to mount, flowing out from her center all down her legs and up her chest. She gripped the back of the couch to avoid collapsing, and with her other hand stretched clumsily behind her to touch Juliet as well as she could from that angle.

It was good enough to make her hips give a startled buck, at least. Kate hummed and fumbled out the first idea she’d managed to grab hold of in awhile. “I don’t think I can physically move off you. But if I could do a backbend and reach you with my mouth from here, I would.”

Juliet’s eyes had been hanging half-closed, but they snapped back open and burned brighter as she backed away an inch. “Mmm, I’d like to see that,” she said softly, giving a quick raise of her eyebrow before she dove back in.

Kate increased the reach of her arm, and tried to touch Juliet harder, faster. Her eyes squeezed shut again, and with her tongue plunged in deep she started making small, repetitive “mhm” noises. The vibrations they made sent the mounting thrum to a crest, and Kate’s wordless, appreciative shout pushed Juliet there right after—nails dug into her flesh, noises inside her stretched out and stuttered, and warmth gushed out between her fingers.

She felt her heart pounding in her ribs, and felt Juliet’s carotid drum against her thigh. Her panting caught like a laugh as she trailed her hand up slowly to meet the one clawed into her hip. Juliet’s mouth was still hidden—she seemed reluctant to remove it from where it resided—but her cheeks stretched up like she was smiling wide.

Kate stayed in place to indulge her as long as she could stand, then fell onto the couch. Limbs splayed out in all directions, and she admired as if through Juliet’s upside-down eyes the way the television lit up her bare and freckled skin. More dimly than it’d shone on Juliet before, since the film had finished and the long list of credits was rolling against a black background.

“So, how’d you like the ending?” she teased, as Juliet grunted and hauled herself up to a sitting position. Kate stretched her hand to the side to wrap one of her curls around her finger.

“A little predictable, but fine.”

She dropped the curl and gave her a light shove. “Oh, stop. Who’s the liar now?”

Juliet looked down sheepishly as a flush colored her cheeks. “Actually, if I’m being totally truthful, I saw this in theaters months ago.”

Kate burst into a fit of laughter. “God, you’re impossible. Were you seriously gonna let me feel guilty for making you miss out?”

The corner of Juliet’s mouth curved up. “I might have, if I thought you would actually feel guilty. But I took a gamble that you wouldn’t have any qualms about it.”

“Yeah,” said Kate as she narrowed her eyes and nodded in agreement. “I’m pretty qualmless.”

She started to reach for her clothes on the floor, but caught sight of the persistent hungry look on Juliet’s face and instead redirected her hand to pull on her t-shirt. She really, really wanted to take it off.

“Wanna start it over?” she said with a grin.

Juliet returned the grin quickly. “It’s not like we have to put a movie on,” she said as she grabbed the remote and clicked the rewind button several times to send them traveling back at warp speed. “We’re not trying to fool anyone.”

Kate shrugged. “Sci-fi movies are like an aphrodisiac for me now, though. A CGI alien starts talking about thrust force calculations, and I absolutely lose my shit.”

A snort broke loose from Juliet, and the remote she tossed aside as Kate tugged again on her shirt to pull her toward where she lazed. She fell on top of her and hovered with her face just an inch away, and before they kissed Kate thought she might have caught a flicker of hesitation in her stare.

It was adjacent to the intensity with which she’d looked at Kate before they almost kissed in bed earlier, but different. And there was only the thinnest, most infinitesimal moment where she had the wherewithal to let the difference nag at her, before their lips met and the lingering taste within Juliet’s mouth blew all the thoughts out of her head like feathery fronds on a dandelion.

If she could’ve seen her own gaze reflected back in Juliet’s like a mirror, she would’ve discovered that same dangerous intensity, and she would've been able to name exactly how and why that flicker appeared.

Maybe Juliet was wrong. Maybe there was someone they were trying to fool, after all.

Chapter 8: Seven

Notes:

CN for this one: suicidal thoughts/threats of suicide and self-harm

Downtown hot spots
Halfway through this life
I used to feel free
Was it just a dream?

- Sharon Van Etten, "Seventeen"

* * * * *

Then:

Gone so quickly was Kate’s relief at the manageable distance separating her and Juliet. ‘Manageable’ was such a sweet, cruel lie of a word, implying a level of control over space and time that she could only dream of obtaining. She was back to her old ways, making deals with the clock and calendar, feeling trapped by her own body and all the objects she bumped into going around corners.

The unexpected philosophical bent of Juliet’s science courses was seeping in, perhaps. Often she picked up the phone in the evening with an eager, breathy “did you know?” before relaying as best she could to Kate whatever mind-boggling concept she’d learned that day.

So much space around the atoms making up the objects around corners that their separation wasn’t even true. Time itself built with the same lines and planes as pieces of paper, stretchable and bendable through dimensions too advanced for the two of them to access. No true difference between good and evil at the end of the day, since that would require the existence of distinct objects in the first place.

“Why are you learning about good and evil in physics?” Kate asked after that last one, getting so frustrated trying to make sense of what Juliet was saying that her whole face had tensed up in a scowl.

“I don’t really know,” she laughed. “It’s part of the world though, isn’t it? Something we all have to deal with. Even scientists.”

When the day Kate managed to span that distance finally came around, the mileage counts displayed now and again on emerald green signs alongside the highway seemed to be mocking her. Why would they have so many signs, interspersed so frequently over such a short, manageable route? Every time she approached one she was sure she’d see the numbers decrease by twenty, even thirty miles. But sometimes it was only five or seven. And in the interim between the signs, nearly every numerical increase on the odometer caught her attention anyway.

It didn’t help, being bound to the right-most lane, watching other, faster vehicles speed by on her left. She wished she drove a sports car. Or that she had a plane. Hell, why not a teleportation device? Oh how lovely, to press a button and appear simply and suddenly at Juliet’s side.

The engine made a sputtering sound she felt through her seat. She cringed as she offered an apology, patting the dashboard like the truck was a stubborn animal that needed coaxing.

“You’ve got to think about something else,” she muttered. “Or else we’ll never get there.”

She fiddled with the radio, not getting much more variety of available stations amongst the farmland patchwork than she was used to up in the mountains. Another emerald green sign flew by. She tried not to look, but couldn’t help it. Thirty-four miles left. Okay. Probably once she was within twenty or so she’d have better luck with the radio, at least.

What to occupy herself with in the meantime, while she was stuck between listening to a song she didn’t like and fighting to keep her eyes away from the odometer?

Ever since Juliet had left, thinking about her had become a dangerous game. Once in a blue moon it brought on the warm, cradling joy Kate was used to associating with the idea of her and memories of time they’d spent together. But for every such respite, there was a tenfold frequency of clawing, aching grief that nearly knocked her off her feet.

So she compartmentalized the times she spent playing it, dipping a toe into the past to check which way the pendulum would swing only when she was alone, or around people who wouldn’t notice or care if the light suddenly drained out of her face. Outside those instances, she spent most of her time trying not to think about Juliet at all. Only to find that trying not to think about something was basically the same as thinking about it.

Maybe it was the slowly shrinking remainder of her route, the prospect of a reunion finally turning imminent. Because she found herself able to countenance the memory of the night they’d said goodbye for the first time since living it—that was one memory that even the bluest of blue moons hadn’t made safe to the touch.

At first she’d wanted to plan something elaborate for their last day together, having gotten her original plans for the summer somewhat squandered. Though Juliet’s shoulder had healed just as quickly as she’d promised, Kate was too paralyzed with guilt and fear to insist on any more adventures. Still the lazy, languid days had been well-spent: swimming at Jack’s pool instead of hidden mountain springs, parties at Marc Silverman’s on the weekends his parents stayed on their sailboat. And they did at least make it to the faraway ice cream place and map store.

Juliet loved the latter just as fiercely as Kate had predicted she would—she hugged a scrolled-up, vintage excerpt of the region to her chest and declared she was going to mark off the locations of both their houses like landmarks, and remember how close to each other they’d once been whenever she felt homesick.

She didn’t want to do anything elaborate for the last day. She asked to have a picnic in her backyard, so that was what they did. After the picnic, she asked to see Carrie at the drive-in, so that was what they did.

After the movie she asked Kate to come home with her, to stay over like she would’ve every other night. But at that Kate drew the line, even though it killed her to refuse. She knew if they woke up together the next morning, she’d never let Juliet leave. So they parted outside her house, arms wrapped around each other for a good few minutes with crickets singing a ballad at their feet.

“It’s just a few weeks,” said Kate. Her voice came out half-hearted, muffled by the way her cheek was squished against Juliet’s shoulder.

Juliet tightened her grip and swung them back and forth in a small arc. “I know. And we’ll talk all the time.”

Kate nodded. She felt tears coming on that she didn’t want Juliet to see, so she tried to lean back and kiss her quickly enough to distract herself from them. But Juliet started crying when their lips met, and all bets were off. When the heat of their mingling tears started searing too hot to take, Kate pulled away, trying hard to smile as she swiped her thumbs across Juliet’s cheeks.

“I am gonna miss you, though.”

“Yeah,” said Juliet with a sniff. She laughed softly, sardonically, and Kate tried hard to memorize the sound. Tried hard to memorize the deep blue of her eyes, the clear way they reflected the night.

Again they embraced, and Kate tried to memorize Juliet’s warmth, the stickiness of August sweat on her neck. The way her fingers dug almost painfully into Kate’s back, like holding her in her arms still didn’t get them close enough.

There were too many details she needed to catalogue, and she feared she’d start losing track of them once they parted. A more acute wave of sadness coursed through her chest. Whether it caused her to lose track or not, she had to get out of there. It wasn’t going to take until morning, she feared suddenly. Even five more minutes would be enough to make her beg Juliet not to go, and she couldn’t do that.

“Love you,” she said. Inside she felt her vocal cords straining and wavering to utter the words she knew she meant as goodbye, but they came out sounding as lucid and true as the stars in Juliet’s eyes.

Juliet laughed again. “Oh, Kate, you have no idea.”

After she’d let go Kate stumbled backwards toward her truck, eyes fixed on Juliet and the way she was bathed in the moonlight like looking away would cause her to disappear.

It did, sort of. When she reached behind her for the door handle, Juliet smiled wide and lifted her hand like she was about to wave. Kate smiled back before ducking into the truck, and when she looked up again through the window the screen door was already bouncing shut.

At least it’s over now, she thought as she pulled out onto the road. Then wondered if that was a strange way to feel about the whole thing.

The plans for Kate and James to visit Jack and Juliet had gotten hashed out in Jack’s basement a few days before that big farewell. It was a day too sweltering for even the pool to offer any relief, and they were all splayed out on the carpeted floor as if trying to position themselves as far underground as they possibly could.

Juliet lay on her stomach with her feet kicking in the air, crystallizing their schedule in her brand-new planner. It was a hefty tome, equipped with a complex organizational structure that Kate couldn’t make heads or tails of. Juliet had picked it out at the bookstore earlier that same day, deeply immersed in her third (maybe even fourth) school supply shopping spree while Kate whined complaints over her shoulder.

Since Columbia was a bit of a hike, it’d be better for Kate and James to travel to see Jack together, ideally at a time when they could stay there an extra day. So that got slotted in easily for the weekend of the county Harvest Festival, for which both the high school and the nearby university got Friday off. Kate would visit Juliet both at the end of September and the end of October, and James would pick some to-be-determined weekend in-between the two designated for Kate, the precise timing depending on how his exam schedule shook out.

Juliet’s exam schedule was already burned into her head, since she’d been hounding her inbox for course syllabus emails since the first minute after registering for her classes. As she flipped through the weeks ahead, she jotted down those dates as well, recalling them as easily as her family’s birthdays.

“Is this what havin’ divorced parents is like?” James muttered as Juliet called out yet another weekend that would not work for her, since the following week would bring due physics and chemistry midterms as well as a biology research paper.

Her eyes flicked over to Kate, who could tell she was working not to smile. “Very weird implications of your metaphor aside? No, not really. I haven’t seen my mother twice in a calendar year in ages, let alone in a month.”

“Agreed,” said Kate. “But more ‘cause no one ever asked what arrangement worked best for my schedule.”

There was a sad element of prophecy in her offhanded quip. When the September weekend Juliet had marked with “Kate!” arrived, none other than Wayne had the gall to rear his ugly head.

Kate had gotten well-acquainted with the patterns of his drinking over the years, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t new things she had to learn once it started getting worse. It didn’t help either that this decline coincided with her approach of adulthood’s precipice—the greater degree of freedom afforded with a vehicle of her own and being generally viewed as someone capable of shouldering real responsibility meant that problems she’d never even wanted to witness became burdens of hers to share.

As if out of nowhere—no warning from the callers, no consent from the called—she’d found herself on the contact list for all of Wayne’s favorite haunts. If her mother happened to be working when one bartender or another finally cut him off and took away his keys, there was a good chance no one would pick up until they got to her number. And as Wayne’s drinking got worse, he started missing work more often. So Diane and Kate both had to take on more shifts to pick up the slack.

On the first Friday Kate was supposed to drive to the city, a number she recognized as one of the pubs downtown flashed on her caller ID right after she got out of school. The machine shop where Wayne worked kept early hours, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to get plastered by three or four p.m., especially on a Friday. Sometimes because the machinists went out to drink together, and sometimes because he’d pissed them off and bucked off early to drink by himself.

She answered the phone with a sinking feeling in her stomach, figuring maybe it was better to get the call so early. Maybe she’d have enough time to deposit Wayne back home on the couch with a tall glass of water and the television remote beside his head, and still make it to Juliet’s dorm before dinner. She’d been going on and on about the exclusively-vegetarian dining hall, sounding eager beyond measure to watch Kate try everything they had to offer.

Getting Wayne home from the bar, she was well practiced at by that point. But something new—something she hadn’t learned how to deal with yet—was the way he looked up at her when she passed him on her way to the door. His eyes were big and wet. Red around the rims, with regret glinting hard in them. The unfamiliarity of the expression made her freeze in place, just a moment too long.

“’M sorry,” he slurred. “’M no good for either of you. ‘N you take such good care o’ me. Don’t deserve it.”

Then he started to cry—to blubber, really. Making some of the most pathetic sounds Kate had ever heard, as he turned away and pressed his face into the back of the couch. Whenever he could catch his breath, he used it to list out fragments of his many regrets, and interspersed those with the mortar-like sludge of threats he made to Diane on the rare instances she dared fire back at him. Hurting himself, cutting his life off at the knees, doing her a favor by putting them all out their misery.

Diane always folded when he got to that point, but no agony of Wayne’s stood a chance of moving Kate one bit. She stared at him coldly from the threshold of the door, filled with every intention of leaving him there to stew.

But then she thought of her mother, away for the weekend helping her sister recover from an operation. She thought of all the knives in the kitchen, and the gun she’d heard Wayne make reference to several times before. He’d never quite made it clear whether it was something he already owned or had yet to acquire—if it was in their midst, he’d done a shockingly good job of keeping it hidden.

Maybe there was no gun. Probably, there was no gun. But still Kate chewed on her lip as she imagined gallivanting off to the city, drinking in the idyllic campus Juliet loved so much. Eating veggie burgers, meeting her new friends. With worry nagging at her all the while like a toothache—not for Wayne’s sake, but for her mother’s. Wondering if she would come home to find Wayne cold and dead on that same couch. Wondering how ever she would explain to her that she’d let it happen.

She sighed, and let the duffel bag fall from her limp and listless grip.

“Do you want something to eat?” she asked in a flat voice.

Without waiting to interpret his rambling response, she went to the fridge and pulled out the first items she touched. She got a batch of scrambled eggs started on the stove, and while they cooked she composed, deleted, and re-composed several times the same text to Juliet.

Sorry—can’t make it this weekend, the final draft read. Family stuff. Miss you, love you. See you soon.

Within two minutes her phone was ringing, but she stared at Juliet’s name feeling queasy. Unable to imagine how she’d explain without getting an almost-arrogant scoff as an answer, followed by an incensed declaration that Kate would do well to leave Wayne there. That if he shot himself so what? That he deserved a lot worse than that.

She didn’t want to hear those things from Juliet, because she agreed with them. She agreed with them; and yet, she finished preparing the eggs as well as a pot of coffee, and ate and drank half of each sitting with Wayne in front of the muted television. She didn’t get up even when he started snoring like thunder, just stared at him and got consumed by how much she hated him.

It took until Sunday morning to get enough courage to return the call, and when she did Juliet didn’t even prompt an explanation. She just wanted to know if everything was okay, and after Kate lied that it was she moved on easily to describing a prank her lab partners had pulled on their teaching assistant. Kate half-listened to the story, scratching bloody an errant, late-season mosquito bite on her forearm and trying hard not to feel undeserving of Juliet’s good cheer.

* * * * *

More lonely, painful weeks dragged on beyond that false start, until the back half of October finally shone golden and fair like a kept promise. No roadblocks had appeared to hamper her second attempt at departing, at least none beyond her own anticipation stretching out the drive like saltwater taffy.

All her reminiscing had done the trick though, and it felt almost too good to be true when the wide flying highways gave way to cramped, chimeric streets. Their names changed over right in front of Kate’s eyes, and between the heavy evening traffic and the unfamiliar aggression of the other drivers, her heart was pounding nervously well before she caught sit of Juliet on a bench outside her dorm.

College looked good on her. She seemed older, more mature. But her eyes were youthful—bright as could be, and her full, happy face split into a grin when she spotted Kate pulling into a loading zone. She leapt down the stairs separating the building from the sidewalk two at a time, holding tight to the railing so she wouldn’t lose her balance.

The day had been almost unseasonably warm, but the edge of dusk brought with it a firm chill. Juliet shivered as they struggled to sync up her attempts to jiggle the passenger’s door handle with Kate’s attempts to unlock it for her.

As soon as she made it inside she was yelling with unintelligible glee, and threw her arms around Kate’s neck before she could get a word in edgewise.

“You’re finally here!”

“About time,” Kate struggled out with a laugh. “Those were the longest two hours of my life.”

Juliet let go and gave her a long, open look before kissing her enthusiastically, enough that Kate nearly forgot they were sitting in her truck on the side of a busy street. Their hands clasped together, and she startled at the sighing breath let out around her tongue.

“I missed you so much,” Juliet mumbled through the kiss. In a forceful tone, one that rang with equal timbres relief and suggestion.

Kate’s head started running wild in an instant, as if Juliet had tripped a fuse. The truck, she reminded herself. The busy street. But god, she smelled so good. She felt so good. It took another minute or two to mumble back, “I’ve gotta find parking.” And then despite Juliet’s quick nod of agreement, another minute or two for her to lean back and click her seatbelt into place.

Even though she’d also agreed to help look out for a spot, Juliet barely tore her eyes away from the side of Kate’s face. Grinning almost foolishly at her, while they crept around the edge of campus and Kate scanned as wide and far as she could on her own. She got her ear talked off about the party happening later that night, which she’d already heard plenty about.

It was distracting, even overwhelming. She passed by two, then three open spots just a smidge too late to take them. She didn’t care. Nothing could bother the happiness of being near Juliet again, of feeling the warmth of her gaze contrasted with the cool touch of the hand clamped on her thigh.

Finally she caught sight of a spot that was perhaps two inches longer than the length of her truck, and Juliet oohed and awed in amazement as Kate managed to maneuver into it. Though, not without coming so close to dinging an adjacent car that her jaw clenched hard and her whole body coiled up.

She slammed the door shut and slung her bag on her shoulder as Juliet eagerly grabbed her hand, shaking her head as she inspected the lucky sliver of clearance between the bed of the truck and the miraculously untouched front fender of the car behind it.

“Okay, we cannot leave for any reason, because I don’t think I’ll be able to do that again.”

“There’s no way we’ll want to—I have so much planned. And all of it’s walking distance.”

“Starting with the best veggie burger of my life, right?” said Kate as she planted a kiss on Juliet’s cheek and let herself get led through the campus’ winding pathways.

“Don’t you want to drop your stuff off first?”

“That’s okay—I don’t mind carrying it around. I’m starving.”

Juliet gave her a pointed, incisive look, as if asking the same question again in a different tone. Kate felt herself blush.

“It is kinda heavy,” she relented. “Maybe that’d be better.”

“I think so.”

Later—much later, after the veggie burgers as well as everything that preceded them—they returned to Juliet’s dorm and Kate met her roommate.

‘Met’ might not have been the best word—rather, Amy bid them a very rushed, very kind simultaneous hello and goodbye as she scrambled past them in the doorway.

Kate’s eyes widened after her as Juliet dropped her keys on her desk and collapsed onto the matching wooden chair, rocking it back and forth while she laughed at her surprise.

“That’s how most of our interactions go. I think it’s her two-month anniversary with Paul this weekend—you probably won’t see her again. Most of the time it’s like I don’t have a roommate.”

“That’s kinda nice,” said Kate, taking the time to look around Juliet’s room she hadn’t earlier. Her heart warmed at the pictures of the two of them, hung right beside the head of her bed alongside the annotated map. Like they’d all been positioned somewhere she’d see them first thing when she woke up in the morning.

Juliet shrugged. “I like it better when she’s here. It’s hard sleeping alone.”

“What about all the girls on your floor?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She picked at a corner of her nail, staring intently at it. “But it’s not like at home. I barely know most of them—they’re not in my classes.”

Kate moved to stand in front of her, and ran a hand softly through her hair. “Sure, why don’t you brag one more time about how you’ll probably graduate in two years?”

She perked up, tilting her head back as her big grin returned yet again. It didn’t seem like she could go more than a few minutes without her face being so graced—hopefully the whole weekend continued that way.

“So, I hear there’s a party?” Kate teased as she bent down to kiss her.

Juliet blushed. “I’ve mentioned it a few times, haven’t I?”

“Maybe a hundred. What’s the dress code?”

She darted away and stood abruptly with a guilty look on her face, and Kate groaned.

“No way. I was kidding—I thought this was a nerd thing! Tell me I don’t have to wear a dress.”

“Okay, rude, for one,” said Juliet. “And yes, it’s at the physics society house. But that’s the closest thing we have to a frat. It’s their fall formal.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Kate warned as she nipped a hand toward her waist.

She dodged it lithely and jumped down to sit on her bed, crossing her legs under her. “Don’t hate me.”

“Don’t you have, like, dress pants or something?”

“They won’t fit you, and I don’t want the cuffs getting all dirty. I have my interview next week.”

Kate snorted. “Yeah, I know.” Juliet’s prospective research position was another thing that’d gotten mentioned about a hundred times.

Juliet put on her most endearing look and stretched out a hand. With a sigh Kate took it, and sat beside her on the bed, facing the wall. One of the pictures there was of them at her cousin’s wedding earlier that year—the last time she’d worn a dress.

For that event she’d had her choice of outfit—despite the love Juliet’s family had for extravagant parties, they tended to dress startlingly casually to actually attend them. When Juliet had taken her shopping for the occasion, though, she’d been so effusive with her compliments of a particular dress Kate had tried on just to humor her that it felt wrong not to wear it. And when the day came, she’d found she didn’t dislike the dress nearly as much when it was worn for Juliet’s sake, rather than to adhere to some arbitrary rule or to avoid her mother’s displeasure.

But toying with Juliet was always good for a laugh. “How much am I going to hate you?”

She batted her eyes, and bent to the side so their arms brushed together. “Medium. Maybe even medium low.”

“That’s pretty optimistic.”

“I think I can help my case,” she said in a low voice, and clamped a hand on Kate’s leg the same way she’d done in the car, but higher up. Then she leaned in, and kissed her lightly beneath the jaw.

Kate bit her lips to hold back the sound she felt filling her throat, recalling the earlier warning Juliet had given her about the age of the building, the flimsy insulation in the walls. But in the end, all she could do was make her best shot at tempering the volume of it.

If she’d managed to forget to any extent how much she loved being touched by Juliet, it’d all come surging back like something imprinted under her flesh rising up. Imprinted in her eyes in kind had to have been the rapt way Juliet looked up each time she pulled Kate down on top of her—the flush in her skin stark against her white, rumpled sheets.

The hour of the party came and went, and Juliet said into Kate’s neck that it was fine—no one arrived on time, anyway. By that point Kate would’ve welcomed skipping it altogether, but after the next time they came and went themselves Juliet insisted they hop to it.

As they got ready she ran again through the list of the people who’d be there, and Kate tried hard to keep straight which title belonged to which friend. With a dozen names scrolling through her head she observed distantly the dress Amy had set aside for her to borrow, since she was closer to Kate’s height than Juliet.

“She doesn’t have any dress pants, unfortunately,” came Juliet’s voice from behind the door of her free-standing wardrobe. “She’s an education major—she wears a lot of primary colors and overalls.”

Kate twisted her head down at an awkward angle, working to guide the side zipper past a small catch in the teeth without tearing the seam. “Why aren’t we going to their party?”

“Next time.”

The zipper made it up, and Kate gave a satisfied tilt of her head as she smoothed down the dress over her stomach and looked in the mirror. It was more revealing than the one she’d worn to the wedding, but she liked how she felt in it. Older in a good way—not unlike how Juliet had looked to her when she’d first pulled up to her dorm.

Juliet emerged from behind the wardrobe door, and Kate’s jaw dropped at the sight of her. She didn’t look older, necessarily. She looked ageless. Ethereal. Her hair she’d curled on purpose and tied up halfway, and her dress was form-fitting, in a baby blue, silky material with ribbon-thin straps. It fell a few inches past her knee, but had a generous slit on one side that rose most of the way up her thigh.

“She calls that her funeral dress,” she said, dabbing gloss onto her lips with the pad of her middle finger. “My mom would kill me if I wore that to a funeral, though. And it’s not even black. It’s green—” Her face and hand both froze for a moment, then her expression turned sheepish. “What’s wrong? Do you really hate it? We can try to find something else…”

Kate shook her head. “N-no. It’s great.”

Juliet looked at her suspiciously as she capped the lip gloss and set it aside. “Then what is it?”

“Are you kidding?” With an almost nervous laugh she gestured vaguely at Juliet’s person, and her expression turned right back to sheepish.

“Is the dress too much? I borrowed it from this girl Shannon—she said she always gets compliments on it, but her style’s so different.”

“It’s the perfect amount of much,” said Kate, and then it was Juliet’s turn for a nervous laugh.

“You look nice, too,” she mumbled with her eyes cast down. They rose like the sun when Kate pressed her back against the wardrobe, running her hands over the dress’s cool fabric until Juliet reluctantly pushed her away, claiming that they were never going to make it there if she didn’t put her foot down.

They forewent jackets on the walk over, hop-skipping as fast as they could to stay warm without letting go of each other. The physics society house was tucked in a far corner of campus, and was so rickety that it looked like it was pushing to the limits the very laws of physics to remain standing.

While they waited on the sagging porch for someone to hear their knock over the thumping din of music and shouted conversation coming from inside, Kate noticed the crooked sign above the door, embossed with Greek letters. She looked quizzically toward Juliet.

“I thought you said this wasn’t a real frat?”

“It’s an inside joke,” she said. “They like pretending to be one, so someone made this in the engineering workshop years ago. And if people from other schools ask, they can say they’re in Tau Pi Sigma. The official story is that it stands for ‘The Physics Society.’”

“What’s the unofficial story?”

Her mouth crept into a wry smile. “I shouldn’t say—at least not here. I’m not even supposed to know. Desmond let it slip once when he was super wasted.”

The door whined open—just a crack. An eye peeked through before it got flung open the rest of the way. Guarding the entrance were two sentries, wearing untucked, ill-fitting dress shirts and skinny black ties. One scrawny and scruffled, the other stout and fixed with an expression both wary and bored.

“Hey,” chirped Juliet with a gentle smile. “Kate, these are a couple of my TAs—Dan’s physics, and Leslie’s biology. Guys, this is my girlfriend, Kate.”

Kate blinked in surprise, and felt her chest expand like a chorus had belted out a high note against her ribs. She’d never heard Juliet use that word to describe her, nor vice versa. Back home it wasn’t necessary—everyone knew them, so everyone knew what they were to each other. They’d never even had a conversation about what to call their relationship.

She liked getting bestowed with a title, though. She really liked it. As if offering her acquiescence of Juliet’s use of the term, she slipped an arm around her waist and squeezed her closer. First she smiled gently at Dan and Leslie like Juliet had, then felt her mouth stretch wider as Juliet’s head leaned momentarily against her shoulder.

“Juliet,” said the scrawny sentry in a breathy, inquisitive voice. He stepped to the side with a ducking motion that resembled a bow. “So glad you could make it.”

Inside the place was dark and packed wall-to-wall, and Juliet grabbed tightly to Kate’s wrist before pulling her down the crowded hallway to the spotlit kitchen. “Let’s get a drink, then we’ll find Sayid.”

They didn’t have to go far—as soon as Juliet spotted the person hauling in a fresh keg, she called to him in delight. When he turned at the sound his eyes first found Kate, and there was a kindness in them that made her feel she could trust him.

Unlike with Dan and Leslie, Juliet forgot to introduce her to Sayid altogether. Instead, she jumped immediately into a long complaint about an answer on their recent chemistry quiz that she was sure she’d missed. In the midst of her rambling he finished tapping the keg, filled two plastic cups with beer, and handed one each to each of them.

Juliet kept talking even while she tipped back the cup in her mouth, taking only a small pause to drain perhaps half her portion in one go.

Sayid chuckled as she finished her complaint and the rest of her beer along with it, and motioned to her for her empty cup so it could be refilled. Kate gaped as Juliet gave it up.

“I didn’t know you liked beer,” she said. Her own words made her cringe as they came out, and she worried that they would come off defensively.

“Oh, I don’t,” said Juliet, after she’d taken a relatively slower—but still aggressive—pace with her second drink. “It gives me hiccups, but not if I drink it really fast. And I learned the hard way not to touch the jungle juice.”

She nodded toward the large plastic storage tote resting on the kitchen counter, filled with a mysterious, ectoplasmic green beverage. It reminded Kate of an algae-ridden fish tank, and she shuddered to think what made up its contents. She took a tentative sip of her beer, and felt the warmth of Sayid’s hand brushing her on the forearm.

“Juliet might be drinking her O-chem sorrows away, but please don’t feel so compelled. I could use a friend with a clear head, anyway.”

“Sayid doesn’t drink,” Juliet explained. “But he’s the mastermind who gets everyone else drunk, which is way more evil.”

For a moment Kate let the atmosphere of the party wash over her. She felt the music beat in the soles of her feet, and the roar of conversation wrapped around her head like a pleasant tornado. When she looked closely at Juliet she felt smitten by the growing flush on her cheeks, the hazy mirth in her eyes.

She shrugged, and drained the remainder of her cup the same way Juliet had, puckering her lips as she swallowed it down in two huge mouthfuls. Juliet’s mouth fell open as she laughed in surprise.

“Sorry, Sayid,” she said. “When in Rome, right?”

“Have fun,” he said with a grin, and flipped his head around at the sound of someone else calling for him from the direction of the front door. “Oh, no—no, Desmond! Get down from there!”

He said a short, apologetic goodbye and pushed through the people in the hall as gently as he could as he shouted a lecture at the wild-haired man sliding down the banister, his unbuttoned shirt billowing behind him like a cape.

Kate was no stranger to nursing her drink—two, tops—throughout the length of a party. But the only time she’d been properly drunk before was the first time she’d ever tried alcohol, some sickly-sweet cordial Sun swiped from her dad’s liquor cabinet on a dare during her sixteenth birthday sleepover.

It hadn’t been a state Kate had inflicted on herself on purpose—she just didn’t realize how little volume it would take, and by the time her brain caught up with the rest of her organs it was far too late. On that instance she hadn’t liked the feeling one bit, didn’t care for feeling so out-of-control and unlike herself.

When she’d puked up medicinal-green liquid as quietly as she could in the Paiks’ powder room—the color not too far off from the contents of the plastic tote—she’d been more relieved to get it out than anything. And then disappointed, when she found that the dizzy feeling in her head persisted for another few obstinate hours.

Even though it had to be due to the same nerve receptors turned on and turned off, the sensation brought on by draining one, two, then three beers before they made their way to the makeshift dance floor in the living room felt to Kate starkly unfamiliar. She relished the bravery it gave her, using it to kiss Juliet as she felt similarly grateful for the tightly-packed dancers pushing them together.

She was again grateful for the crush of the crowd when the backs of her knees started feeling week, which could have been from the tipsiness itself. Or from the rosy, uninhibited expressions on Juliet’s face, the moisture collecting around the base of her throat and dripping down her chest. How firmly her hands gripped Kate at her hips while they danced, how they skirted up and around the rest of her as much as they could. The small and knowing smile that never quite left her mouth.

“I’m so lucky,” she said right beside Kate’s ear, and the arm wrapped around her back pulled her close, swayed them in time to the music. The slit of her dress stretched wider as she pressed her leg between Kate’s, catching her breath as the slick skin of their thighs met. “No one in the whole world is luckier than me.”

Again Kate kissed her, rushed and sloppy. It was too loud to hear it, but she felt the humming sound Juliet made into the kiss through her whole body. Felt the hands on her hips move higher, slowly sliding over her ribs until they were high enough to brush against the bottom of her breasts.

Part of her was yelling to leave, to take Juliet back to her dorm and pick up where they’d left off earlier. But for the most part, she wanted to stay. Savor the novelty of the kegs, and the dance floor, and the dressed-up strangers bearing witness to Juliet’s hands moving over her body. Bearing witness to Kate, being Juliet’s girlfriend.

Juliet seemed just as content to stay put and savor all the same things, so they alternated between dancing and imbibing in the kitchen until the wee hours of the morning. After most of the guests had left and the speakers had gone silent—the two of them brashly protested the first two attempts of that cutoff, until finally Leslie whined back that they’d get a noise citation if they waited any longer—they collapsed on one of the couches pushed against the wall. Juliet reclined against one arm and removed her shoes before putting her feet in Kate’s lap.

Sayid joined them with three glasses full of water balanced in his arms.

“So what, you’re just the beverage guy in general?” said Kate, absent-mindedly running a hand up along the line of Juliet’s shin.

With the angle Juliet was sitting at, a good bit of her water dribbled down the sides of her mouth as she chugged it with the same eagerness as she had her beers. So entranced was she in the action that she didn’t even notice the teasing smile Kate shot her way.

“It seems only fair to provide an antidote after offering the poison,” Sayid mused before sinking down beside her.

Dan, Leslie, and a sharp-eyed, red-headed girl Kate hadn’t yet met were stuffing what seemed like several thousand discarded plastic cups into trash bags. With the lights up, the dilapidated state of the house’s interior was more apparent, and the girl was pointing out things that needed fixing as she flitted around. Cracks in the walls, a faulty burner on the stove that had to be lit with a match, and a staircase step that someone was bound to plummet right through one day or another.

“Doesn’t the school take care of all that?” Kate asked, directing the question toward Juliet before noticing that her eyes had drifted shut. She nudged her with the hand around her shin, but she only grunted and peeked out of one slitted eye before shutting it again and turning onto her stomach.

“They don’t own the property,” Sayid explained. “We’re not exactly sanctioned.”

“That’s why they care so much about the noise citations,” Juliet mumbled into the couch.

Sayid nodded. “Apparently someone tried to disband us a few years back. But it didn’t quite work out, for some reason.”

“Well, of course,” said the red-headed girl. She spoke with a piping, clipped accent that closely matched her elegant white pantsuit. She plucked up a cup from the floor and pinched it between her thumb and forefinger, her other fingers stretched out to the side like she didn’t want them getting dirty. “No one stands a chance as long as Dan’s bringing in all his industry funding. And at the rate he’s going, he’ll still be living in this death trap when he’s eighty.”

“These things take time, Charlotte,” chided Dan. “Especially with how often the IRB comes knocking.”

Kate furrowed her brow and glanced at Sayid. “Research ethics board,” he offered. “Dan’s methods are a bit… non-traditional.”

“More like sketchy,” said Juliet. She turned onto her back again and grimaced against the harsh, flickering ceiling light, holding a hand up to her eyes to shield them.

“Semantics,” said Sayid with a mischievous smile. He let out a long sigh. “Do you two want an escort home?”

Juliet waved him off as she struggled up, then bent over to slip her shoes back on. Most of her hairdo had come undone, and all the house’s heat had reworked her tidy curls into a more typical, unruly pattern that fanned over her shoulder. “Nah, we’re good. Kate can easily fight off any predators.”

“Is that so?” said Sayid, his tone light and curious.

“She’s exaggerating. Really, more like lying—I’ve never been in a fight in my life.”

“But if you ever were, you’d win for sure,” said Juliet. She stood and offered Kate a hand up, looking down at her with such raw sincerity that she would’ve believed most anything she said to be true.

The goodbyes they bid beneath the frame of the front door stretched on and on, since with all the dancing they’d done Juliet was dissatisfied with how much time Kate and Sayid had spent conversing. She was dead sure the two of them were destined for friendship, and with a drunken streak of sentimentality spent several minutes singing each of their praises to the other.

Finally Sayid promised they would make up for their lost time later on, and nearly had to slam the door in their face to get Juliet to give in once and for all.

The walk home felt significantly warmer, and like it went by twice as fast. The latter shift was especially impressive, since Juliet kept getting distracted by every glimpse she got of a stop along the tour of campus she had planned, darting away in sudden, odd directions to point things out to Kate.

“The library is open all night!” she said not far below a shout as they passed the bottom of the winding, narrow staircase that led up to it.

“You have to be quiet in the library, you know.”

She stopped short and clasped hard to the forearm of Kate's she’d been pulling her toward the stairs by, staring solemnly as she mimed locking her lips with a key. A sharp breeze ruffled the hair around her shoulders, loosening a few more strands from the bun atop her head.

Kate tugged her arm toward herself, and Juliet got pulled flush to her like she’d been when they were dancing. She expected her to mention the library again, maybe at a volume that would prove she could be trusted in a place like that.

Instead she moved her hand up slowly past Kate's elbow, shoulder, and neck to cradle the back of her head. They’d kissed plenty that night, but there was a slower, softer feel to how Juliet tilted her head to the side and clumsily brushed their lips together—she went a little off-target, and let out a giggling breath at her misstep. Again she tried, even slower, and Kate’s pulse took off galloping.

It was so good to be with Juliet again. She wanted to melt into her, never let her out of her sight. How had she gone even a day without kissing her like that, touching her through a skin-tight dress and feeling her playful tongue dart inside her mouth?

She felt an imminent loss of control of where her hands roamed, sensed them sliding higher on Juliet's waist and lower down the front of her thighs, trailing along the sides of the split in the fabric. They were outside, she tried to remind herself. There had to be rules against this sort of thing. Ones Juliet likely wouldn’t want to have had broken once she’d sobered up.

Then a massive hiccup hurtled out of Juliet, startling Kate enough to lunge back from the kiss with a sharp gasp.

“Oh my god,” she said as she recovered, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh god, that scared the shit out of me.”

Juliet snorted, before bursting into laughter so all-consuming that she had to hunch over with her hands on her knees. Kate gave her shoulder a nudge.

“You said you had your beer problem all figured out!”

“Well that was just one, maybe it was a false alar—” Juliet started to say, before a second hiccup interrupted.

Kate laughed hard enough to draw Juliet’s offense, and though she apologized she couldn’t help dissolving back into it every time the hiccup hypothesis got proven wrong again.

* * * * *

They woke up sweaty and tangled in the narrow bed late in the morning, desert-sand parched with pounding heads. Kate coaxed a bleary-eyed Juliet to breakfast, but after they’d eaten she reminded her that they could abandon the plans she'd made in favor of going back to sleep. It was halfway what Kate would’ve preferred, since she wanted as many chances for them to wake up together as they could possibly get. But in spite of the grumpy expression on Juliet’s face and the slack-jawed yawns that kept escaping her, she shook her head hard and demanded they stick to the schedule.

Several times on their daylight tour of campus Kate made the same futile overture, noting clearly how Juliet’s feet dragged and the lack of energy injected into her tales about the landmarks they passed. She gave up trying to derail things after awhile, mostly because she found herself enjoying all the trappings of Juliet’s effervescent collegiate bubble more and more the longer she spent in it.

College wasn’t something Kate had ever foreseen for herself. Not that she didn’t think she was capable of it—her grades were good, and she’d taken her entrance exams the previous spring (mostly thanks to peer pressure from Juliet). It was more that she’d always had an idea in her head that it wasn’t on the table for people like her.

People in Kate’s world usually went one of three ways in early adulthood: signing up for the military the day after their eighteenth birthday, nabbing the best wage labor gig they could, or stumbling in and out of the county jail for one petty thing or another. James was an exception—everyone had already been talking about how smart he was well before he moved to town, since Frank would brag to anyone who’d listen that he had a nephew who was reading Shakespeare before he could walk. Kate knew the military was right out for her, and had figured the farm would be there as a standby to keep her from going down the county jail route.

But as she and Juliet meandered around the many walkways and stairwells, she admired as if through brand new eyes the proud look of the brick buildings clustered together. The big oak trees framing the courtyards, the fiery leaves that rustled together and drifted down onto the bobbing heads of students traveling from one place to the next.

Finally Juliet relented her need for a break, at least, and Kate marched them both triumphantly to sit in the grass beneath one of the tall trees. She plopped down on the ground and leaned back against the trunk, and Juliet nestled between her outstretched legs and slumped against her like she was a smaller, unrooted tree herself.

Kate felt at home, people-watching and listening to Juliet’s breathing even out (despite her earlier objections to Kate’s teasing that she was bound to fall asleep). More at home than she’d ever have expected, surrounded by so many shining stars with bright futures. Some of them were, perhaps, even as smart as Juliet.

With a small jolt of realization she wondered why she shouldn’t feel at home there, when she felt more at home around Juliet than any other place in the world.

She cleared her throat and gave Juliet’s hand a firm squeeze, in case she had actually fallen asleep. But she shifted to the side right away, angling her head back against Kate’s shoulder to meet her eyes.

“If you’re going to say we should go back to my room again, don’t bother. We still have to meet Sayid for dinner, and then we’re going to the movies. No arguments.”

“No arguments,” Kate agreed with a serious nod, and her eagerness to share her revelation must have shown on her face, because Juliet sat up a bit taller. “I wasn’t, actually. I was just thinking… I don’t know.” Suddenly she felt embarrassed by the idea, and scrunched her nose up.

That only sharpened Juliet’s focus further. “What?” she said urgently, grabbing Kate’s hand tight enough to hurt.

“I was thinking, maybe I’d apply, you know. To some schools.”

Juliet let out a gasp, and her eyes lit up like she was a kid in front of a Christmas tree.

“Not here,” Kate hurried to say before she could get ahead of herself. “I could never get in. But there must be some places that’ll take me, right?”

“Of course there are! I think that’s a great idea—even if you decide not to go, it’s good to keep your options open. And I think you could get in here, by the way. You don’t give yourself enough credit—you’re one of the smartest people I know, and all your teachers love you, and—”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed. Juliet’s face had shifted into the almost frantic look she got whenever she was about to immerse herself in a plan. Better to give in, before things spiraled out of control. “I’ll throw my name in. But I’d rather not shell out so much money just for school, anyway.”

“Makes sense,” said Juliet as she chewed on her lip. She got a different expression on her face, the tentative one she wore whenever Kate talked about money. Like she was holding back the urge to offer funneling of as many of her family’s funds as possible directly into Kate’s pocket.

“But I’ve still got time right? Before applications are due?”

Juliet nodded, and shifted up onto her knees before planting her hands firmly on Kate’s shoulders. “Oh yeah, plenty of time. But we could even get started today? I could help you with your answers, for the academic and extra-curricular stuff at least.”

Kate smiled. “No way. I’m here to have fun—and I’ve been hearing all day about how important our schedule is.”

“You will let me help you though, won’t you?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I insist on it.”

“Yeah?”

“Next time we talk on the phone, we can each pull the application up and go through line by line.”

Juliet beamed and kissed her. “Okay, good.” Then her face faltered a bit, and she sank back to the ground with a sigh. “I keep forgetting you’re leaving tomorrow. It feels like you’re here to stay forever.”

“You’ll be back for Thanksgiving soon,” Kate said, trying to make her voice reassuring. But it came out sounding almost desperate, like she was struggling to believe it. She felt the same way as Juliet, but they had too many plans still ahead of them to start saying goodbye. Even just thinking about doing so the next day made a lump rise in her throat.

Juliet nodded, and resumed the position she’d taken earlier. Pressing her weight back more deliberately, pulling up one of Kate’s arms to wrap around her waist. “You’re right.”

For a few minutes they sat in silence, and Kate set herself to the task of memorizing Juliet, saving up all the details that were soon going to be too painful to recall. But she couldn’t take it, couldn’t let herself start going down that path without the lump rising in her throat again. The first time they’d parted she hadn’t known how hard it would be to miss her. But now, she knew, and she dreaded it.

“Hey,” she murmured softly into Juliet’s hair. “Can you tell me the unofficial Greek letter story now?”

Juliet’s smile was audible in her voice even before she turned. “Okay, but you can’t tell anyone I told you—I mean it.”

“Promise.” She made the same lip-locking gesture Juliet had the night before, getting her smile to stretch a little wider.

“So their letters are Tau Pi Sigma, right?”

Kate nodded.

“Well, if you read the ‘Pi’ as being two T’s squished together, then instead of the letters standing for ‘The Physics Society,’ they could stand for what they secretly call themselves: ‘The Time Travel Society.’”

“And what, it’s a joke?”

Juliet shook her head, and a devilish gleam shone in her eyes. “Not really. At least, not from the way Desmond told it. He said that’s what Dan’s really researching, though the physics department has no idea.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“I’m actually not sure that’s true.”

She shrugged. “Well, like I said—he was drunk at the time, so maybe he was exaggerating. But it would explain why Dan gets so much undercover funding, and why the ethics people are always on his case. They must be suspicious, at least.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “I’d like to hear Sayid’s side of things on this, personally.”

“No, you promised!” gasped Juliet, before catching the same devilish gleam shining back in Kate’s gaze. She smacked her on the leg and clicked her tongue in exasperation.

“Sorry.” Kate ducked down to press her lips against the bare skin peeking out from between Juliet’s sweater and scarf. “How long ‘til when we said we’d meet him?”

Juliet hummed. “An hour, maybe?”

“I know you don’t need a nap, but I’m about to pass out. So wake me up when it’s time to go, okay?”

She pulled Kate’s other arm around her waist. “I will.”

Kate laughed to herself when she felt Juliet’s head loll toward her upper arm within a few minutes, and hugged her closer as she rested her head forward onto her shoulder. As she breathed her in and slipped off to the sounds of the breeze and birds and sparse groups of students milling around the courtyard, she figured it was fine for both of them to fall asleep, since they were out in the open enough for Sayid to track them down himself.

The idea of him finding them sleeping beneath a tree made her smile into Juliet’s warm, sweet skin. For a moment it felt like they truly could stay there forever, and she clung to that feeling as she fell asleep. Forgetting—almost—about the goodbye awaiting them the next day.

Chapter 9: Eight

Now:

“Let’s make more pancakes,” said Juliet matter-of-factly, her voice echoing all around the beaded tile walls. “The batter’ll go bad if we don’t.”

Kate’s head was tipped back. The furthest edge of the shower’s reach caressed her temple, mixing in with her perspiration. She let out a thin and breathless laugh.

“Can I have like, two minutes? You’re literally still inside me.”

“Sorry.”

With a tiny, almost embarrassed smile Juliet pulled her fingers out and upwards at the same time. Slowly enough to get a gasp in response, slowly enough that it had to be on purpose. She lathered her hands on a bar of soap and watched Kate closely, as if sizing up if and when she would be recovered enough to hear the question again.

Finally her brain and pulse began to feel as if they were operating in tandem once more, and she met Juliet beneath the water just before shutting it off. Let her eyes wander up and down her bare wet skin, let her lips get drawn to a single rivulet dripping down her neck. Let them retrace in reverse the route it’d traveled from behind her ear.

“Cold pizza sounds better,” she said, clicking her tongue. “But I’ll have pancakes if you cook.”

Juliet huffed a breath out her nose. “I can try. No promises they’ll be any good, though.”

“I believe in you—all you have to do is fry them.”

“That’s the hard part.”

They toweled off with their foggy eyes locked together in the mirror. Tearing herself away from even the reflection of Juliet’s gaze made something in Kate yell at her to stay put, even though her departure entailed only a trip into Juliet’s bedroom to find something to wear.

Despite a string of continued protests against including laundry in their agenda, Juliet had snapped into action as if on instinct when she’d managed to get out of Kate at what point she’d last had clean clothes. She’d even hand-washed her two sorry, shapeless underwire bras, plunging them elbow-deep in a basin she settled at the bottom of her cavernous kitchen sink.

That snap had come around half past four, with Kate half-dozing on the couch, half-mired in the conversation they’d been having when the topic of her clothes had come up. How and why they’d gotten there was already lost to her. But the conversation had taken many similar, sudden redirections, since they both seemed committed against bringing up anything consequential. And yet, couldn’t keep from treading right up to the edge of consequence.

So laundry had been akin to throwing up windmill arms, a last-ditch effort to halt what felt like a pre-destined tumble into the abyss. That explained well Juliet’s single-minded, almost reckless focus, the hard set in her face as she gathered up almost as many colorful, extraneous bottles as those lined up around the bottom of the shower.

Kate fought off a roll of her eyes as she darted around, and submitted herself to another snipping lecture regarding the way she lived—complete with another pointed reference made to the sorry state of the motel she’d been staying in for a whole month, when she could’ve been staying at Juliet’s instead.

Another cliff’s edge brooded in the obvious rebuttal hanging in the air: that the motel was no more than a conduit, an outpost which had allowed Kate to engage in her shady, spectral loom outside Juliet’s place of work. That being in a state of mind and place to shack up with her out of the blue would’ve required her entire adult life to get set on a different course.

By that point, the bra washing was done and the machinery had gotten up and running. So when Juliet swerved them away from that ledge (with about as much subtlety as squealing tires), she’d opted not for an unrelated topic or chore, but for shedding once more the few garments they still had on and steering them into the shower.

Kate dug around Juliet's dresser for awhile, finally settling on a pair of sweatpants and a blue t-shirt without any graphics or insignia. She’d wanted something plain to avoid wearing a garment she recognized the way she’d recognized the honor roll shirt. Also, the color reminded her of Juliet’s eyes.

Maybe she’d be able to keep it on when she left, or tuck it away into her bag. Maybe she’d be able to leave with a token, to help keep in her mind the things that mattered most to her.

She parted the curtains—just an inch—to find a gentle snowfall had started. Not long ago, based on the light dust speckled over the pavement. The yearn of dawn scattered through the clouds and reflected painfully into Kate's cave-adjusted vision. A garbage truck rolled by, and a sparse few grumpy-looking people were shuffling along the sidewalks in their work clothes and heavy coats.

She got caught up watching them despite the pain in her eyes, imagining what it’d be like to be down there. To be just waking, passing Juliet like a ship in the night with a dramatic, forlorn kiss. Not knowing how good she really had it. Then she'd slog off to type numbers into a computer, or make photocopies, or whatever it was people did in those tall grey buildings.

Another few things that would’ve required her life to take a different course. A sad and leaden sensation started creeping throughout her limbs, so she let go of the curtain and backed away. Then she caught the tell-tale, acrid scent of Juliet attempting to cook.

“I don’t know what happened,” she whined as soon as Kate stepped out of her room, flicking on the exhaust fan and waving away the smoke rising from the pan with a cough. “I don’t even have the heat set that high.”

Kate approached the stove and stood right behind Juliet, hands placed gently on her waist. She stood on her toes to peek over her shoulder.

“Well, you didn’t add any oil, so that’s not helping. But the first pancake burns a lot anyway.”

Juliet let out a long sigh, and Kate pressed her lips against the sloped muscle between her neck and shoulder.

“Take the pan off the burner for a minute so it cools down, then do another one.”

“Can’t you do it?”

“We had a deal—and you’ll never learn if you don’t try. How are you gonna manage when I leave?”

She stiffened beneath Kate’s hands—almost imperceptibly, and only for a second. Then with her spatula she transferred the half-burned, half-soupy pancake out into the trash beneath the sink and set the pan onto a cool corner of the stove.

“For your information, I know how to cook. My dad just always made the pancakes at home.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your specialty?”

She spun around and let Kate press her against the edge of the counter, shifting her weight to avoid bumping into any of the stove burner dials.

“Spaghetti.”

Kate’s mouth twitched as she ducked down to kiss the front face of the same muscle she had before.

“Anything else?”

“Ziti.”

She laughed. “Okay, sensing a theme here…”

Juliet pinched the hem of the blue t-shirt and lifted it—just an inch. Little enough that it could be passed off as nothing at all. But Kate knew better, and smacked her hand away.

“Nuh uh. You’re not worming your way out of this one.” She gripped her waist more firmly and turned her back around to face the stove.

With another sigh Juliet retrieved a bottle of extra-virgin olive oil from the cupboard beside the stove, and Kate quickly snatched it from her hand and replaced it with canola oil from the same shelf.

“They’ll taste like salad dressing if you use that.”

She threw her head back and sighed yet again, the pitch of it rising steadily like what she really wanted to do was scream. Another laugh was forming in Kate’s throat, but she shoved it down and left Juliet to put on one of several Springsteen CDs in the collection inside her media console.

The music seemed to improve Juliet’s mood as she’d hoped it would, and she bobbed her head in time to the beat as she asked how to know when the pan was ready. Kate stood to the side of the stove when she returned to the kitchen, leaning over with one elbow resting on the counter.

“Take a little batter from the bowl and use it to check.”

“That feels like cheating.”

Kate couldn’t hold back the laugh that came out at that one. It was such a Juliet thing to say, so like the Juliet she knew inside and out that it made her chest ache.

“It’s not a test.”

She shrugged. “Shouldn’t I just know?”

“But you don’t know, do you?”

Exasperation passed fast across her face, like she’d been about to mount another argument but thought better of it. Instead she did as Kate instructed, hesitating at each juncture of movement with her lip between her teeth and her eyes sparkling. Like she really was cheating, and worried with a thrill that she wouldn’t get away with it.

Kate returned to the position she’d been in before, pressed close behind Juliet and watching over her shoulder. This time, she felt her relax beneath her touch, and she smiled as the whitish blob started to bubble around the edges.

“See that?” she murmured, grasping Juliet’s hand and using it to point to the pan. “That’s how you know it’s ready to flip.”

With the smallest possible corner of the spatula she nudged it over, and while the other side cooked she drummed her fingers on the counter impatiently. Kate smiled, but gave Juliet credit for holding herself back from checking the underside every few seconds the way she often got tempted to.

When she did finally peek at it, it had turned the same shade of golden brown as the top. She pinched it right out of the pan, and the temperature made her hiss in a sharp breath. But as she turned to face Kate she held it up proudly to the light, like a priest with a communion wafer.

As if that was the exact idea Juliet had in mind, she eased the mini pancake between Kate’s lips.

“A plus,” she joked, and Juliet laughed as if in triumph.

The track changed over, to an upbeat, jazzy tune that had been among their favorites to dance to when they were young. Very young—so young Kate’s chest started hurting again.

Juliet lifted one of her hands and twirled her around the kitchen a few times, before pulling her close and kissing her—softly, gratefully, with one hand still holding onto hers and the other palming the small of her back.

She kissed her long enough that when she returned to try a full-sized pancake, the pan actually had gotten too hot. So that one burnt, too, and she threw her hands up to rest atop her head with a groan so frustrated that Kate couldn’t help but move her to the side and take over.

In the end, she was plenty glad to cook again. Since this time, she had Juliet pressed behind her, watching over her shoulder with two hands on her waist.

They ate the final product prepared the same way they had the day before. Again Kate forwent a knife, even though Juliet had grabbed her one of her own from the silverware drawer while she set the table.

Then she made a pot of that same dark and bitter tea, and again Kate grimaced after each tiny sip she forced herself to take.

“I can make you something else, if you don’t like this,” said Juliet. She took a long, slurping sip from her own mug.

“That’s okay.”

She tried it again, and Juliet smirked at her as her nose scrunched up.

Partly as a deflection and partly due to true curiosity, she asked, “How are Jack and James doing? Do you talk to them much?”

Juliet nodded. “Jack more than James.” She hummed, and made a thoughtful, musing expression. “Well, we don’t talk so much as leave each other voicemails when we want to complain about our coworkers. You’ve got to be careful about gossiping in residency—you never know who you’ll need a rec from later. It’s been awhile since we had a conversation in real time. But it seems like things are going well for him.”

With a small roll of her eyes Kate traced her finger along the edge of her mug. “Of course they are.”

It came sounding more cynical than how she’d meant it to, and Juliet gave her that look she got whenever she was about to tell her to be nice. Graciously, she moved on instead.

“James always takes like, a week minimum to text me back. But he spent the summer before last taking a course at one of the colleges here, and we hung out a lot then. Lately he’s been in the habit of calling me at two or three in the morning while he’s up writing and getting sick of it, since he knows I’ll be awake anyway. So fair warning that that might happen—it’s been awhile, so I feel like I’m coming up due.”

“If it does, are you gonna tell him that I’m here?”

She balked. “Of course not. Why, do you want me to?”

Kate shrugged. “No, no. It’s better that you don’t. But I don’t think he’d tell anyone, if you did.”

“Yeah, he’s good at keeping secrets.”

For a long moment Kate stared at her, as if attempting to read all the secrets she’d poured into him in the whites of her eyes.

Before she got anywhere close, a smile crept onto her face. She brought her hand up to her mouth as it grew into a laugh.

“Remember when I threw you a surprise party? I think that was the only time he ever broke.”

Juliet raised her eyebrows. “It was good he did. Otherwise that might’ve been the end of our friendship.”

Kate tried to take another sip of her tea, and managed to allow only the smallest flicker of a grimace cross her face. Still it was enough, for Juliet to jump out of her seat and put the kettle on again.

“No, come on. I don’t need a different kind, see?” Another sip, another grimace.

“Don’t suffer on my account. I just wish you’d said something when I started making it.”

With a sigh Kate relented, pushing the mug away from her. “Where’d you get this witches’ brew anyway? What’s it made out of? Tree bark, goat’s blood?”

She smiled. “No. But thank you for the disgusting image. I know there’s valerian root in it, but there’s a lot of other stuff too. One of the nurses managers on the night shift recommended it—it’s good for sleep. But I don’t know where Rose gets it, and I’m still working through what she gave me to try. I really only have to use a little bit at a time.”

As the kettle started to kick into gear she stretched to get another tea canister from the shelf over her fridge, reaching high with her left arm. Though she didn’t make a sound, a small flinching shudder passed through her, twitching into the muscles of her upper back.

She jerked her arm back abruptly with the canister in hand, turning to find Kate’s eyes narrowed at her.

“What?”

“Your shoulder’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine,” she said. Her tone was dismissive, almost petulant.

Kate decided to match her play for play, and slid back the mug of tea towards her before forcing down a long and arduous swallow.

She rolled her eyes, and leaned back against the counter with her arms crossed. Trying them one way, then after another quick wince she adjusted so her left elbow was the one pressed against her chest. The whirring of the kettle grew louder as they stared each other down, a challenge forming in the set of their faces.

Juliet was tough, but Kate had played a lot more games of chicken in her days. Facing consequences far greater than a forced confession and unwanted sympathy. So when the kettle whistled Juliet slumped down as if in defeat, though she didn’t seem too keen to give into it.

With a scoff she took the mug from Kate’s hands, dumping the remaining contents down the sink before giving it a quick rinse. Then she filled a fresh one of her wire tea orbs with leaves to place in it, and covered it over with the steaming water. She set it down roughly on the table, enough to make some of the liquid slosh over the side.

Kate fought hard to hide her amusement. She knew she was already pushing Juliet further than was safe, while the two of them were trapped together with things simmering under the surface neither wanted to bring forth in a careless moment. She told herself she’d drop the subject, that it wasn’t her business anyway.

But Juliet let out a long sigh, and eyed the puddle of tea on the table apologetically before handing Kate a dish towel and returning to her chair.

“I might need another surgery,” she mumbled, almost too quiet for Kate to hear. But not too quiet for her to hear, not too quiet for the sentence to hit her square in the chest like a fist.

“Oh,” she said with a nod, fighting to keep her voice and expression neutral as she mopped up the table. She stayed focused intently on the greenish liquid permeating through the fibers of the towel. “Like the one you got before?”

“No—more complicated. They’d do bone grafts on the socket. It’s supposed to stop my shoulder from coming out in the first place, since the joint is all worn down. And every time it dislocates, it gets worse.”

Kate’s brow pinched together. “How many times have you dislocated it?”

“Four in total, not counting stuff like the other night where it doesn’t actually come out.”

“Well, how many counting stuff like that?”

She shrugged and briefly tilted her head to the side. A tight pinch of guilt took over her face, like she knew the answer was something Kate wouldn’t want to hear.

In response Kate sipped her new mug of tea—finding the flavor much more tolerable in spite of herself. She missed the bitterness suddenly, craved some proprietary discomfort or pain that might suffice to distract her from the idea of Juliet’s.

At least the peppermint tea was piping hot, easily scraping clear the foremost layer of tissue along her tongue and the roof of her mouth.

“But the surgery would help?”

“In theory. And I really should do it. If I don’t, I might have to get a full replacement soon.” She sighed again. “I need to book a consult with the surgeon, but I keep putting it off. Getting to the appointment is hard enough; I have no clue how I’ll manage surgery and recovery. Maybe after residency.”

Kate nodded, and took another large and scalding gulp of tea. She relished the way it burned all the way down her throat, the tight and aching sensation it set off when it landed in her stomach.

Playing chicken with Juliet—what a mistake. Even winning games like that wasn’t really winning. Wistfully she grappled for some other subject to drive the conversation to, but her mind was too chaotic to land on anything in particular. So as soon as she finished her tea she took a page from Juliet’s book, redirecting them again out of their clothes. To bed this time, instead of to the shower.

Even as it was happening she lamented the new-old, desperate way she felt herself clutching at Juliet, but she knew there was no prayer of getting her hands to do anything different.

* * * * *

Then:

Kate had complained about Juliet's insistence that they get done all the planning for their combined anniversary-Valentine’s Day trip during her long, lovely winter break. All Kate wanted to do was exist around Juliet without thinking. But she was grateful for having it to look forward to once she returned to school. January crawled along as bleakly as ever, but the precious warmth in Kate’s chest carried her through like it was nothing.

Some amount of her contentedness may have been due to getting her college applications done—finally. Even with only three schools in the mix, the forms and details had all felt endless. As had the number of times she’d to follow up on something with her dad. Not to mention, the number of typos she found in her apology emails, addressed to the admissions offices when she had corrections to issue or supplementary information to provide.

Those offices were far more forgiving of such things than Kate had anticipated. Even still, she was beginning to understand the anxiety Juliet had experienced surrounding her applications the previous year. Each time she caught an error she’d made, she felt sure that it would come back to haunt her. Sure that it would prove once and for all that she was trying to obtain something that never belonged to her in the first place.

Once all the corrections were made, though, the relief at things being out of her hands surpassed her fear of fate’s cruelty—for the most part.

Sometimes, the fear crept into her dreams. Not in the form of a simple rejection letter, but in the kind, faceless admissions representatives with whom she’d corresponded showing up at her bedroom window all together, pounding hard enough to rattle the walls. When she looked outside, Juliet would appear in the center of the throng, lit by a harsh spotlight.

The group of them would then point their fingers at Juliet, and declare in chorus that Kate was unfit to love someone like her. Someone who’d managed to complete fifteen applications without having to send a single follow-up email to address a mistake.

These dreams were infrequent, and irrational, and got easily overshadowed by the anticipation she felt each day upon waking—a whole weekend alone with Juliet, spent at Sayid’s gracious gift of his family cottage on the coast.

A year together seemed so short in the face of all the time they’d known each other, but still well worth celebrating. And the beach would be empty, so they could brave the chill ocean winds to walk along the shore, collecting shells and rocks from all the places that got too crowded to traverse in the summertime.

Everything lined up perfectly, until the forecast changed over from not-so-cold and sunny to not-so-cold and rainy at the last minute. Better than snow, Kate tried to tell herself as she drove them through the pelting, pinging shower. The roads were fine, and her dad had changed out her windshield wipers the last time they saw each other. And they’d been able to depart early, so even in the meager winter daylight they were due to arrive not long after dark.

But the truck’s tires faced other hazards beyond snow and ice—they were near due for a change-out as well, which her dad had said could wait until the summer. Usually he was right when it came to things like that, but even he didn’t know everything.

Something or other that Sam hadn’t anticipated got caught underfoot, and left a small puncture. No dramatic blowout occurred, just a slow and persistent leak. Kate told herself at first she was imagining the uneven gait it gave the truck, that it was another game her mind was playing like it had with the odometer. But it kept up, and got more pronounced the further they limped along.

Just as she was about to say something, Juliet shifted in the passenger’s seat and cleared her throat. She had her pillow hugged to her chest, having taken it from her bed at school since she worried the ones at the cottage wouldn’t be the right consistency.

“I think you’ve got a flat,” she said in an uncertain tone before biting her lip, looking like she’d been similarly committed to assuming it was all in her imagination.

“Yeah,” Kate sighed.

She pulled over and turned the car off, staring resignedly through the windshield at the grey outdoors. Her dad taught her how to change a tire back when she’d gotten her license, applying the same sort of logic to vehicle maintenance as he had to wilderness safety. But she’d never done it on her own, and wasn’t too keen on her first try coming on such an unpleasant day.

At least she had Juliet there to hold an umbrella above her head, trailing her like a benevolent shadow from the spare tire compartment in the bed around to the back right side as she arranged her supplies on the ground.

She ran through all the steps in her head, recalling with her eyes shut her dad stressing that it was important to loosen the lug nuts first, since the car would be too unstable once it was propped up by the jack. She held the wrench in her hand, and took a deep breath as she opened her eyes.

Where the hell were the lug nuts? Her brows drew together as she stared uselessly at the wheel. She knew what to do—she knew exactly what to do. But she’d practiced on her dad’s car, and those wheels were configured differently. For several minutes she stayed stuck there, the driving rain ricocheting loudly off the pavement, breaching the protective barrier of Juliet’s umbrella to spatter against her thighs and forearms.

Then the umbrella disappeared, and the rain dripping down Kate’s neck seemed to mock her. Not only had she not packed an umbrella, she hadn’t even worn her raincoat. She’d been taken into a false sense of security by the not-so-cold and sunny forecast, and had dressed only in a leather jacket and a hat.

Juliet soon returned to shield her from the rain coming from above, at least. With the umbrella handle tucked beneath one arm, she thumbed carefully through the owner’s manual. Kate had never opened it before—she’d forgotten it was in there.

“So, this says you start with loosening the lug nuts.”

“I know,” snapped Kate.

Juliet’s eyebrows shot up for a moment, but she continued reading unfazed.

“You have to remove the hub cap—they’re underneath it.”

Maybe it was because she hadn’t known that, and could’ve stared at the wheel all night long without ever having such an idea. Maybe it was just the cold rain lingering on her neck. Maybe it was the voice in her head echoing from her dreams, reminding her that Juliet hadn’t had to send any follow-up emails to her admissions offices.

“I know,” she said again, before wrenching her fingers around it. It wouldn’t give, and the second she heard Juliet draw in a breath she whipped her head to the side and glared at her.

At that Juliet’s eyes widened, and she pressed her lips together for a moment. “Maybe the wrench will help,” she squeaked out, then stared down at the manual.

Kate sighed and tried it, even though she longed to refuse the idea. It did the trick. Of course it did the trick. From there, the subsequent steps again came easily to her. But she felt mixed up and confused in spite of her hands and tools all working without trouble.

Juliet stayed dutifully in place with the umbrella the whole time, while Kate wished she’d go away and take it with her. Doubly so, when she heard her paging ahead in the manual. As if setting herself to anticipate another mistake further down the line.

When everything was back in place, Kate got no sense of satisfaction from the job being done well. If anything, she was more aggravated than she’d been while she still had a flat tire, and slammed the door a little harder than she meant to getting back in the truck. Juliet returned the manual to the glove compartment and herself to hugging her pillow in the passenger’s seat, but stayed silent and facing out the window for the rest of the drive.

For perhaps the first time in her life Kate wished they weren’t going to be alone when they arrived at their destination. Again she felt like she noticed the truck limping, but this time told herself she had to be imagining it. Projecting, even.

The cottage would’ve been cute, she thought, if she were better prepared to meet it. She would’ve found all the kitschy decorations charming. She would’ve found the cool dampness of the air authentic.

But she didn’t. She walked in and hated it immediately, and slammed the bedroom door a lot harder than she meant to when she retreated there. Nominally, to change out of her wet clothes. Truthfully, to get away from Juliet. She winced at the sound the door made, and hoped the release of force would improve her mood. But it didn’t.

For a good long while she sat on the bed, staring at all the objects on the dresser and walls that she wished were hers to break. She wished that being aware of the rage buzzing in her throat and ears did more to quell it. Above all, she wished she were a fundamentally kinder and more patient person, instead of the type of person she was.

The type to give into petty anger over her own mistakes. To project them, onto insentient vehicles, and treasured keepsakes, and the unwitting, loving shadow with an umbrella trying only to make things easier for her.

Instead of breaking the objects—the gorgeous family photos and figurines and the lamp made out of seashells—she tried to pick which one was her favorite. She landed on the driftwood mobile hanging from the ceiling, and stared at it until she felt safe enough to be around Juliet again.

When she emerged, she found her sitting on the couch in the cottage’s small living space, still hugging her pillow to her chest. There were already tears streaming down her face, and as soon as she saw Kate they picked up in intensity, setting her chin to quivering and her breaths to gasping.

“Hey,” said Kate as kindly as she could, spanning the room to sit beside her and lay a hand on her arm. But she jerked it to the side, turning into the corner of the couch the same way she’d turned toward the window on the drive. Like she was trying fruitlessly to hide. Hide from Kate.

Kate felt like she was choking. She felt like she was going to die. She felt like she deserved to die. She pulled her hovering hand back and balled it into a fist.

“Hey,” she said again, more strained. More urgent. “Please, Juliet—please don’t cry.” As if in defiance to the words, her own eyes started to burn. She just wanted to touch her, and so, so badly, but she didn’t think she would survive feeling her pull away like that again.

The mere idea made a sob grip her by the throat, and the awful, desperate sound she let out got Juliet to turn back just an inch. Kate’s vision got too clouded by her tears to notice, and she was already hunched over with her face buried in her hands by the time she felt an arm slide behind her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice wavering and muffled. “God, I’m so sorry. I’m such an asshole.”

Juliet laughed, the most beautiful sound in the whole world. Gently she tugged on one of Kate’s wrists until she finally relented it, then ducked her head so their faces were right next to each other. Through her glassy eyes and splotchy cheeks she smiled.

“Yeah, kinda. You know you can just tell me when you’re mad at me, right?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You were, before.”

“No I wasn’t.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “You sure seemed mad.”

Kate leaned back with a sigh, pinning Juliet’s arm between her and the couch. If it bothered her shoulder, she didn’t show it. “It’s not you, okay? I’m just stressed out.”

She tilted her head with a sympathetic expression. “You can tell me that, too. I want to know, you know? I want to help.”

“You already do. All the time.”

She placed her free hand on the side of Kate’s face, the tips of her fingers brushing back and forth where they fell. Softly she kissed her, then wrapped both arms around her tightly. At first Kate stayed still, and limp, but the tighter Juliet squeezed the less dangerous her hands felt. She wound them around her waist, rested her head on her shoulder, and felt luckier than she ever had before.

“Should we make something to eat?” said Juliet a minute or two later.

“Not yet.”

Another few minutes later, her phone buzzed faintly from the bedroom. The first time was easy to ignore. The second, easy enough. By the third she felt Juliet tensing, and on the fourth they both backed away reluctantly.

“You should get that,” said Juliet.

Kate nodded, but stayed staring at Juliet with her hands still on her for another long moment before she finally left. Her phone was still in her bag, and it took a fifth buzzing call for her to locate which pocket she’d stuffed it in.

Her aunt’s name on the screen. Oh god. Never a good thing.

“Fuck,” she whispered as she came out of the room with the phone clutched in her hand, staring at it like it was about to catch fire. She didn’t notice the concern wrinkling Juliet’s forehead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Without speaking, she answered.

“Katherine?” came the exact frantic tone she’d been dreading. Her stomach turned cold, and she sank down onto the couch before her knees had a chance to give out. “Katherine, are you there? It’s your Aunt Joan.”

“I’m here,” she said. Juliet grasped her hand, and Kate squeezed back hard.

“I’m in town, at the hospital—it’s your mom, and Wayne. You should get here.”

“What do you mean?” Her head got flooded as she scrambled to make sense of things. Those weren’t the words she was used to hearing, when it came to reasons her mom might be in the hospital. Just different enough from the horror she was used to that the unfamiliarity made her feel dizzy, disoriented.

“They were in an accident—a car accident. On that awful highway down by the baseball fields—you know, where I came to your game that time? Oh, that was such a beautiful day, nothing like tonight.”

“Yes, Aunt Joan, I remember.” She removed the phone from her ear for a moment and rubbed her knuckles against her brow. Her eyes flashed over to Juliet, and she could tell from her expression that she was able to hear both sides of the conversation. “How—I mean, are they… are they gonna be okay?”

“Oh, Wayne’s just fine,” she said bitterly. “But your mom… sweetie, they’re bringing her to surgery. She’s bleeding pretty bad. They think it’s just her spleen, and they can take that out. But if it’s not…” She burst into tears.

Kate felt bad for it, but the sound grated on her ears. She was already so wrung out, and struggled to find the space in her heart for any more tragedy.

Nor did she have more tears to cry, but she couldn’t stop her hand from shaking. Juliet held onto it tightly, tracing a finger along the inside of her wrist.

“Okay. Um, I’m not in town right now. But I’m leaving, okay? I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

Her aunt started listing off her numerous complaints about the hospital, and the nurses who were rude to her, and how damn long everything took. Kate had to say a pointed goodbye several times to avoid hanging up on her altogether. When she finally got off the phone, she let out a long, exhausted sigh.

“I’ll drive,” Juliet murmured, and Kate nodded back quickly. She didn’t have the strength to protest, and felt sure there’d be another accident that night if she tried to get behind the wheel.

They hadn’t even made it as far as unpacking, she thought sadly as she stood in the foyer and waited for Juliet to shut off all the water and electricity supply lines she’d turned on not an hour before.

The rain eased up as they drove, and no longer could Kate perceive anything close to the truck limping. She could barely make sense of anything around her, apart from the ironclad, intertwined grip of Juliet’s hand on hers.

“Do you want me to come in?” Juliet asked when they reached the hospital parking lot. Neither of them had spoken since they’d left.

Kate shook her head. “I owe you enough already.”

Juliet looked hard at her, her eyes shining seriously in the dim orange glow of the parking lot’s streetlights. “You don’t owe me a thing, Kate.”

Any other day, the tone of her voice would’ve sent a chill down Kate’s spine. But right then, through the fear prickling all over her skin, she could hardly feel it. She did feel the warmth of Juliet’s arms around her, though, and worked hard not to let herself fall apart inside them.

“I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

Juliet hummed in dissent before pressing her lips to Kate’s. “It’s not your fault. And my dad will be glad to get a visit. We’ll bring your truck by later.”

“That’s okay—my aunt can take me home.”

“Your dad’s?”

“No, not this weekend.”

Juliet pursed her lips, and something Kate couldn’t quite place flared in her eyes. “Will you be… um, will your aunt stay with you? At your mom’s?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. She might sleep here.”

“You could have her bring you to my house instead.”

“I’d rather not explain that to her.”

“Yeah, fine.” She gave Kate a thin half-smile and cleared her throat as she turned away, putting her hands up on the wheel. “Well, you know where to find me. Anything you need, okay?”

The attempt Kate made to return the smile didn’t quite stick. “Happy anniversary.”

“We’ll do something else. After your mom gets better.”

Kate nodded before hopping down to the curb. She shut the door—gently, this time—and when she looked back before entering the building, Juliet was still watching her.

She smiled, and Kate took a deep breath and tried to hold onto it. She had a feeling she’d need it, to meet the unfamiliar horror awaiting her on the other side of the sliding glass door.

Chapter 10: Nine

Notes:

Some heavy stuff in this one (mind the tags)!

Then:

How little it took in the end, to reverse or re-route the course of a life. The believers might call it fate. For her part, Kate wouldn’t be caught dead letting that word slip from her mouth. But the words she’d use were just as heavy.

Happenstance, coincidence, right-place-right-time. In the end, no less hubris was needed to assume any time or place could be the right one of its own volition, than it did to assume some grand designer had been the one to deem it so.

Call it what you’d like—words are only our best guess anyway. What mattered was what happened.

What mattered, was the meeting Kate made during a long afternoon run on a Sunday in the middle of May. Squarely inside her final month of high school, with Juliet moving home before the crest of June. Two lights at the end of the tunnel, buoying Kate along as she ran light as air.

If she’d been more sluggish, or thirsty, or if it’d been a hot enough day to prompt an idea like a mirage to the front of her mind, she might’ve hesitated longer. If she’d been running on a different trail. But when the dark shape flashed at the periphery of her vision, she stopped short right away—the trail she was on lay adjacent to the farm’s extensive wooded property, so there really could be a horse standing on the other side of a thicket of brush.

She took slow and creeping steps off the trail, trying not to jostle the young leaves as she pushed them aside. The horse noticed her quickly, and tracked her movements with huge wet eyes. She showed no more trepidation at a new, unexpected presence than Kate had felt moments before.

Annie was the horse’s name, she was pretty sure she remembered. She smiled as she got closer, extending her knuckles as a peace offering. She wished she had something better—a carrot or an apple—but with a snuffling whinny Annie nudged her hand, so it seemed good enough. Then she shook her head to the side, rippling her deep brown mane through the dappled sunlight.

Kate lay a hand carefully on one of her shoulders. “You’re not supposed to be out here, I don’t think,” she said in a soft and gentle voice. “Will you let me take you home?”

Annie blinked. Hopefully that meant “yes” in horse.

She was bare of any bridle, so Kate tried to keep a hand on her as they walked through the trees. Thankfully they didn’t have far to go, and the edge of the pasture fence came upon them before long. Two of its panels were sagging and rotten, which explained the escape well enough. Kate did her best to prop it back up after they’d both stepped inside it, but it was no use. So she decided she’d better go let Ray know his fence needed fixing.

She hadn’t spent much time in the animal pastures during the summer she’d worked there. The crop fields were on the opposite side of the centrally-positioned farmhouse, which was oriented as if Ray’s ancestors had wanted to keep vantage to all goings-on from the wrap-around front porch.

Annie continued to watch her when the two of them reached the other end of the pasture and Kate passed through the gate. A couple people she recognized were wheeling barrows full of soil up toward the young plots off in the distance, and gave her hearty grins when she waved to them.

The steps of the porch creaked beneath her feet, and the doorbell rang so high and shrill that it made her jump. Ray ambled to the door—she could hear his footsteps inside, since that floor was just as creaky as the porch.

He sighed with a shake of his head once she’d explained what’d happened, easing himself out the front door and motioning to her to sit in a couple of the rocking chairs over by the railing. She hesitated for a moment before lowering slowly into one, unsure what else there was for them to discuss.

“Lucky you were there,” he said. “Highway’s right on the other side of that trail.”

He looked at her with narrowed eyes, then sat back with his hands resting on his stomach. The fingers on his organic hand fiddled absent-mindedly with the thumb of his prosthesis, bending it up and down. It creaked just like the floorboards, as did the chair while he rocked it.

“You’ll be graduating soon, won’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“Any plans?”

“Yeah—um, in the fall, at least. I got a scholarship for school.”

He whistled. “A braniac, I see. What about for the summer? Got a job yet?”

Kate shook her head.

“We’re staffed for the crops this season, but I’ve been searching for more help with the animals. Usually try to go with folks with prior experience—plants don’t bite back, you know, so I can be more lenient with who I set loose there. But Annie’s a tough one, so if she likes you I think it’s a good bet you’ll get along well with the others.”

“The other horses?”

“Not just horses—got a few of ‘em, but I need help with the chickens and sheep, too.” He stood up and nodded toward one of the barns in the distance. “C’mon, I’ll give you the tour, then let me know what you think.”

Kate followed him down the path, and as they approached the chicken coop the sounds of squawking around their feet climbed so loud that Ray nearly had to shout to point out where the eggs were laid and collected, the feed bins, and the tricky lock on the door. The chickens had free range of the grounds around the house during the day, but would surely get snatched up by the local foxes if they weren’t brought back in before nighttime.

The sheep shared a pasture with the horses, and they were spread throughout the grass. Some lazed in the sun, some chewed on the endless feast around them. Half had coats so thick it looked like they’d been wrapped in blankets, while the rest were shorn down to a neat buzz cut.

Ray whistled and gestured near one of the shorn sheep, who brayed and trotted over to accept a handful of dried apples alongside a pat on the head.

“Your schedule’d be a little different than before—would need you here right around dawn, then again to wrap things up before dusk. Monday through Thursday—I like taking the weekends to catch up with everything myself. Keeps me feeling younger than I am. Sound okay?”

“Sure.”

“And hour by hour, the pay’d be about double what you got before.”

Her eyes got wide. “Double?”

He smiled. “Like I said, plants don’t bite back. Not that you’ve got a thing to worry about—it’s been oh… five years? At least that, since the last incident. And really, I owe you the whole summer’s pay right now, for all the pain and suffering you saved me by saving Annie. She was my wife’s horse, you know.” He let out a grunt and looked off into the distance. “Feels like the last piece I’ve got left of her sometimes. So, what do you say?”

“Yes,” said Kate quickly, as if the offer was in danger of being pulled off the table.

Ray let out a booming laugh. “Well, that’s great to hear. Make sure you finish school strong, and I’ll show you the ropes bright and early the Monday after graduation.”

So that was how Kate ran herself right into a summer job.

The extra funds would be useful, since she hadn’t gotten the same scholarship Juliet and James had been offered—the one that provided room and board on top of tuition, as well as a monthly stipend. Still, it was a good one. Good enough that Diane had ceased speaking about Kate’s decision to attend college with an almost-disappointed tone, like it was causing more problems for her than anything else.

Her recovery from the car accident—easily proven by the police and insurance agencies alike to have been Wayne’s fault (a substantial assist coming from the record-breaking blood alcohol level he blew into the breathalyzer at the time of the crash)—had been long and slow. Since Wayne got himself shuttled off to a month of court-ordered rehab, Kate got saddled with the bulk of her care.

Wayne returned from rehab a new man, according to him. He’d found God, he said, and the error of his ways. He and Diane started going to church every Sunday, like they had when Kate was little.

Thankfully, Kate was spared from the rebirth, since it didn’t seem like they cared whether she was promised the same eternal salvation they were hoping to garner. So on Sundays she ran, and wondered if there was any salvation accessible to her by that route.

Even she had to admit that Wayne’s behavior was different than anything she’d been used to. She wasn’t quite able to feel happy about it, but welcomed the change like the lifting of a crushing weight from her chest.

He smiled more, and took his job more seriously—even getting himself a raise within a couple months of returning to work. He and Diane rarely fought, and when they did the fallout stayed limited to shouting.

Still Kate walked on eggshells whenever she was around him, and when he asked her questions about school or her life it felt so strange that it was as if her mind got wiped blank of all possible answers. By the time she accepted the job on the farm, she was antsy as all hell for Juliet to get home, so she could stay at her house instead of spending so much time inside the Twilight Zone version of her own life.

After graduation, the Twilight Zone only expanded. Wayne’s raise didn’t get squandered on booze and lottery tickets; instead, he came home one day and announced that they were, indeed, moving on up. All on his own, he’d made a handshake deal with the proprietor of a small, unoccupied house on the outskirts of town. It needed some work, but was on a sizable plot of land that he and Diane could finally call theirs.

Everything was coming up Janssen, he laughed, tugging on Diane’s hand to pull her up from the kitchen table, where she’d previously been poring over bills with her reading glasses on, a deep divot carved above the place where they bridged her nose. Kate watched them kiss from her spot on the couch, saw her mother’s strife disappear, and wished it was enough to fill in the pit in her stomach.

Under Wayne’s unusually keen and watchful eye, they spent the next two days packing up everything they owned. Only to find out that “work” was, at best, an exaggeration to describe the houses’s needs, and that while about half of it was technically habitable, the other half was something out of the “before” shots in the home renovation shows Diane liked to watch.

Also all on his own, Wayne had already broken the lease to their trailer. So he and Diane moved to the habitable half of the house, and Kate’s boxes got stashed into a damp corner closet.

She might’ve felt neglected if that turn of events didn’t set things up precisely how she preferred them—having an excuse to be at Juliet’s the majority of the time. Now that she was eighteen, she was also freed from any prescribed visitation schedule, which meant she didn’t need her mother’s sign-off to spend a weekend with her dad whenever the weather called for them to take to the great outdoors.

They spent the first of these weekends backpacking, putting to use the equipment he’d given Kate as a combined graduation-birthday present. If Diane’s opinion about college had been swayed by the promise of a scholarship, Sam’s was swayed on accepted students’ day, when he got caught up in a long and detailed conversation with the president of the university’s outing club.

Since the first time they’d talked on the phone after Kate got her camping gear gift, Juliet had been begging for the two of them to go together. At first Kate was ecstatic, but before long it became clear that Juliet was more taken with the idea of camping—which she’d eagerly assert would be just like in Lord of the Rings—than with actually camping. Whenever the conversation turned to logistical specifics, she’d start waffling.

“I guess I just don’t know why I would choose not to have running water,” she’d huff out in a tone of self-defeatism, and Kate would agree that it was a strange choice to make in their grand modern world.

In time, she came up with a compromise. During one of the first interims between her morning and evening shifts on the farm, the pent-up, restless energy carrying her through the day got channelled into unearthing the gear from where she’d stashed it in her truck and pitching the tent in Juliet’s backyard.

“Now the running water’s right inside,” she said as she screwed a stake down into the soft green earth. “But when we’re in the tent, it’ll be just like Lord of the Rings.”

Juliet watched from her spot in the grass with an ambivalent expression at first, but after a few minutes turned her book upside-down on the ground and came over to help Kate tie off the rain fly.

“Actually, they didn’t even have tents,” she admitted. Then she dropped the cord she was holding to clap her hand to the side of her head with a scoff. “But they must not have had mosquitos either.”

Later that evening, Kate returned from her chores at the farm and smiled when she heard rustling sounds inside the tent.

“Honey, I’m home,” she sang as she worked the entrance’s zipper around the start of its wide arc.

Juliet gasped. “Wait! Don’t come in yet!”

Kate let go of the zipper, but the flap was open enough for her to see Juliet scrambling something back inside a paper bag. When she’d managed to hide whatever secret she was keeping, she sat in the center of the tent with her legs crossed and her hands behind her back.

“Okay, you’re good.”

“What’s the hold up?” Kate teased as she climbed through the entrance and sat in the same position as Juliet, close enough for their knees to touch. “Unfortunately for me, you’re not changing.”

Juliet snorted. “You’re lucky it’s your birthday.”

“My birthday was two weeks ago.”

“But I wasn’t here then, so we’re celebrating tonight.”

“We are?”

“Uh huh. Stay put, and shut your eyes.”

She obeyed, and Juliet moved away to deal with the paper bag again. More rustling, then the telltale striking of a match.

“Tell me you’re not playing with matches in a tent,” Kate chided.

“Just one—promise.” She settled back to mirror Kate’s position, letting their knees touch once more. “Okay, you can open them now.”

When she did, she found a beaming Juliet with a takeaway carton from the local bakery in her lap. It held a huge piece of pie, a single lit candle stuck into the middle.

“It’s pumpkin.” Kate’s voice came out sounding small, and her heart squeezed like Juliet had grabbed it in her fist.

“That’s your favorite,” said Juliet. Her brows drew together, like she was worried she might’ve gotten it wrong.

Kate nodded quickly, her mouth splitting into a wide grin.

“Yeah, I know. I just mean, how’d you get it? The Reyeses only make it in the fall.”

Juliet’s worry transformed into relief, her shoulders letting go of a microscopic tension Kate might not have noticed if she hadn’t seen it melt away.

“Hugo owed me a favor.” She held the carton up a little higher, as if motioning for her to blow out the candle.

Kate shook her head, staring hard at Juliet. Thinking about how much she wanted to be around her every day she spent living. How much she wanted to make her feel the same heart-gripping, almost painful flavor of love she felt right then.

“I’ve never had pumpkin pie for my birthday before.”

Juliet leaned over the tiny rising column of undulating heat to kiss her gently. “Well, now you have. And we’ll make it a tradition.”

“Tradition,” she echoed. A big word. One that carried all the years they’d known each other alongside all the years they had left to. She felt small, suddenly—almost scared. Just as scared at that number running low as she was at the idea of how high it could climb.

Again Juliet lifted the pie pointedly, raising her eyebrows. “Make a wish.”

Kate puckered her lips into a small ‘o,’ then faltered for a moment. “I don’t know what to wish for.”

“You could wish that they don’t find any mold while they’re renovating your new room.” She slapped another mosquito against her ear. “Or that that was the last fucking bug we’ll find in this tent.”

In the end, she went with something else.

The pie was delicious, despite Juliet’s extended and apologetic explanation that while there hadn’t been any fresh pumpkin available with which to make it, the bakery canned whatever they had in excess at the end of the season, which was basically the next best thing.

Kate humored her with reassurance, but in truth barely heard a word she said. She just kept looking back and forth between the pie and Juliet, and relishing the continued painful grip around her heart.

When they’d finished, Juliet tossed the trash back into the paper bag, then took both of Kate’s hands in hers.

“I’m really proud of you, you know,” she said, pulling her hands up to kiss.

One corner of Kate’s mouth twitched up. “I did know that.”

She’d said the same thing when Kate submitted her applications. Again when she’d gotten accepted, to two out of the three places she’d applied. Again when she found out about the scholarship. Again when she graduated.

For the most part, it felt good to hear it—better than good. But as the output of all her bids and preparation drew near, so grew the fear that she wouldn’t be able to live up to that pride.

Her face must have shown it, because Juliet frowned. “What?”

Kate sighed, and she tried to look away in vain. She gave in, and pulled their hands to her mouth so she could kiss one of Juliet’s in return.

“What if I don’t like it?” she mumbled into it. Eyes darting every which way, until finally they settled on Juliet’s quizzical brow. “What if I’m no good at it?”

“At what?”

She shrugged. “College.”

Juliet shrugged back. “The whole point is to find something you do like, that you are good at. You’ll have lots of choices—if some of them aren’t for you, that’s okay. Probably, a lot of them won’t be. But trying them out is how you get closer to the one that is.”

Kate’s arms slackened, and their hands dropped down to rest between their criss-crossed ankles. “But what if none of them are for me?”

Juliet squeezed her hands, then let go to place hers on Kate’s knees. Her eyes were wide open, and deep like wellsprings.

“Then you don’t have to stay there. You can find something else that you like.”

Kate chewed on her lip. “And you’ll still—” her voice hitched, and she drew in a shuddering breath.

With a small tilt of her head Juliet pressed her fingers into Kate’s flesh. Not quite hard enough to hurt, but still hard. Like she was trying to hang on.

“Will I still be proud of you?”

She cast her eyes down, chewing harder. Moved her head in an infinitesimal gesture that she meant as a nod. Two of Juliet’s fingers reached beneath her chin, and tipped her head upwards.

“Yes,” she said simply. “Of course I will.”

Kate let out that same shuddering breath, unaware she’d been holding it in the first place. She nodded again, more firmly.

“Don’t worry about me,” said Juliet. In a quiet, almost-sad voice. She traced the fingers beneath Kate’s chin slowly up her jawline toward her temple, looking at her with an almost-sad expression. Her hand landed on Kate’s cheek, thumb brushing across her lips.

She leaned in to kiss the place her thumb last touched, and when she backed away the look on her face had cleared like storm clouds suddenly blown past the horizon. Then she smiled with mischief in her eyes, and glided the hand still on Kate’s knee up toward the hem of her running shorts.

“What’d you wish for?” she asked, dropping her voice close to a whisper.

Kate couldn’t have stopped the clearing of her own worry if her life had depended on it, and she smiled back in the same manner. “You’re not supposed to tell.”

“I get a pass, since I lit the candle.”

A low, anticipatory laugh rumbled in the back of Kate’s throat. “That’s how it works, huh?”

“Wishkeeper’s privileges,” she declared pragmatically.

Before Kate could decide whether or not she wanted to tempt the laws of birthday wishes, Juliet kissed her. So softly that the heat carried on her breath seemed to press against Kate’s mouth with just as much gumption as her lips did themselves. Again her fingers dug hard into the flesh of her thighs, and Kate didn’t know what else to do but devour her.

So that was what she did.

They lay within a mostly-unzipped sleeping bag later on, feet and calves knitted together with Kate resting her head on Juliet’s chest. The feeling of breath against her crown and the grip around her waist lulling her to sleep. But she grappled to stay awake at least a little longer, and tilted her head back to face Juliet.

She was already looking down at her, and the small smile on her face widened.

“I’ll tell you my wish.”

Juliet’s eyes lit up eagerly as she nodded, moving the hand on Kate’s waist to rub circles on her back.

“There’s all this clover in the sheep pasture at the farm, so while I wait for the sheep to get inside at the end of the day, I’ve been trying to find a four leaf one. And I actually don’t think I’ve ever found one before. So I wished that I will someday, and if I do, I’ll give it to you.”

Another mix of clouds crossed Juliet’s face, and in the end she settled on gazing at Kate with that incisive depth in her eyes. It made Kate feel scared again, so she looked away, and bowed her head back down to nestle into the comfort of Juliet’s chest. Then she felt her arms tighten around her.

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Juliet. “But when you do, you should keep it. I find four leaf clovers all the time.”

Kate let out a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Bring me there sometime—I’ll help you look. And I’m dying to see the sheep, anyway.”

Juliet’s request to visit the pasture soon took on a similar theoretical angle as her request to go camping had. She didn’t want to go in the evening, since there would be other people around at that time. And even though Kate told her over and over that Ray wouldn’t care one way or the other, she was consumed with fear that she’d get in trouble for getting too close to the animals. Meanwhile—despite their promised solitude—the morning shifts came around far earlier than the hour at which Juliet turned friendly and functional.

Many a dawn that summer followed Kate stretching the sleep from her joints as tall as the tent would allow, before she nudged Juliet softly by the shoulder to ask if that was the day she’d finally make good on her goal. Only to get a grunt in response, and for Juliet to pull her sleeping bag over her head.

Then August rose low, their imminent separation looming past the end of it. Every night they spent together got clawed tighter by the hands of that threat, and Kate could see the same melancholia she felt reflected back in Juliet’s eyes.

There was a different balance to the reflection as well, with Kate not getting left behind, but preparing to foray similarly into the big, wide world. Her own sadness was paired with that edge of newness, of experience and anticipation. But for Juliet, there seemed no such respite.

Kate could feel that imbalance, in how tightly Juliet clung to her at night. In the unevenness of her breath whenever they started kissing, or started peeling away their summertime clothes.

One morning near the end of August, Kate kept on nudging Juliet by the shoulder after she’d pulled the sleeping bag up over her head.

“I’m putting my foot down,” she said, smiling at the dramatic groan that came from inside Juliet’s cocoon. “If you don’t get up, the animals aren’t getting fed.”

Juliet’s hand wrapped around the edge of the sleeping bag, and she pulled it down enough for her eyes to peek out.

“That’s just mean,” she said.

Kate grinned. “That’s life.”

They drove there with the windows down, and with Juliet angling her face so it would get the maximum amount of air whipped against it. As if she were trying to goad the tiny chill nibbling through the swaddle of late summer into slapping her awake.

An autumnal caw of a crow guided them in kind to that chill, as they walked down from the empty dirt parking lot toward the misty pastures. Kate took care of the horses and chickens first, saving the main event for the end.

Juliet let out a delighted gasp when the sheep began to bray in chorus and lumber out into the meadow. She linked her arm through Kate’s and let herself be led to trail behind the herd.

For awhile they stood silently, watching from a distance. Kate looked up at Juliet, and saw that her eyes were welling.

“What is it?” she said with soft concern, pulling her closer.

Juliet shook her head, and dabbed her fingers in the corners of her eyes. “I want to stay here forever.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Kate teased. “Do you want to feed them?”

“Don’t they eat the grass?” She pointed to the sheep, who were certainly getting their fill of it.

Kate held up the small canvas sack of dried apples that she’d taken from the barn and handed it over to her. “For breakfast, yeah. But these are their favorite.”

Juliet extracted a few pieces, and held them uncertainly in her outstretched hand. Right away a couple of the sheep bah’ed in their most excited tone, and a group quickly came over. They nudged each other by their snouts to gobble up the largest share.

The sight of Juliet surrounded by the sheep carved itself into Kate’s attention, making her take a few steps backwards before she froze in place. The light of morning was finally cresting over the treetops, lighting her beatifically from behind. Her hair shimmered in it, still messy with bedhead despite all signs of fatigue being washed away from her face and frame. She spoke softly to the herd, and glowed in relief when they accepted pats on the head after the apples had run out.

Juliet’s earlier words came back to Kate, and her eyes filled briefly with tears of their own. The prophesied search for four leaf clovers got long forgotten, since the need for any such tokens was the furthest thing from either of their minds.

When they finally gave in and walked back to the truck amidst the pinkish dawn, Juliet couldn’t stop looking backwards over her shoulder to watch the flock of sheep. Kate swore they were watching her right back.

“Someone should tell Jack’s family who the real Shephard is,” she joked as she hopped into the driver’s seat.

Juliet smiled placidly at her, tipping her head back against the headrest. “Let’s have sheep someday. Even just one.”

“Whatever you say,” Kate replied, her voice somewhat strained as the idea of a climbing count of the years ahead wrapped around her once again.

A few days later, Juliet left for school. Within the week between her departure and the day Kate’s own freshmen orientation was due to start, her Twilight Zone got turned right-side-up.

She’d barely seen her mother and Wayne all summer. Only here and there, when she stopped over to dig something she needed out of her boxes. Those brief interactions remained in concert with Wayne’s supposed new leaf, and she came to rely on that new world order.

Naive of her, perhaps, but understandable. Understandable as well, her expectation that the mere week she had to spend at the new-old house before she finally got to move out and start fresh would fly on by. Her dorm room would be hardly larger than the tent she’d spent most of the summer sleeping in, but still it would be hers.

Hers to do with whatever she liked, to make her own like she and Juliet had made so many places their own before. The idea of doing so by herself was thrilling. As was the idea that she might get to show it off to Juliet at some point, the way she’d never gotten to show off her childhood bedroom to her. (Nothing thrilling about a room that primarily functioned as a hiding place.)

All of this coalesced to leave Kate in a place of underestimation. In a place of believing that things would pass easily, and that her life would go on as she’d planned it to.

One thing stayed inside the Twilight Zone’s curious aura—Wayne’s drinking, still kept at bay. He wasn’t abstaining any longer, but limited himself enough that his eyes never lost their sharpness.

What jarred Kate more than anything was learning that it wasn’t the dulling of Wayne that brought on his violence. If anything, that got proven in time to be a weight that’d been holding him back.

For on the first night Kate spent in the house—picking silently at her dinner and trying to recall if the three of them had ever once all eaten a meal around the table like they were doing just then—Wayne set his fork down.

That was all. But immediately the hair on the back of Kate’s neck stood on end, and a cold feeling slithered inside her rib cage. Her knuckles turned white around her own fork, and she tried as hard as she could to bring another bite to her mouth without her hand shaking. Maybe she succeeded, but it tasted like mud and ash mixed together all the same.

Her eyes stayed fixed on her plate, but she still felt Wayne’s boring into her. Still felt Diane shifting in her seat, felt the very air in the house’s quaint kitchen turn the way it might when a storm was coming outside.

He cleared his throat. “Leaving soon, aren’t you?”

She pressed her lips together, not willing to risk even a nod in response.

“After we’ve barely seen you for months. After I worked my ass off to buy us this place.” He gestured grandly around the room.

It wouldn’t do a thing to remind him that her designated bedroom had been hazardous, uninhabitable. Things living in the walls that threatened to choke her out during the night.

All that work to remediate it—and for nothing. Clearly, the house hadn’t gotten any safer.

“Off to college.” He scoffed. “Just like that stuck-up blonde dyke.”

She bit the inside of her cheek so hard it started bleeding, and the sharp, rusty flavor mixed in with the concrete bite of food she was still struggling to swallow down.

“And you must think you’re real hot shit, too, don’t you?”

The slithering inside her ribs got colder. Like her blood vessels had been replaced with freezer coils. She shook her head fast, still staring down at her plate. Willing away the stinging heat she felt behind her eyes.

Wayne cleared his throat, and pushed his plate aside so he could lean closer to her. She felt his breath against her face, and the fact that it carried no scent of beer or whiskey only scared her more.

Her eyes shot over to Diane for a moment, and she looked away.

At that, the feeling in her chest took her over. No thoughts found purchase in her mind, only pure and primal instinct. Driving her to scream her chair backwards against the floor, to launch herself up from the table. The front door wasn’t far. If she could just get there, she could run. Run next door to—

No. Not next door to James and Frank’s. They were across town, back at the trailer park. Back with every other place Kate was used to running.

But she had the truck, and the keys were hanging on the wall. The tent was in there, too—she’d sleep outside the rest of the week if that’s what it came to. She’d sleep outside, and keep herself warm with all the memories of her beautiful summer with Juliet. She’d think about the pumpkin pie, and the sheep, and Lord of the Rings, and Annie the horse. She’d think about—

Her vision flashed red, and she heard a sound that reminded her of a slap bracelet. But it wasn’t until Wayne was pushing her into the wall with the front of her t-shirt knotted in his fist that she realized he’d struck her across the jaw.

He’d never hit her before. Rarely ever had he laid a hand on her for any reason, whether malevolent or not. Avoiding such opportunities almost comically, in the way he’d sidestep her in the trailer’s close quarters. Standing off to the side at her graduation ceremony, so he wouldn’t risk being caught up in the line of people offering her hugs.

Biting comments like he’d made at the dinner table, she was used to. And she’d known, of course, that he was more than capable of turning his words into action.

Maybe it was just another part of growing up she hadn’t anticipated—aging out of whatever arbitrary rules Wayne had constructed in the realm of his outbursts. Coming into her own, the latest wild animal he’d set himself to breaking.

Her lip quivered, but her gaze she kept firm. Beaming it acutely into Wayne’s as he huffed into her face like a bull about to barrel forward.

She’d never noticed the color of his eyes before. Had never gotten close enough, or hadn’t paid enough attention when she did.

Everyone always said she had her dad’s eyes, but his were green like sea glass. Like an equatorial ocean, clear and true.

Wayne’s, meanwhile, were the exact same shade as hers. Earthier than pale—almost murky. The color seeming to shift, depending on the light.

For a fleeting, precious moment, she wondered if she were dreaming. If maybe it was really her own nightmarish self pinning her to the wall.

Wayne’s grip faltered for a moment as they stared each other down, just enough for her to wrench free and make it to her new-old bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind her.

If he set his mind to coming after her, that lock wouldn’t keep him out for long. But he seemed satisfied with the damage done, and she heard his chair at the kitchen table scrape against the floor. Like he was returning to finish his dinner, as if nothing had happened at all.

Kate pulled her phone from her pocket as she sank on the bed, her instincts picking up again to text Juliet. But once her breathing settled and her mind caught up to the ache in her jaw, she stopped.

If she told the whole truth, Juliet would come home. She’d hitchhike home, if that’s what it took, and probably show up at the front door to drag Kate away. So she couldn’t do that.

If she lied, and tried to text her under the pretense of talking about something else, Juliet would call her. And she’d hear the lie in Kate’s voice, which would bring them right back to the whole truth. So she couldn’t do that.

She could tell a half-lie, that what had transpired represented Wayne’s more typical antics. Drunken tirades—the specific words shrouded from Juliet as usual—and the sounds of that which followed the tirades buffered from reaching Kate herself by the barrier of her bedroom door.

But instead of telling the half-lie, she tossed her phone aside and said nothing at all. That way, at least one of them would stay blissfully unaware of the new-old order, and at least one of them would sleep through the night.

A similar series of events happened twice more over the remainder of the week, always reaching the same outcome. Kate spoke to Juliet one night in-between, and let her do most of the talking in the hopes she wouldn’t be able to pick up on anything amiss.

The day before she was supposed to move into her dorm, she realized with a knee-knocking wave of clarity that Wayne hadn’t turned his energy toward Diane even once that whole week. Not shouting, not threatening, nothing at all. No sounds outside her bedroom door once she made it there.

What would happen once Kate was gone? Would that energy fizzle out into nothing?

Somehow, she doubted it. She felt as sure as she’d ever been that it would only multiply.

Instinct took over once more, as she dialed the university admissions office. Asking in a small voice from the inside of her closet whether it was too late to defer her acceptance until the following semester, if it were due to a family emergency.

The woman on the other end of the line assured her sympathetically that it wasn’t, nor would doing so impact her scholarship. She offered to send the necessary paperwork to get the deferral submitted.

Within the hour, Kate had given away the place of her own she’d been so eager to reach.

That night, Wayne didn’t touch her, or snarl at her, or speak to her at all, but still every clink of his silverware made her jump.

When he left his dishes on the table for Diane and cracked open a beer in front of the television, Kate watched him for what felt like a dangerously long moment. But he didn’t look up, so she retreated—untouched—to her room.

She hovered behind the door, and worked hard to come up with any other name for the speck of shameful emotion burning within her hatred and fear. Any other name, besides the one that blazed in her mind’s eye, which she recognized as well as she would an old friend.

Because it couldn’t be that, could it? It just couldn’t.

It couldn’t be, that Wayne hadn’t touched her, and she was left feeling let down.

Notes:

Who wants to help me beat Wayne with hammers?

Chapter 11: Ten

Now:

By the time Kate awoke, the sun was setting. The morning’s snow squall had long since cleared, and a bright sliver of orange dusk bordered one end of the thick curtains. She mustn’t have pulled them as tightly as Juliet usually did.

She won no respite of forgetfulness on this edge of slumber. Somehow, it only made the sight of Juliet’s peaceful face sweeter, and Kate smiled despite the dull ache from the outstretched arm of Juliet’s digging into her back.

She propped herself up to shift off of it, then noticed Juliet's other arm was bent awkwardly under her pillow. That angle was going to make her shoulder hurt, Kate thought, and she gently tugged it out and placed her hand on her chest. Moving slowly, in case she startled and awoke. But she didn’t.

Then Kate tried lifting up the arm she’d just unearthed into the air a few inches, mostly just to see what would happen. It fell right back down to the mattress, with Juliet none the wiser. Not stirring at all, in response to having her limbs manipulated like she was a doll.

Kate raised her eyebrows, and wondered if that tea of hers should come equipped with a vehicle operation warning.

She watched her for a few minutes, thinking about all the other times in her life she’d watched her sleep. Regardless of any aid, Juliet had long been able to stay asleep through all manner of disturbances: jet planes, raised voices, and once even an earthquake that shook and shattered a lamp off of her dresser. The crash of it against the floor made Kate bolt upright, gasping hard for air like she was preparing for the ground to split apart and swallow them up.

Then she thought about all the times she’d watched Juliet do anything at all. She touched her face lightly before sliding back down to tuck into her—chin on her shoulder, spine curved forward like a nautilus.

If she moved her head back from Juliet’s a little further, the sliver of beaming light in the curtains wouldn’t cut her eyes right in the corners. But she couldn’t help but put up with it. It was worth it, to have her aching eyes placed only an inch or two away from Juliet’s face. She counted the faint, faint freckles dotted around her cheekbones, and wished for her to get enough time in the sun that they'd have a chance to become more visible.

For a long while she stayed there, cursing herself every time she started awake from another brief dozing spurt. Time was moving too quickly; she could sleep when she was alone again.

After night had fallen, Juliet finally stirred. At the soft, contented sound she made as she nestled them closer, Kate half-involuntarily reached an arm across her stomach and wrapped it underneath her. Half-involuntarily squeezing her, and hard.

Juliet opened her eyes, and they slid sideways. “Ouch,” she chuckled, fidgeting inside the hold around her ribs.

“Sorry.” Kate’s arm flew back to her side. She was about to follow up with an excuse, but she didn’t have one.

With a quick shake of her head Juliet tugged the arm back across her while she stared her down. “Don’t be.”

They kept looking at each other in silence, and Kate felt surprised that it didn’t make her nervous. Maybe the dim light made it easier. Maybe enough time has passed to let the things she’d been worried about stop mattering.

Juliet was almost smiling, but not quite. Kate wanted to kiss her, and badly, so she stretched up toward her mouth. But Juliet angled away, bringing a hand up to the side of her head. Palm over her ear, rushing in the soft sound of waves like her cupped hand was a seashell.

“I heard some interesting news recently,” she murmured, accompanied by a playful widening of her eyes. She stroked her thumb across Kate’s own freckled cheekbone.

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded. “Last time I was home, I ran into Miles. He’s a secretary at the courthouse now, and he overheard some cops talking about how they had to throw out your mom’s statement. They messed up, forgot to read her rights or something. And now she’s not giving them another one.”

Kate wasn’t sure what expression her face contorted into of its own volition, but she watched the playfulness in Juliet’s gaze falter at it. She swallowed, and drew back slightly.

“Oh. Um, yeah. I know.”

Juliet raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“I have my ways.”

“What, like a mole?”

Kate rolled away, onto her back. She wound the hem of the bed sheet around her fingers and stared at the ceiling.

“Not exactly.”

Juliet turned onto her side, and propped up her head with her hand. Kate felt her face flush. She hoped it was dark enough that Juliet wouldn’t be able to tell, but knew somehow that such a hope would be futile either way. She sighed.

“I haven’t mentioned my marshal yet, have I?”

“Your marshal?” said Juliet with a small and scoffing laugh. “Like a federal marshal? No, you haven’t. And here I was, thinking you were a dog person this whole time.”

Kate’s face stayed stony, and she felt Juliet shift closer to her. She rested a hand on Kate’s arm for a moment, pulling it away as soon as her muscle tensed.

“He’s the one who picked me up when I was first trying to run, right after it happened. But his car crashed, and I got away. He’s been assigned to my case ever since, and he’s kind of…”

Her voice trailed off, into a silence that clouded the room like billowing smoke.

Kind of what?

The morbid game of cat and mouse she and Mars had been mired in for years occupied so much of her psyche. Too much of it, really. Enough that she dreamt about him more often than she liked to think about. And yet, putting it into words made her tongue feel like it was wrapped up in cotton. She drew in a long breath.

“I don’t know how else to describe it,” she admitted. “He’s been… obsessed, almost. Like I’m the only case he’s had to deal with, which I’m pretty sure isn’t how it works.”

Juliet gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Okay, but did he tell you about your mom last time he brought you in or something? That seems odd—I’d think they’d want to keep stuff like that closer to the chest.”

“He’s never brought me in. He’s never caught me at all, other than that first time. I always get away.”

“But he was how you found out?”

“Yeah.”

Another long and weighted moment of silence passed, and Juliet’s stare didn’t let up.

“We… talk. Sometimes.”

“You talk.”

“On the phone.”

She balked, lips twitching like she was midway between laughing and grimacing. “Oh, well of course.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t get it.”

Juliet put her hand on Kate’s arm again. Again she tensed up, but this time she didn’t pull away. “Look, I don’t need all the details. I’m sure it’s a really bizarre situation.” She gave her arm a squeeze, and drew her brows together. “I just thought you’d want to know about your mom. But it’s good that you do already, however it happened.”

“What does it matter?” Kate sighed and tossed back the sheet, partly wanting to wrench her arm free from Juliet’s grip, but mostly wishing she’d hold on tighter. “There’s so much else they can get me on. I’ve done so much…” She stopped, struck with a sudden feeling like a hand was wrapped around her throat. “Just, so much I’m not proud of. And like I said, I’m running from this guy constantly. I don’t think one statement getting tossed out would change anything.”

“At least it seems like things changed for your mom though, right? She’s taking your side.”

“There aren’t sides,” huffed Kate. “I killed her husband. One statement definitely doesn’t change that.”

“You were trying to help her.”

“She’ll never see it that way.”

Juliet sat up a little, and her grip on Kate’s arm slackened. “We don’t have to…” She let out a breath. “We can talk about something else. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said Kate with a coy smile.

She pushed herself up so their faces were level, and worked to beat back thoughts of her mother. Of Mars, and Wayne’s burning form. At least long enough to soften her gaze, to turn her focus back to things that mattered. She leaned in, and pressed her lips to the top of Juliet’s chest. Another long breath fell out of her, and Kate placed her hand on the bare skin of her waist. Sliding it up higher, moving her mouth downward. Thinking about all the times in her life she’d listened to the sounds Juliet made, ears pealed for them like someone keenly waiting for the call of a rare bird, binoculars ready in hand.

She wondered how many more times in her life she’d have the chance to hear her. Something told her the count wouldn’t be too high, so she wrapped an arm tightly around Juliet’s torso once again, easing her down to the mattress before she shifted on top of her, eagerly moving her hands and mouth to all the places that might bring her what she was searching for.

* * * * *

Then:

The dining chairs in James’ apartment were mismatched, since his roommate had procured them one-by-one in various thrift stores and garage sales. The set did share a common attribute, though: all of them had one leg that was slightly shorter than the others.

Kate rocked the one she occupied back and forth while she checked the following weekend’s weather for about the fifteenth time. The uneven chair legs thumped steadily against the floor.

Cold but sunny, and clear as could be. Not even partly cloudy. The same prediction as when she’d last checked. She tried to tell herself that it wouldn’t matter until the weekend got closer, since things were always prone to changing on a dime in the winter. But the sooner she was able to note any potential inclemency, the more time she’d have to prepare.

Prepare what, she couldn't quite say. And she knew placing blame on the rain for the fiasco of her and Juliet’s last anniversary didn’t make sense. But she couldn’t shake the feeling like things might turn out better so long as the weather turned out better, too.

Maybe it was because they were going to Sayid’s family cottage again, and too many things happening the same way they did the previous year felt like tempting fate.

James let out an exasperated sigh from the couch, and peeked up at her over the book he had propped on his chest.

“D’you mind quittin' that racket? Tryin’ to focus over here.”

She glared at him, but forced her bouncing feet off the ground to rest on the seat of the chair across the table instead.

“When’s Michael getting back from the store?”

He shrugged. “Why, you hungry?”

She shrugged back. “Mind if I shower?”

“By all means,” he said with a flourishing gesture toward the bathroom.

The mirror was still fogged up from the shower James had taken almost an hour earlier, with the vent fan sputtering a feeble attempt to clear the air. With all her might Kate hauled open the small and sticky window beside the sink, and in came a shrill blast of frigid wind. She turned on the water and stood there shivering, waiting until the last possible moment to shed her clothes.

At least the temperature of their water trended toward scalding, no matter to what position the faucet was set. Kate hissed and drew her shoulders up toward her ears while she waited to adjust to the falling stream.

As she worked James' two-in-one shampoo and conditioner through her hair as well as she could, she realized that she’d already gone through all the changes of clothes she’d brought with her. So that meant she’d been there for three… no, wait… four days. She sighed. Deferring school for yet another semester seemed a silly choice in the end, when she was already spending the bulk of her time right down the road from campus anyway.

Juliet hadn’t responded to this recent deferral any differently than she had the first one, even though the bundle of jumping beans that replaced Kate’s stomach while she broke the news wouldn’t have known it. She didn’t say so, but Kate had a feeling Juliet suspected she’d never truly wanted to go to college, and had only pursued it to make Juliet happy. Kate opted to hope that feeling was true—and in the event that it was, to let her keep suspecting it.

For Kate’s part, she wasn’t even sure she could name her reasons anymore. In the beginning, it’d been about Wayne, and the pathological need to offer herself up as a sacrifice. And he had eased off afterward, as if coercing her into giving the opportunity up had been part of his motivation to escalate things in the first place.

But then the farm’s harvest season ended, and the winterizing of the animal barns got completed. And Kate found herself lingering at her mother’s house with nothing to do far more often than she would’ve liked. She tried spending more time at her dad’s, but he always had questions for her. Mostly along the lines of what on earth she was planning to do with her life, if she wasn’t going to school and she wasn’t going to get an off-season job.

She didn’t have answers for him, so she’d retreat back to her mother’s, where no one ever had questions for her. Where no one expected her to do anything with her life or make anything of herself.

Slowly but surely, Wayne resumed his usual ways. Choosing whether Kate or Diane would be the one to bear the brunt of his rage with all the randomness of a coin flip.

That next phase didn’t last too long. Or at least, Kate didn’t stick around to let it last too long. If her presence wasn’t going to let her mother get off any easier, what was the point of being present in the first place?

Thankfully James was able to offer her respite, like things had tended to go back before Juliet entered the picture. Kate did her best to balance the time she spent at his apartment with visits to her dad, gritting her teeth into a smile against his probing questions for as long as she possibly could before she gave in and leaned on James once more.

In exchange for his outsized hospitality, she did her best to be unobtrusive whenever she was there. She helped to pay for groceries and took over all the worst chores, like bringing the garbage out to the rat-infested alley alongside their building. When the two of them argued about something, she tended to fall naturally on Michael’s side, so he warmed up to her well and often begged her half-jokingly not to go whenever she packed up to leave.

The drive to the university from home wasn’t that far, but with how often she made the trip her truck was certainly racking up a lot of miles in its old age. Another thing to worry about for the following weekend. Hopefully the engine could hang on for one last gasp, at least.

Anniversary weekend worries aside, she dreaded to think of what she was going to do when her truck was finally done in. Her savings from the past summer were already dwindling, and several months remained between her and the next season. Maybe she should start picking up odd jobs around campus, she thought. It would give her more reason to stick around there, anyway.

When she turned off the shower, she heard the muffled sounds of rustling grocery bags, accompanied by James’ and Michael’s conversation. More of a lecture than a conversation, she thought as she listened more closely to the melody of their voices. James had had his feet up on the coffee table earlier, and Michael was always telling him not to do that.

Kate smiled as she tousled a towel in her hair and pulled back on the same clothes she’d been wearing before the shower. She’d head to her dad’s after she helped Michael make dinner that evening, she decided, and then before she went to bed she could give Juliet a call to go over any details for the next weekend that still needed discussing.

But then while she was helping put the groceries away, her phone started buzzing on the dining table. Even before she looked at it, she knew it would be her.

She sighed. For the last few months, Juliet had been reading her mind more than usual. She kept calling just before Kate had the chance to make a call she’d honestly been planning to make. From Juliet’s side of things, it probably looked like Kate hardly thought about her.

Well, there wasn’t even a “probably” about it—all Juliet’s “hellos” had sounded like “sorries” lately. Those sorry-hellos always made Kate feel wretched, but to insist unprompted that she’d honestly been planning to call her later always seemed too defensive, so instead she did her best to ignore them. Did her best to quell the undertone of annoyance she felt cropping up in her own words, because she knew it wasn’t fair. And she wanted to talk to Juliet. But she wondered sometimes if she also wanted Juliet to want to talk to her a little less.

James and Michael had started arguing about something, but Kate tuned it out to center on her buzzing phone. At first, she planned to let the call go to voicemail. She could call Juliet back on the drive home, since she generally avoided talking to her while she was at James’. Old habits, maybe, and memories of old, twinging jealousies. Like she didn’t want Juliet to feel around her and James the way Kate had felt once around the two of them—like an outsider, looking in on a relationship that she knew she’d never quite understand.

But Juliet was an outsider, in a vastly different way than Kate had been back then. It wasn’t books and films and the world’s many philosophies that drew Kate and James together, but simpler, baser things. Fear, and violence. Knowing how it felt when home was an unsafe place, and needing somewhere to shelter from it like it was a natural disaster. And Kate didn’t dare give Juliet the chance to feel like that connection was something she was missing out on. As fruitless as it was to feel so protective toward someone to whom she’d divulged plenty of her life’s gory details, on some level she didn’t even want Juliet to know such things existed.

Juliet had called her two days ago, though, and Kate had let that call go to voicemail. So she grabbed her phone off the table and took it into James’ room, shutting the door behind her as she picked it up.

She smiled, and hoped it would shine through in her voice. “Hey.”

“Hey,” said Juliet, sounding a little more surprised than sorry. That was a welcome change. As long as Kate didn’t think too hard about why Juliet would be surprised that she had answered. “Bad time?”

Kate shook her head, then scoffed at herself. Then grimaced, as she worried Juliet would think the scoff was directed at her. She tried smiling wide again. “No, not at all. How’s your paper going?”

She groaned. “Long. Boring. Remind me why I took Russian lit again? I’m gonna declare biology as my major like, any day now.”

“Something about being well-rounded?”

“Well, I changed my mind, okay? Being well-rounded is overrated. I want to be sharp and pointy—don’t let me forget.”

“Deal.”

Then came a stretch of silence. It was easier for Kate to ask Juliet questions than the other way around, but lately she’d been having trouble coming up with more than one or two to pose at a time. She tried wracking her brain to remember what other assignments Juliet had been complaining about, feeling like she was struggling to come up with an answer on a test.

She heard Juliet take a breath like she was about to speak, and relief coursed through her. But then just as she started talking, a knock came on the door.

“One sec,” she said quickly to Juliet, then clamped her hand around the phone’s receiving end before she gently turned the knob. “What?” she hissed at James, whose face hovered in the narrow crack.

“Oh, nothin’,” he lilted. “Just hopin’ to get into my bedroom. If that’s okay with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Two minutes.”

He started in on a complaint about her acting like she was in any position to negotiate in the first place, but Kate shut the door before he could finish it.

“Sorry,” she said to Juliet as she sat on the end of the unmade bed and flopped down on her back.

“Was that James?”

Kate rubbed a hand across her forehead, and it felt hot to the touch. She wondered if it was from the shower. Or if she was getting sick. Or if she was about to get caught in a lie. Any number of things could make her blood dial up a degree or two.

When it came down to it though, she didn’t have a lie in her. “Yeah, I’m over at his place.”

A beat of silence passed. “Oh, nice,” said Juliet, her voice sounding casual, if a little thin. “Tell him I say hi.”

“I will.” She dropped her arm to the side, stretching it out wide like she was making half a snow angel. “Did you see the weather for next weekend? Looks pretty good.”

“Mhm. Cold, though.”

“That could change.”

“True.”

She let another loaded stretch of silence pass, telling herself she was giving Juliet a chance to ask her a question since she’d already asked her two. When she didn’t, Kate sighed.

“Alright, I should go. We’re gonna make dinner.”

“Call me later this week?” asked Juliet, and the tone of her voice made Kate ache all over.

There it was. The apology she’d been spared in their greeting, persisting into the conversation one way or another.

“For sure.”

Her forehead felt hot again, like she already knew deep down exactly how things would go.

* * * * *

The forecast held true, and the truck held up. Upon her second arrival at the quaint oceanside cottage, Kate appreciated all the things about it that had bothered her before. And all the bliss she had imagined for their failed first anniversary weekend got multiplied two or three-fold, like the universe intended to make up well for her previous misfortune. Like another year’s worth of days spent loving Juliet truly did add up to something tangible.

On their last morning there, they emerged from their blissful cocoon long enough to walk down to the shore. Juliet ran ahead, and her loose yellow hair blew bright and wild in the sharp winter winds. She shrieked with glee as she bent over the lapping tide, daring to drag her bare knuckles through the brackish, foamy water to test how cold the ocean really got that time of year. Like she was inclined against trusting common wisdom without testing the theory for herself.

Kate watched Juliet conduct her research from up in the nearby dunes, hands shoved deep in her pockets. Cradling carefully the shells Juliet had collected for her on the walk down. Brittle grasses whistled against her boots, and she grinned so hard that the cold air stung her lips at the sides.

She’d never loved anything in the world as much as she loved Juliet, she thought while she observed her making her own observations. She kept thinking it while Juliet held her hand inside her coat pocket as they walked back to the cottage, their two hands closed around one of the ridged and delicate shells. And while Juliet interrupted Kate’s packing to kneel behind her where she sat on the living room floor, sighing in her ear as she yanked the sweater she was folding right out of her hands and wrapped her arms around her. Whispering that she loved her back as her hands roamed, raising static all beneath her skin.

Once Kate was alone in her truck after dropping Juliet off at her dorm, though, her eyes welled with thick and stinging tears. All of a sudden she felt raw at the edges, like her chest had been hollowed out.

That awful hollow feeling endured, and she sobbed almost the whole way home. And almost the whole way home, a voice in the back of her head nagged that she’d lost track of something important. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember what it was.

Chapter 12: Eleven

Notes:

CN for animal death in this one!

Now:

All night they stayed in bed, talking about nothing. Even eating their cold pizza there in the nadir below dawn’s breaking, torsos cantilevered off the mattress’s edge one by one to spare Juliet the crumbs to deal with later.

Juliet, holding onto Kate’s legs so she wouldn’t fall. Juliet, pressing her lips to the back of her knee, brushing her nose against her thigh. Juliet, inhaling, then sighing.

Kate, impatient to taste that sigh like a palate cleanser. Kate, scarfing down her slice of pizza so quickly she nearly choked on it.

She was still coughing when she heaved herself back to the center of the bed. Still coughing when Juliet’s lips meandered upwards. She tried to turn away from them, cough over her shoulder instead, but she got caught by the jaw.

One last cough, her hand a futile cover. Juliet caught her again, this time by that hand. Toward her she pulled it, and the unhurried tenderness of the kiss she placed on Kate’s wrist was enough to ease the spasms in her chest altogether. Enough to open her throat like she was breathing properly for the first time in ages.

Inhale, then a sigh. And her mouth moved to the crook of Kate’s elbow. The same sort of kiss, lingering even after she moved again, to the inside of her upper arm. Kate felt her vein bouncing into her lips, then away. Softly, like her pulse was jumping on a feather bed.

Juliet knew all her pulse points, she realized with a strange, shy thrill. She knew all the routes from one to the next, the constitution of the blood traveling those routes. All her bones, and muscles, and the sinew in-between. She could name them all, one by one. Trace them with her mouth and hands and eyes and mind.

If she cut Kate open, she’d know exactly what she was looking at.

“Wait,” said Kate.

Then she startled at the sound of her own voice, far more abruptly than the unbothered grace with which Juliet backed away from the place on Kate’s neck she’d moved to from her arm.

They had all the lights off. The tangled tumble of her hair shrouded grayish, and the lines of her face blurred into the static-laden air all around them.

But somehow her eyes shone so bright. Glowing with adoration that made Kate feel sheltered, and whole. Terrifying relief flooded through her, crashing down her defenses like the bursting of a dam.

Juliet stayed frozen. Waiting, as asked.

She’d do whatever Kate asked of her. She’d always done whatever Kate asked of her.

And what had Kate done?

“I’m sorry,” she said, the words coming out frantic. Barreling off the edge she’d been toeing the last two days, ahead of what she felt coming. Her canines pierced the inner corners of her lip as if the pain could envelop it, force it down again.

The look in Juliet’s eyes got tinged with worry, confusion. Her hand went to the place her lips had just been, thumb stroking patiently and deliberately over the front plane of Kate’s throat. Helping her swallow whatever she dared not share.

But it was too late—the dam had failed. The apology didn’t even need finishing for Juliet’s eyes to harden over as soon as Kate met them. For the sharp sound of her inhale to echo around the room.

Her thumb stilled. And suddenly Kate was holding her breath.

“Don’t,” she said. Grief and warning wrapped around her tone in equal measure.

She moved closer, and lay her cheek on Kate’s bare chest. Her lips found another pulse point. The pulse point, where all the other ones converged. Then they traveled slowly back up her neck, along the ridge of her jaw, to the ticklish place behind her ear.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” she breathed there, drawing out gooseflesh. “Okay?”

Kate nodded quickly, then cloaked her arm around Juliet’s middle. Hand going fast beneath her shirt, stretching her fingers wide like she wanted to reach as much of her as possible. Drawing her in, slackening only enough to allow Juliet to shift over, to straddle her thigh.

Then she was right back to winding around her as tight as she could. Tighter than usual, as if the movement of Juliet’s hips was coiling her up like a spring. Her eyes fluttered shut when Juliet leaned down, breathing her name as their lips met.

And Kate wished only to drown in her, to disappear forever in the depths of the flood she’d set free.

* * * * *

Then:

The truck let out a rattling sound as Kate pulled up to Wayne and Diane’s. She had to veer her tires off into the yard, since landscaping machinery was occupying most of the narrow gravel driveway extending inward from the road.

It seemed to squeal in pain as she turned off the ignition. She sighed. Maybe it would’ve been better to leave it running.

Fog crept through the young grasses, covering the whole house and yard in a haze. The birds in the budding shrub beside the front stoop did their best to offer welcome. Perhaps chittering to Kate about whatever had passed since the last time she’d been there.

It’d been weeks, at least. Not long enough. She’d still had to force herself out of bed, force the car to take the right turns on her way over. Skirting around town altogether.

Over the river and through the woods, to Wayne’s house of horrors we go.

Last time she came by was just the same—both inhabitants gone, not due to return anytime soon. Ten-thirty on Sundays remained a reliable window. An hour, at least.

On such a holy day, they might even be gone an hour and a half.

She felt bad for it, but the birds annoyed her. She didn’t want to hear about anything that happened in that house.

Her clothes weren’t even hung up in her closet, like she’d never finished moving in. She dug around in a box for a minute, then pulled out her blue dress—the one with small white flowers dotted all over the fabric.

There wasn’t time to iron it. But Juliet’s grandparents wouldn’t comment on the wrinkles.

Rachel might, but she was bound to be wearing something even less occasion-appropriate herself. Always so tired, these days. Not up for her usual creative brands of expression. But dependably quick with a silencing retort as ever, if anyone gave her a hard time about it.

Well, almost anyone. When Juliet’s mother had visited her at school the month before and taken the whole group of them to the theatre, Rachel’s black cotton leggings were the evening’s biggest travesty.

With how infrequently Juliet’s mother visited, Kate hadn’t spent much time with her before that weekend. She found her nice enough, but also felt a chill go down her spine when Rachel’s retorts lost their gusto, and when she dutifully retreated into the hotel bathroom to change into a pair of slacks. Her eyes had turned red around the rims by the time she emerged, and the bags beneath them became another travesty to lament.

Kate folded the blue dress over her arm, deciding she might as well wait to change until she was back at Juliet’s. Only ten past eleven, but no reason to put herself in such a vulnerable state even for a minute.

Something felt wrong to her the moment she went outside. The birds were still singing, the young ones squawking. She scanned around with her hair standing on end, like maybe Wayne was going to jump out from behind the shrub. But no cars had joined hers in the driveway. Most likely, another one wouldn’t even fit there. So she told herself she was being silly, and trotted down the steps to her truck.

It wasn’t until she had a hand on the door that she noticed what was amiss.

A little rabbit hollow—a patch of grass swept up like a nest—disturbed by her tire at the front, now-flattened edge. She gulped, and peered down into it against her better judgment, and her fear got proven true. All those soft, taupe tufts of fur, caught on blades of grass like hair in a comb. Another, larger tuft tucked down into the hollow, with a whole, tiny body to go with it. So still, that body. Too still.

There was no blood, no gruesome guts. Maybe the fright of the tires crackling against the gravel had been enough to startle it to death. Possibly it was already long gone, thanks to the chill in the air the previous night.

The chill that had driven her and Juliet to cling fast to each other beneath the covers, shivering and giggling with their feet tangled up. They easily could’ve found another blanket, or three. But the exhilaration of the chill had been too delicious. Juliet’s hitching breath as Kate’s hands drifted down her waist, far too delicious.

A painful lump swelled in Kate’s throat. Sparing more time was a risk she wasn’t too eager to take, but she couldn’t leave the rabbit there. Not when the death could have been her fault. Probably, it was—she felt the familiar pain of blame fissuring through her heart and ribs like spiderwebs.

And the idea of Wayne being the one to find it made her feel ill. So she tossed her dress into the cab, and searched around all the landscaping equipment for a shovel.

All she came up with was a hand trowel, but it would do. The rabbit was so small. Kate bit back a wail as she fell to her knees beside the whorl of grass, and with the edge of the trowel pierced the stubborn earth. Not frozen, but cold and compact all the way down. Every spoonful of soil took all her might to free.

Just before she reached for the rabbit, she hesitated. Instincts against touching a baby wild animal getting ahead of her rational mind. No risk, when there was nothing for its mother to come back to, anyway. She wondered if she would put together what had happened. If she would return, and sniff around, and trace her child to a grave. If she’d bother trying to dig it up.

A tear rolled down Kate’s cheek as she lifted the cold, soft form from the grass with shaking hands. Placed it carefully in the cradle-like hole she’d created, then filled the dirt back in.

Another tear, as she patted down the mound. But she couldn’t let the rest of them go. Not yet. After dinner, maybe.

She wiped as much of the dirt from her hands as she could before climbing into the truck. She could go inside, wash them off. Should, even, rather than get dead rabbit germs all over her truck and dress and Juliet’s doorknobs. But going back in the house was unbearable. So she drove with them still stained and gritty, the many small ridges in her palms gummed up with grime and grief.

Juliet was on her bed, lounging in her dress with a book in front of her. She looked up with a grin when Kate burst through the door.

“Did you know where the word ‘April’ comes from?” she said right away, then her face turned quizzical as Kate bypassed any form of a hello to drop her dress on the floor and beeline straight for her ensuite bathroom.

She turned on the water as high as it would go. Scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed her hands, getting so lost in the action that she jumped when she looked up to see Juliet’s concerned face hovering over her shoulder in the mirror. She tried to smile at her, but felt her chin quiver as she did. So she dropped the smile on the ground like something hot.

She couldn’t cry yet. Not yet. And when she looked at Juliet, all she could see was a dead baby rabbit, tucked up into itself in a place where it should’ve been safe. All she could feel were the spiderweb faults propagating. Down her arms and legs, spiraling around her neck.

She shut the water and paused with her hand on the faucet. Eyes fixed downward.

Deep breath in. But it didn’t feel like it reached the bottom of her lungs.

“Are you okay?” murmured Juliet, putting a hand on her back. Kate cringed away from it, and without looking up she slipped out of the small bathroom into the bright airiness of Juliet’s room. No mist or haze cloaked her house. Only the clear, pale gleam of springtime sun.

Kate glanced around. Juliet’s book, still open on the bed. Stacks of fresh-smelling laundry on her dresser. The sweet vintage wallpaper, covered over with tiny vines in patterns Kate liked to trace with her finger while she waited for Juliet to wake up.

Since the first time she’d entered it, Juliet’s room had been her favorite place. Somewhere safer than safe, where nothing could reach her.

Suddenly, she felt like she didn’t belong there.

Suddenly, she felt like she’d ruin it, somehow, if she didn’t get out.

She picked up her dress from the floor, and opened her mouth meaning to say yes, she was okay.

Meaning to say, no, she didn’t know where the word ‘April’ came from, but she wanted to know. She wanted to hear every new thing Juliet learned for the rest of her life.

Instead, she said, “I think we should break up.”

The dress was balled up in her hands, getting more wrinkled by the second.

Juliet laughed, not waiting for the punchline. Kate said nothing else, and by the time Juliet’s laugh fizzled out the light had drained from her eyes.

“What?” she said. Her voice was distant. Hesitant. Like if it wasn’t a joke, then she had to be hearing things.

Kate was asking herself the same sort of hesitant question, but she couldn’t deny that as soon as she’d said the words the cracking feeling in her chest had abated.

That had to mean they were right, right? That she’d really meant them. She took a deep breath, and it stuck.

“I, um. Yeah. I think we should break up.”

“Why?”

Then Kate’s mind went blank. She opened her mouth, watching as Juliet’s lifeless eyes filled with tears.

Then her stomach curdled.

“Just… things haven’t felt right. For awhile.”

Juliet sniffed, and sank onto her bed. Looking down at her hands, fingers snarled together in her lap. She was tugging hard on her knuckles. “How long?”

Kate felt the ruined edges of herself spreading throughout the room, just as she feared they would. She couldn’t keep playing twenty questions. None of her answers would help. None of them would make this any better.

“I have to go,” she said, mostly to herself. She drifted toward the door.

Juliet’s eyes snapped to her. “No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “No!”

Forget those little fault lines. Forget the fantasy that they might abate. Kate’s whole chest was splitting open, wide like a chasm. “Juliet,” she pleaded.

“No,” Juliet repeated, hissing out the word. She was shaking. “You can’t just do that. You can’t break up with me—you’re my valentine!”

Then she started crying in earnest—loud and ugly, with her head thrown backwards. Hands still clasped together, almost like she was praying.

Kate yearned to put her arms around her. To take back all she’d said, to unwind the morning and return to where she’d been when dawn had broken. There in the bed where Juliet sobbed, wrapped up in nothing but warmth. The lovely weight of her draping arm. How wide her chest swelled with each slow breath she drew in.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. Such useless words that they tasted bitter in her mouth. They would do nothing, she knew. From the way Juliet’s sobs began to shudder, they might’ve even made it worse.

She put a hand on the doorknob.

“Please don’t go,” Juliet gasped. Arms wrapped around herself now, shoulders curled forward. Maybe her chest was at risk of breaking apart, too.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. She looked back one more time before she tore out the door, shutting it fast. Pausing for a moment, almost wishing for Juliet to wrench it open, come after her.

But she didn’t—only the sounds she was making banged against it. Desperate, aching sounds that seemed to peel back Kate’s skin one excruciating inch at a time.

Rachel came out of her room, the kind expression of greeting on her face melting away at the sight of Kate, the awful sounds.

“What happened?” she asked, and as Kate shook her head Rachel approached her with a hand outstretched.

Kate pushed around her, jogging down the stairs toward the front door that no one used. Unwilling to face the rest of Juliet’s family, who would still all be in the kitchen. Then she felt an extra stab of guilt, since it was supposed to be a joyous day. A day for things being brought back to life. She heard the trills of pleasant chatter, smelled the ham cooking.

Another dead animal.

Birds were singing in the shrubs outside Juliet’s front door, too. Kate paused on the front step, listening to them for a moment while she tried to put her finger on the strange swirling feeling in her head.

Then with a gasp she clutched the hand holding her dress to her stomach, and hunched over to vomit into the shrub.

The birds went quiet, and she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

Her truck struggled to start back up. Again she thought that she should’ve left it running, before realizing that she would’ve had to know how things would go when she arrived, in order to think of that.

And she hadn’t known, had she?

She would’ve done everything different, if she had. She would’ve held Juliet as she cried. She would’ve offered her a real explanation. She would’ve come up with a real explanation for herself.

It didn't matter, something told her. She would've ruined everything either way. So she headed back to her dad’s. That was the closest thing she had to a home, she supposed, now that she’d wrecked the only real one she’d ever known.

* * * * *

Now:

It was like before, there’d been something on fire inside Kate. Not a fire lovely and warm, but raging. Searing and sharp. And she hadn’t had any idea how badly it hurt, how much of her flesh was being consumed by it. Not until the licking flames were finally quenched.

The two of them moved like water moving in and of itself. Free of obstacles, unbound. Juliet on top of Kate, then suddenly they were diagonal on the bed, feet dangling off the side. Kicking, as if propelling a current. Beneath the covers, then above them. Then Kate tucked back into Juliet, both of them on their side. Eyes rolling back in her head as two cool hands streamed over every inch of her they could reach. Mouth wide around the edge of her shoulder, one cool hand dipping between her legs, making her whimper. Making her head angle, drawing a quick arch of her back.

Scraping teeth, soothing tongue. Sighing breath. Whisper rushing in her ear, pressing like a need: “Come for me.”

Kate, doing what Juliet asked of her for a change. And she made it so easy. So easy, the way her fingers glided and gleamed. Over and over Kate said her name, crying out in near desperation. Voice straining, then hoarse, then the last repetition was just her lips moving around the shape of three silent syllables.

Juliet hummed, sounding satisfied. Flowed back on top of Kate, back where she’d started. Rippling on top of her thigh, and Kate held onto her hips, steering her. Being steered. She shimmied backwards bit by bit, reclined against the pile of pillows that had gotten thrown all together at one end of the headboard.

She watched Juliet. The undulations of her body, the revelation of her skin as she crossed her arms to grab hold of her shirt’s hem, the shedding of it all in one go. For a moment, she watched the slight bouncing of her chest, the tightening of her nipples. But that proved not to be enough, so she sat up taller, met them with her mouth. Tried to make the scraping teeth and soothing tongue her own, and Juliet moaned. Tossed her head back, hair cascading behind her.

Kate tensed her thigh, jostled it from side to side. “Uh huh,” Juliet agreed, and she reached a hand between them, cupping Kate through her underwear. Light as could be, but she was still so sensitive, and she whined around Juliet’s breast. Soaked through her fabric as the heel of Juliet’s hand pressed into her gently, feeling the edges of her thigh get slippery. Two arms eddying across Juliet’s spine, pulling her close.

Then closer. Feeling every twitch resonate through all the rivulets Juliet could name. All the way out to the tips of her fingers, and she wanted Juliet to feel them there, too. So she freed one arm, and with one finger tugged Juliet’s underwear to the side, rubbed a ripple of her own. Quick little gasp. Another request—come with me. Kate felt it in her navel, felt it gush between her legs. Felt the stutter against her fingertip, felt her own hips reach into the palm of Juliet’s hand.

Their lips locked together, two resonant moans ringing in the space around their palates and teeth and tongues. Long breaths let out, neither hand moving away.

For ages they stayed like that, drinking each other. Feeling each other. The sun rose on their undying thirst, but no light reached through the curtains.

Then Juliet sprung up suddenly, bounding across the room to throw them open wide. Letting in not the dawn itself, but its pink reflection off the glass building across the street.

Kate threw her hand up over her eyes to block the light. She grinned.

“Everyone in those offices is gonna see us.”

“Let them,” chirped Juliet as she flopped back onto the bed. She beamed and shifted up to sit beside Kate, head falling onto her shoulder. “It’s still early, anyway.”

Early was a loaded word, on the other side of the last sunrise they’d spend together. Kate felt its hopeful weight crushing against her chest. She reached across herself to caress Juliet’s hair with her hand, angling a little to the side so she could see her better. The room was lighter than it’d been yet, and she wanted to absorb every contour, wrinkle, and curve of her face while she had the chance to.

Her eyes danced over all the places they could, landing on an angry-looking pimple that had sprouted near her temple. Kate smiled as her thumb brushed over it.

Juliet lifted her head slightly, and let out a sigh. “Yeah, I saw that in the bathroom. Too much junk food, probably.”

“It’s cute.”

“Yeah, sure,” she laughed.

“I mean it,” said Kate, moving her hand beneath Juliet’s chin so she could tip her face upwards. “Reminds me that you’re real.”

She leaned down, reaching toward Juliet’s mouth with hers. But suddenly Juliet jerked back.

“I am real,” she said firmly, staring hard. “Just because my life’s not some big adventure doesn’t mean I’m not real.”

Twice Kate opened and closed her mouth, but nothing came out either time.

“I—I know,” she finally stammered. “I didn’t mean—I was kidding.”

Juliet shook her head, and sat up straighter as she crossed her arms over her chest. Pulling away just enough to make Kate’s heart pick up nervously.

“I don’t think you were. I think you keep me in a little box in your head, and you forget that I don’t live there.”

“No—” Kate started, before scrunching her brow together and cutting herself off mid-thought.

Maybe she did view Juliet that way. But what else was she supposed to do, when the only person she’d spoken to in years who really knew her was the man trying to trap her like an animal? When she rarely slept for more than an hour or two at a time, after so many sudden departures made in the middle of the night because nondescript blue lights flashed by the window?

Then the rest of Juliet’s words caught up to her.

“Hang on—is that what you think my life is? A ‘big adventure?’” She let out a hollow laugh. “Jesus Christ, Juliet. You have no fucking clue.”

Juliet didn’t respond for a long moment, but the twitching of her jaw was enough to make Kate fear what would come when she did.

“That’s me, isn’t it?” she said finally, in a low, cold voice. “Clueless Juliet! Too naive to hear the real story, so I get the watered-down version. And then chastised for it. Too useless to help with anything important, so I have to read about Wayne in the paper. Read the big story about Kate Austen—At Large in the fucking paper.” She scoffed. “Trust me, if you’d told me about him like you promised you would, you wouldn’t have had to go on the run in the first place. I’m dead sure about that.”

“You’re not…” Kate shook her head in disbelief. “Juliet, we were kids. I didn’t think you actually meant it.”

“You meant it.”

“That’s different.”

Juliet uncrossed her arms, and turned to face Kate with exhaustion etched into her face. “Why, Kate? Why is it different?”

“Because it wasn’t your problem. You didn’t deserve to get sucked in.”

Her gaze turned icy. “You don’t get to tell me what I deserve. Not when I’ve heard nothing from you, for years. Not when I’m supposed to go right back to forgetting you exist in—” She peeked past Kate toward the clock. “—what, not even twelve hours? Probably less, because you’ll probably sneak out while I’m in the shower or something. I can’t imagine I’ll get a goodbye this time, since that’s another thing I don’t deserve, clearly.”

Kate sucked in a long breath, but it didn’t do anything to quell the black hole of a pit gnawing in her stomach.

“You asked me to come here. You asked me to stay.”

“You say that like you didn’t stalk me for a month.”

The volume of her voice climbed, and Kate wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Juliet speak in the tone she was taking. Indignant, yes. Righteous. Cold. Even disdainful. But never angry. That was Kate’s arena. Hearing it from Juliet felt like watching a horse walk on its hind legs.

She felt herself shrinking away from it. She felt herself craving it.

“And yet again, you give me nothing! No explanation, and who gives a shit that it’s my life on the line now? Since I’m not even real, apparently. The cops won’t even be able to catch me, right? I’ll just slip through their fingers like a fucking ghost.”

“They won’t bother you,” said Kate. “No one cares as much as Edward—I mean, the marshal—”

“Oh yeah, let’s talk about Edward.” She spat out his name. “The one person you have no problem talking to on the phone, for some goddamn reason. Thank you, by the way, for leading him right to my front door.”

“You asked me to stay!” said Kate again, more desperately. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did.” She softened, and the corners of her eyes drew down as she reached toward Kate. Running a hand up and down her arm. “You show up out of the blue in a stolen car, looking like you haven’t slept right for a year, and what? I just send you on your way?”

“I didn’t mean for all this to happen,” Kate said, agitation growing through her like a weed. “I wasn’t even expecting to see you—I just wanted to be near you one more time, before I left.” She swallowed. “Before I left for good.”

Juliet blinked in time to the beat of silence that passed, and the hand she had on Kate’s arm squeezed tighter. “What do you mean, ‘for good?’”

Kate rubbed a hand over her face, and looked up at the ceiling before she spoke. “I got papers—good ones. Fake ones. I’m leaving the country. First Canada, and after that, I don’t know. Maybe Bali.”

“Bali.”

“I can’t keep escaping the way I have been. It’s always so close—it’s just a matter of time before my luck runs out. I have to get somewhere I can live forever.”

Juliet let go of Kate’s arm, but moved closer as she put a hand on the back of her neck. Threading her fingers up into her hair, trying in vain to meet her eyes. A sad smile flickered across her mouth.

“Live here forever,” she said quietly. “Live with me forever.”

“Juliet…” said Kate, aiming for a warning. It came out too soft.

But it didn’t matter either way, because Juliet was already wrapping two arms around her neck. Already kissing the side of her head. And Kate could feel her very last ounce of resolve slipping away, as if it were being driven out by the mist clouding her eyes.

“Please, Katie,” she sighed, moving to kiss her forehead, her nose, her mouth. The tears streaming down her cheeks. “God, I missed you so much—please don’t leave me again. Please don’t go.”

Kate held on tightly to her. Felt her start to shake as she started crying, too, and then that last ounce was gone. Nowhere to be found, taking off with the same sudden swiftness Kate herself had taken off by foot or bus or stolen car time and time again.

She tucked her forehead against Juliet’s shoulder, breathing her in as deeply as she could. “I love you,” she sobbed. “I love you, but I can’t stay.”

“Why not?” Juliet said as she loosened her grip to lift Kate's face from her shoulder, cradling it in her hands. “Why can’t you try? You said they don’t even care about catching you, other than that creep. And who knows how many rules he’s breaking?”

Kate sniffed. “It’s not that they don’t care. They just care the regular amount. I’m still facing serious fucking charges, Juliet. Murder charges.”

“They won’t be able to pin that on you without your mom.”

“Oh, so now you’re a lawyer, too?”

Juliet rolled her eyes, but tilted her head to the side sympathetically.

“No. I don’t know. Anything could happen. But about half the town would get on the stand for you, if you asked. Everyone hated Wayne. Everyone knew what he was like. And sure, maybe you’d get some jail time. But at least when it was done, you’d be done. If you never try, you’ll never really be free. No matter where you go, even if you stay put. That can't be better.”

Kate felt her heart thumping, tripping erratically. She couldn’t think about it. It was too brilliant, the idea of everything being over. All the suffering Wayne had caused, behind her. Nothing but a speck in the rearview mirror. Even that imagined speck hurt, beaming into the backs of her eyes like she was staring at the sun.

“If your mom won’t give a statement, and the whole town comes to your defense, I just don’t see how the vendetta of one agent is going to tip the scales.”

“It won’t,” said Kate, her voice small but firm. Juliet narrowed her eyes. Before she could respond, Kate finished her thought all in a rush, like the words were erupting out of her. “And he won’t bother you when I’m gone either, okay? Because he’s dead.”

Juliet made a sound in the back of her throat like a strangled half-laugh. “I’m sorry, what?”

Kate tried to wrench her face away from Juliet’s hands, but she only held on tighter. Eyes finding hers no matter which way she looked, her gaze incisive as the edge of a knife.

She sighed. “He’s dead, okay? He was in a plane crash, last fall. Flying to get to me.”

Probably it was better not to allude to the guilt she felt due to that. Probably Juliet would pick up on it, anyway.

Juliet’s mouth fell open, and she shook her head as she finally looked away. “I’m just…” Her hands went limp, and Kate clapped hers over them before they could fall from her face. Suddenly the idea of being free of her was unbearable. “I don’t understand.”

Kate said nothing, and Juliet kept shaking her head.

“I don’t understand,” she said again. Quieter, almost inaudible. “You say you’re worried about your luck running out, but you seem pretty damn lucky.”

She let out another half-laugh.

“What are you even running from, Kate?”

“I don’t know.”

It wasn’t true. She could see in Juliet’s eyes that she knew it wasn’t true. But for the moment she relented, and nodded, and wrapped two arms around Kate’s neck again.

“Love you, too,” said Juliet, smiling into her shoulder.

Kate leaned into her, and let herself wonder if she stood a real chance of going home. It certainly felt close enough to touch.

Notes:

if you read this in one sitting you’re stronger than i am lmao

Chapter 13: Twelve

Then:

Next Sunday, just past seven in the evening.

Kate’s phone buzzed. Right on schedule.

She turned on her stomach, buried her face in the pillow.

Right on schedule, she wished she’d turned her phone off.

Right on schedule, she remembered she almost had. But of course she’d chickened out, right on schedule.

Her dad called up—dinner was ready. She ignored him, and he called again. She ignored him again, and he let her.

When she’d arrived there the previous Sunday, he hadn’t yet returned from his fishing trip. Almost the whole day she was alone. Numb above all; grateful by a shred for the solitude. Numb, apart from the forty minutes or so she spent cooking herself alive in the scalding shower. No one around to bother her about using up all the hot water.

No one around to hear the shriek she let out, during the long last minute or two she forced herself to stay beneath the spurting stream after it turned icy.

When she emerged her skin shone like a maraschino cherry, puffy and swollen to an almost painful degree. She didn’t bother drying off. Didn’t want to risk seeing herself in the mirror.

Into bed she climbed, pajamas clinging to her skin.

And there she stayed.

Time passed by. Where it went, she couldn’t say. Sleep came like restless, sudden fists that grabbed her by the shoulders. Dunking her deep and fast below the surface, into dreams of Juliet—Juliet laughing. Glowing. Flying away like a bird. Out of sight, out of reach.

All Kate wanted was to touch her.

All she wanted was to talk to her.

Every night around dinnertime, she got a text from her.

That text filled her up like a nine-course meal. So eating an actual dinner, out of the question. Lunch was a gamble. She stayed militant about breakfast, though. She figured maybe it really was most important.

Her dad left early for work—just a smidge past dawn. Every morning, Kate was already awake when he did. So she waited for the sound of the garage door closing, then she shuffled to the kitchen.

There, she tore a banana from the browning bunch on the counter, chewing it mechanically while she stared out the window.

After that, back to bed. Pull the covers over her face. Spend the rest of the day doing little beyond waiting for the dinnertime text of Juliet’s that she wouldn’t answer.

The first night, Juliet had called plenty. Only a brief gasp of silence between each long, lonely ring of Kate’s phone. She’d stared at it the whole time. Made herself stare at it the whole time.

One more call the next afternoon, after Juliet had gotten back to campus. Kate knew that only because she left a message. None had been left the night before, and the gravelly sound of her recorded voice made it seem like that was for the best.

What good did it do, to dodge the bullet of Juliet’s agony? It lurked inside her anyway. She felt it grind in her joints every time she moved.

That was the last time Juliet called. The first dinnertime text came that evening.

Can we please talk?

The next:

If I did something wrong, I’m sorry. You can tell me.

And the next:

I must have, right?

And the next:

Because I’ve barely gone a day without talking to you for half my life, and now it’s been four, so. Yeah.

And the next:

You know what? Fuck you, actually.

(Kate almost responded to that one, just to say she agreed.)

And the last one:

Sorry. That was mean. Please talk to me, Kate.

And now:

Phone still buzzing. Kate looked out at it with one leery eye, watched it skate a circle around her nightstand.

Maybe a week was long enough. Maybe she’d slept back enough strength to stop dodging the bullet.

She grabbed the phone, clicked on the flashing notification.

Too late, she realized it was a call.

Oh, god, she thought, staring at the screen without registering any of the information it displayed. Hang up!

Just before she could, a voice cut short the pause that had been droning. “Hello?”

Rachel’s voice. Rachel’s name on the screen, now registering.

Kate didn’t have the guts to hang up on Rachel. Cautiously she held the phone a few inches away from her head—just in case the initiating volume came through at a decibel beyond that which her eardrums could withstand. Then she sucked in a long breath.

“Hi."

Rachel laughed without humor. “Okay, great—glad to hear you’re alive. See you around, I guess.”

“Wait,” she cut in. “Is Juliet okay?”

Another laugh—almost mean. It shriveled her up.

“What do you think?”

Kate said nothing.

“If you want to know, maybe you should ask her.”

Then she hung up.

Kate thought about calling Juliet—really, she did. But she had nothing useful to offer. And surely if they didn’t talk, she couldn’t inflict any more damage.

* * * * *

Then:

The grocery store speakers trilled the opening bars of a Joni Mitchell track. The one that sounded like “Jingle Bells” at the beginning. From the very first note Kate knew it was a fake out.

How many times had Juliet played that album?

Enough that hearing it felt like muscle memory.

Like tying her shoes. Like Juliet’s hand in hers.

God, Juliet.

Eight months later, and thinking of her still knocked Kate out on impact. A different kind of muscle memory—an old wound on a damp day.

They still hadn’t spoken, but Kate heard her everywhere. Smelled her everywhere. Saw her everywhere.

Like there, in the grocery store. Some lookalike, striding ahead into the milk aisle.

No, wait… maybe that really was her.

Kate grabbed hold of James’ wrist, pulling him behind a towering shelf of chocolate Santas.

“What?” he said, huffing out the word in exasperation.

She shushed him. “I think I just saw Juliet.”

“You said that at the bookstore, too.”

She peeked out around the Santa tower, just in time to see maybe-Juliet transform into definitely-Juliet as she re-surfaced from the milk aisle, carrying three cartons of butter.

“I was right! She’s coming this way!”

James yanked his arm away. “Well, then I’m gonna go say hi.”

“What? No!”

“What d’you mean, ‘no?’” he laughed. “I’m goin’.”

“James!” she hissed, but it was too late. He trotted out to catch up with Juliet, sneakers squeaking fast against the tile floor.

Kate didn’t dare another peek.

When James returned, he was chewing on a Hershey kiss. Juliet must have given it to him.

Kate fought to stamp down an itchy wave of envy, feeling about two years old.

“You didn’t tell her I was here, did you?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re bein’ dramatic, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“Whatever,” he said. “Rachel’s doin’ well, by the way.”

She stared blankly at him, and shrugged. “Okay?”

He stopped chewing the Hershey’s kiss. The teeth-mark scraped, uneaten half of it melted like silk against his fingers.

“You don’t know?”

Kate furrowed her brow, and her stomach turned over. “Know what?”

“She’s got cancer. Started chemo the other week.”

Without thinking she bolted out from the shelf, craning her neck to see over the people crowding the checkout aisles. Juliet was at the end, smiling kindly at the person scanning her butter.

“You really didn’t know?” came James’ voice from behind her.

She shook her head, not daring to take her eyes off Juliet until she was gone. Even if she looked up.

She didn’t, though. And suddenly all Kate could see was golden hair, blown back by the wind billowing through the sliding glass doors.

After they’d located the last of the items on Frank’s list, Kate directed them to the same checkout aisle Juliet had chosen. She told herself she could still feel her there, could sense the remnants of her kind smile in the wearier one the cashier gave to them.

“Y’all are even worse than I thought,” James chided after they’d paid, calling to Kate from a few yards back. He was steering the shopping cart in a meandering, curlicue route through the busy parking lot, and he kept getting yelled at by rightfully-frustrated drivers.

She smirked as she called back to him over her shoulder. “Big talk from someone who promised I’d be moved in months ago, since it’d be—and I quote—‘a mere matter ‘a days before a certain someone asked you to start bunkin’ together—hint, hint.’”

Imitating his accent made her burst into giggles, and made James take a direct route with the cart. He nipped at her heels with it like a puppy, even bumping once into the back of her ankle.

“Ow!” she whined, bending down to rub her tendon while she hop-skipped to get ahead of him. “What was that for?”

“For not mindin’ your own damn business.”

“Well, touché.”

They reached James’ car. The cart was full to the brim, and stuffing all the bags into the small trunk felt like playing Tetris.

“Least me and Mike are talkin’,” he said pointedly, letting out a grunt as he crushed one bag down to wedge another on top of it. Hopefully neither was the one with the eggs.

Kate put all she had behind the glowering look she gave him. It must have done the trick, because he didn’t bring Juliet up again until well after the holidays.

* * * * *

Then:

Word got around one way or another, so Kate really didn’t have to talk to Juliet.

So she told herself, when she heard through the grapevine the following spring that Juliet would be finishing college a year early. Splitting the difference between most of her classmates’ prospective timelines and the half-joking prediction Kate had once made.

She could easily stay aware of Juliet’s big to-do’s and milestones without facing her. Simple enough, to tend the grapevine according to her needs. To find out with a sudden swell of forlorn pride that Juliet had gotten into medical school. To find out with a punch to the gut that she’d decided on UCLA. Another punch, to find out she’d be leaving town a full month before the semester started.

Midway through May, Kate returned to the source hoping to find out more precisely when Juliet would be leaving. Why she cared so much, she didn’t dare dwell on. It seemed like a pipe dream to imagine that she’d actually attempt to speak to her. But there was something fresh within the notion of her departure, of how soon she’d be existing so very far away. Something almost like bravery.

So there she stood in the bakery, hovering off to the side while Hugo finished boxing up a cake for an impatient women with stiff white hair.

Finally she left, but not before making a disappointed clucking sound.

Kate raised her eyebrows as she leaned her elbows on the glass countertop, but Hugo just shrugged.

“Can’t please ‘em all, I guess.”

She smiled sweetly at him, and he sighed.

“I haven’t heard anything else, Kate. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She paid for one of the cupcakes on display and made for the door.

Hugo’s voice rang out just after the little bell.

“I’m sure Juliet hasn’t, like, changed her number or anything,” he said. “You could call her?”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled again. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Down the steps she went, tugging her jacket around herself as tight as she could get it. Summer couldn’t come soon enough. She’d gotten her motorcycle in March, and though the weather had improved significantly since the raw days she spent learning to ride it, she still usually ended her rides with chattering teeth and goosebumps peppered all over her arms.

She swung one leg over the seat and finished her cupcake. Then she lifted back the kickstand and pulled out onto the street. It went much more smoothly than usual.

Wind whipped the proud smile off her face right away, blowing her loose hair into the spot of frosting she’d left at the corner of her mouth.

She spat air out her mouth ineffectually, near-desperate to free the nagging strand. But removing a hand from the handlebars while she was in motion still felt too dangerous.

Finally she made it to a red light, and as soon as she skidded to a less-than-graceful stop she swatted at her chin.

The cold was enough of a nuisance to keep track of. She kept forgetting that she had to tie her hair back to go anywhere.

Wearing a helmet would’ve helped, of course.

If only she’d been wearing her helmet.

Because when she looked up and saw Juliet standing on the next block with her arms crossed, she didn’t have a single thing to duck behind—not even a visor.

And even from afar, she knew that look.

The motorcycle itself, bad enough. The motorcycle without a helmet? Well, that was a death wish in more ways than one.

She cursed under her breath. Light still red. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. All she could do was avert her eyes and pretend she couldn’t feel the heat of Juliet’s glare burning into her.

The second the light turned green she hit the throttle, and peeled away on a wrong turn just so she could avoid driving right past the molten core of that glare.

It didn’t stop her from getting one last glance, since her head twisted back automatically just before Juliet passed out of view. Up a bit closer, her glare didn’t seem so scary. But she made up for it, with a slow and disappointed shake of her head.

When Kate got home, she wasn’t surprised to see the first text she'd gotten from Juliet in over a year flashing on her phone.

Not just one, either—four of them.

I wonder if you’ll finally listen when I’m a doctor.

Probably not. Who am I kidding?

Anyway. At LEAST wear a fucking helmet, okay???

OKAY???

Kate gulped, then stood still. Heart hammering. Hand gripping her phone.

Soon, Juliet would be gone. All the way across the country. Far enough that talking to her hadn’t felt so scary. Had felt almost necessary. And here was her chance.

And she didn’t want to get another call from Rachel. Not now. It would make her feel too bad. Too guilty.

Very slowly she typed her response, and her thumb hovered over the send button for a long moment before she tapped it. Hard. Deliberately.

Fine. You win.

There’d been no doubt in her mind that whenever she finally reached out, Juliet would be waiting.

But she watched and watched and watched her phone, and a reply never came.

* * * * *

Then:

Four years later. A text on Kate’s birthday one year, but not the next. A friendly wave and a smile exchanged when she and her dad drove by Juliet on a run last July.

Once, a pocket dial in the middle of Juliet’s exam, that Kate didn’t see until after she was done with work. For hours she’d debated whether to return the call, and while she was in the middle of deciding she got a text from Juliet explaining. Apologizing for the inconvenience.

Don’t apologize, Kate yearned to say in response. Every wish I make is to hear from you.

Instead she said, No worries :)

That was two winters ago. The winter she, Michael, and James spent bundled up day in and day out. The apartment’s heat technically not broken, but not quite functional, either. Landlord said he’d fix it, then didn’t. The tips of Kate’s fingers had turned white in the time she spent agonizing over that text.

Now, her world teetered on the full, green edge of spring. Summer raged behind it with a vengeance, making Kate splay out like a starfish atop her bedcovers. The apartment was stuffier than it was hot, but the end result was the same—sleep eluding her. Taunting her.

She found herself wishing for winter to come around again (conveniently forgetting the times she’d shivered herself awake, even during winters where the heat was functioning at full capacity). It was late already, and she had an early class the next day.

Just as her eyelids grew heavy enough to close against the still, close air, the sound of her phone snapped them back open.

She caught sight of Juliet’s name and clutched around it like a reflex. Clutched the picture she still couldn’t bear to remove from her contact card—a glare-ridden snapshot taken of a old film photo. Juliet at the Miami aquarium with her front teeth missing, grinning so hard it almost looked like a grimace.

Kate wondered if she was dreaming.

Even in Los Angeles, it was well past exam hours.

It could still be an accidental call though, she cautioned herself. Maybe Juliet was out with friends.

Maybe she was hurt.

The same second Kate had that thought, she was picking up the call.

“Kate?” came Juliet’s frantic voice, rushing in before Kate could say anything.

Her heart pounded. “Yeah. Hi.”

“Hi. Um, I’m sorry to call so late.”

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I was up, anyway.”

“Are you home?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, um, I’m sure I’m overreacting… it’s just.” She drew in a breath. “Rachel had chemo today, and she didn’t check in after. Dad’s out of town, so she had to go alone. And now she’s not picking up.”

Kate was up across the room, throwing on a t-shirt to pair with the hole-ridden gym shorts she’d worn to bed.

“Is she at your house?”

“She should be. She probably just fell asleep or something.”

“I’m on my way, okay?” She grabbed her keys off the kitchen table and shut the back door as quietly as she could. “I’ll call you after I talk to her.”

“Okay,” said Juliet weakly.

Kate hung up before either of them had a chance to say goodbye.

It wasn’t goodbye, anyway. She’d call her after she talked to Rachel.

She made it there in close to record time. The route to their hometown was one Kate knew like the back of her hand, and at that hour the roads were empty. Suddenly she was grateful for the unseasonably warm night, since she hadn’t grabbed anything to wear over her t-shirt.

As soon as she pulled into the driveway she could see there was a light on inside, but she’d told Juliet she’d talk to Rachel. So she mustered all her courage to knock on the door.

Music playing. Another good sign.

Another light switched on in the mud room. Then Rachel appeared, a batter-drenched wooden spoon held tight in her fist. Kate could see her sparse eyebrows going up through the door’s antique, wavy glass. Like two patchy little inchworms.

Her hair was halfway to falling out on her head, too. The thin remaining strands were gathered into a haphazard knot on top of her head.

She’d seen Rachel around, here and there. Had heard recounts of her many trials from James and Sun. But she looked sicker up close, visibly so even through the distorted panel.

For a moment they stared at each other, and Kate worried that she wouldn’t let her in.

But she grinned, and flung the door open.

“Hey!” she said eagerly. “Thank God you’re here.”

Kate opened her mouth just as Rachel yanked her through the door by the arm.

Stumbling into Juliet’s house was like entering a time machine. The familiar, particular scent nearly knocked Kate off her feet, walloping her with one memory after another. She felt glad for Rachel’s surprisingly robust grip, dragging her fast into the kitchen.

The spoon got shoved into her hand, and Rachel bent over the oven to remove a tray of brownies.

“You’re supposed to let them cool, but I don’t want to,” said Rachel, waving a butter knife in the air before she scored a grid inside the pan. Then she lifted one square and pinched it in her fingers, taking a big bite that made her smile and screech all at once.

“You’re taking half of these, by the way,” she huffed out around her bite. “I doubled the recipe without realizing.”

Kate stared at her. “Um, okay.”

Once she’d finished wolfing down the brownie Rachel stomped around, searching for a container. Suddenly Kate remembered what she was doing there. She dropped the spoon in the sink, and Rachel looked up at the clatter it made.

“That was for you,” she said. “I’m not allowed to eat raw stuff like that.”

“I don’t think it’s good for me, either."

“Huh. Guess you’re right.” She had her shoulder lodged inside a low cupboard, feeling around with a determined expression. “Ah!”

She loaded half the brownies into the tub she’d found, and steam quickly clouded the clear inner wall once the lid was on.

Kate shifted on her feet as she accepted them. Cleared her throat. “So are you, um, okay?”

For a moment Rachel gaped at her, then recognition clicked her features into place. She groaned. “Fuck. I didn’t call Juliet earlier, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” said Kate with a sympathetic smile. Another time, she and Rachel might've commiserated about Juliet and her fearful antics. But just then, it didn't feel right to.

“Well, feel free to report back that I’m just fine. Better than fine, really.” She shot Kate a devilish look and held up a finger while she dug in her pocket. Then she held up a joint in the air, displaying it proudly like a hard-won prize. “Want some? It’s good stuff—medical grade.”

“That’s okay,” said Kate. “I’ve gotta drive home.”

Rachel shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

They exchanged goodbyes that felt so normal they left Kate standing beside her motorcycle in a daze. Half of her was still stuck inside that time machine, back in the kitchen with Rachel. Primed for Juliet to enter the room at any moment. To argue that the brownies were undercooked, since she liked the edges crispy. To wrap her hands around Kate’s waist, place her chin on her shoulder, and press a soft kiss to her neck. To make Rachel roll her eyes, call them disgusting. To giggle in return, and give Kate another smacking, rebellious kiss—on the mouth, this time.

Kate drew in a slow gasp, reeling back like she’d been shoved. The past lashed against her, but she couldn’t go back to the present yet. So she tucked the container under her arm and spanned the dewy lawn toward the big tree in the corner, settling onto a low-hanging branch.

With one of the brownies held in her mouth, she navigated back to the picture of Juliet with her front teeth missing. She looked at it until it made her chest hurt too much to take. Then she called her.

Several times her phone rang, and Kate was struck with a sudden fear that she’d misinterpreted the situation somehow. That calling Juliet was the wrong thing, even though it was exactly what she said she’d do.

But her tone was grateful when she answered, if a bit impatient. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” said Kate. “Yeah, she forgot. I just talked to her.”

“What took so long?” she snapped. Then regret tinged the sigh she let out afterward.

Kate furrowed her brow, fighting the impulse to assuage Juliet’s unspoken apology. “Well, um. I had to drive here.” Then she realized Juliet didn’t know where she lived, and her chest started hurting again. “From James’ place. Uh, my place. I live there, too.”

“Oh, god,” she said breathily. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to make you go all that way. I thought you’d be in town.”

Kate shrugged as she chewed, even though Juliet wasn’t there to see it. She tucked her bite into the back of her cheek like a chipmunk before she spoke, even though Juliet wasn’t there to tell her she didn’t want to see her food.

“My dad’s isn’t that much closer.”

“Right.” She paused. “Wow, yeah. I guess I always picture you being right down the road.” Another pause. “Are you eating something? Your voice sounds muffled.”

“Yeah—Rachel made brownies. She gave me half. So don’t feel bad—I was well-compensated for my efforts.”

Juliet gasped. “You're not back home already, are you?”

“No, I’m still outside your house. Why?”

“Oh my god, Kate! You need to go, now! What if those have weed in them?”

“You’re so paranoid,” said Kate with a roll of her eyes. Another thing Juliet couldn’t see. “I don’t think Rachel would give me anything like that without telling me what they were.”

“She’s probably been high all day. She might’ve forgotten.”

Kate threw her head back laughing, spewing out brownie crumbs.

“How long do they take to kick in?” she asked once she'd managed to swallow her bite without choking.

“I don’t know,” said Juliet with a sigh. “Like an hour?”

She broke off half of another brownie and stuffed it in her mouth. “Maybe I’ll just wait here. And if I still feel normal after awhile, I’ll know I’m good.”

“Or you could go back in and ask Rachel.”

“Too scary.”

Juliet laughed, and Kate felt herself melt inside.

“Okay, well I’ll stay on the phone with you. Then if you start feeling weird, I'll help you get inside. I’m sure Rachel wouldn’t mind if you stayed over—you just might have to break in, if she passes out. But it's easy.”

“Don’t you have stuff to do?” said Kate, trying to ignore the heartrending idea of spending the night at Juliet’s house without Juliet there.

Hopefully she really was being paranoid.

“Not tonight. I was at the hospital all day, and I have tomorrow off.”

“What about classes?”

“Oh, I’m done with those. Just wrapping up clinical hours before graduation.”

“Oh yeah,” said Kate. “I’d say congratulations, but really I’m shocked it took you the full four years.”

Another laugh.

A self-deprecating remark.

A complaint about med school.

Another complaint about med school.

And from there, it all came so easily. Plenty of things left unsaid, but they worked around them.

Every new morsel Kate plucked out of Juliet’s life got secured in her fist. Plunged into her pockets for safekeeping. For so long she’d been starved. It took all her willpower not to engulf them at once, swallowed down alongside her second brownie (then her third, and then—later on, after it became clear that Juliet was as paranoid as ever—her fourth).

Juliet hated Los Angeles. It was always foggy in the mornings, and no one knew how to drive in the rain. Not to mention that snow was completely out of the question, unless you went up to the mountains. And Juliet didn’t have much time to do things like that.

Juliet planned to specialize in obstetrics, and the residency program she’d matched with was in the same city where she’d gone to college. Close to home. She couldn’t wait to be closer to home.

Juliet worried a lot about Rachel. More than either of their parents, and far more than Rachel herself. Before submitting her residency applications, she’d been considering a specialty in oncology. She’d thought it would give her a sense of purpose. But before long the idea only made her start seeing Rachel in the eyes of her patients, and being so scared all the time made the job too hard.

Juliet missed talking to Kate.

Kate missed talking to Juliet, too, she realized well before Juliet made the same confession. She missed the dramatic inflections she made when she was excited about something, all the big words she used.

She missed knowing how she spent her days (at the hospital, or sleeping and reading while she waited to go back to the hospital), and what she had for dinner the night before (peanut butter and jelly). She missed teasing her for all of the above.

How lovely it was, to bask in the balmy nighttime air and listen to the melody of Juliet’s voice. Their requisite hour (and then some) flew right by. Only when Kate noticed the time on her phone by mistake did she sigh reluctantly.

“I should go."

It hurt her to say it. She didn’t want Juliet to think she was abandoning her.

So she added, “I’m glad you called me.”

“Yeah,” mused Juliet. “Me, too.”

There was a long pause, and Juliet’s next words came out all in a rush.

“There’s a, uh—well, my dad is throwing me a party. Next month, when I’m back after graduation.” She sighed. “I couldn’t stave him off any longer. He’s really insisting, and he’s threatening to make up for lost time. So it’ll be big, most likely. And um…”

Kate’s heart was stampeding with anticipation. Her eyes darted around Juliet’s front yard, imagining the long-prophesied string quartet out on the lawn. Imagining Juliet in her graduation dress. (In Kate’s head it was the same one she’d worn for her high school graduation, although she knew it’d probably be something different. But surely, something just as beautiful.)

Imagining herself walking up to Juliet amidst the sounds of a violin. The smile she’d give her. The hug she’d give her.

Maybe, the apology she’d give her.

Anything that came after that, she couldn’t let herself think about yet.

“I’d love to come,” she blurted out. Then she felt her face get hot. One thing she was glad Juliet wasn’t there to see. “Oh, um—sorry. Sorry, I should let you finish.”

She was already laughing, sounding surprised. “No—you read my mind.”

“Okay,” said Kate. She couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ll be there.”

“Great,” said Juliet. Her voice dripped with joy, like she couldn’t stop smiling, either. “I’ll text you the details. Oh—please don’t get me a present, also. I have to move my entire life across the country, and I really don’t need more stuff anyway.”

Kate stood and lidded the brownies, but stayed rooted in place with her phone glued to the side of her head.

“What if I get you something really tiny?”

She laughed again. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” said Kate firmly.

Juliet’s laugh quieted, and there was a long beat of silence.

“Okay,” she relented. “If it’s smaller than a quarter, I’ll accept it.”

“Deal.”

A longer beat of silence. Kate sighed.

“You should go,” said Juliet quickly. “God knows I’m freaked out enough by the idea of you riding that thing in broad daylight.”

“Motorcycles are perfectly safe. And I always wear my helmet.”

“Always?”

“Well, almost always.”

“Kate.”

“I know. I’ll wear it now, though, I promise.”

“Text me when you get home too, okay?”

Before they dragged out their goodbye another few minutes, Kate promised that she would. But keeping that one on top of her first promise proved to be more than she could commit to.

When Juliet texted her the date and time of the party the next day, she did at least remember to apologize for breaking her second promise.

No worries :) came Juliet’s reply.

And Kate let herself wonder if the other, bigger, scarier apology she hoped to give might stand a chance of being taken so well.

Notes:

anyway i'm putting on blue by joni mitchell rn, in case anyone cares to join me :')

Chapter 14: Thirteen

Now:

Juliet watched Kate sleep the day away, and sucked on her teeth. Her tongue prodded the molar that gave her trouble, triggering a tiny spasm in the back of her jaw.

Kate only ever looked young while she slept. Her open eyes were too keen, too watchful. Fearful, weary glint in their corners.

Like many times before, Juliet wished the two of them had met even younger. Nine or ten was one thing; so much to be grateful for. Even if the bulk of their time together was indeed behind them. The grief of what would come after, one thing.

No laughing matters, those. They just didn’t entice Juliet the way the void of years that stretched prior to their meeting did. Those called like a siren, glowed like an artifact deep in a tomb.

Lift it from the pedestal, though, and risk an ambush descending. Risk learning that Kate’s eyes had never deepened with the lush of youth. That her legs had always been prone to tensing at loud noises.

Not like she was ready to run. But like she was ready to be ready.

Don’t start an experiment if you can’t stomach a potential outcome, right? No faster track to bias existed.

Bias.

Juliet scoffed. Nothing but bias filled her up, watching Kate turn over inch by inch from head to toe, like something helical. Watching her splay a hand out to the side, across Juliet’s stomach. Feeling the lazy twitch of her fingers.

Long ago, Juliet learned that more love wasn’t the answer. Not to marriage, and not to quelling that fear in Kate. All the kisses and promises and outstretched palmfuls of sweets in the world couldn’t draw it from her.

Still, she gave and gave and gave them away, and they doubled back in the space they left behind. Whole orchards twisting in her ribcage, nowhere for the fruit on the vines to go. There it rotted, and the years passed by. Time compressed for dead things.

After Kate left the second time, Juliet hoped Wayne had taken all that strife to the grave. Surely he had to be the cause of such a base and present terror.

But then Kate came back at last, and there the immovable glint had been.

The morning grew dimmer by the minute, but Juliet couldn’t get to sleep. She’d had none of her standby tea, and anticipation of her coming anguish buzzed in her like caffeine.

Even the lulling sound of the rainstorm that began around midday didn’t do the trick. So she stopped trying, and watched water droplets race each other down her bedroom windows.

When she toured the apartment, she’d been taken by those windows. Three in a row with a cushioned bench beneath, forming half a hexagon that jutted out from the plane of her street-facing wall. A good place for reading, she’d thought. Shaped like a turret. It reminded her of the beginnings in fairy stories—high tall towers, sad young women locked away. It’d felt right. Once upon a time.

She’d never once read there. She only read right where she was, slumped against the pillows. Or at the kitchen table, if it was something for work. Reading about organs and needles before bed never helped her sleep any better than heartbreak did.

Once upon a time, Juliet got locked in a tower of her own making. Maybe it’d started here, in the turreted bedroom. More likely, it was long before that.

Sometimes she wanted to believe it was Kate who put her there. Not fair, she knew.

Yet there in her head a voice whispered, that she’d better renew her lease. Better make sure Kate could find her when she came back again.

Juliet tensed her jaw, and her eyes shot over to her. She'd curled up on her side, as if making herself as small as possible. Comforter pulled to her face, one fist wrapped around the edge.

If Kate really did leave the way she’d planned to, she wouldn’t come back for a long time. A really, really long time.

Better buy the place outright.

She’d do it. Admitting it to herself made her want to wither away into nothing, but she would. She’d stay put forever, now that she’d seen Kate come back. Now that she had evidence such an outcome were possible. Anything! She’d do anything, to make herself easy to find.

If only being hard to find was the problem.

There was a lot Juliet could admit to herself these days. But no matter what she said to Rachel, and no matter what she said to the therapist to whom she paid an arm and a leg and then some, nothing could get her to truly accept the idea that Kate might never come back.

(Bias.)

The rain fell and fell. Say what you will about denial, but Juliet’s might have been the only thing to give her the courage for what came next. For better, for worse.

For a moment, she covered her hand over the knuckles of Kate’s that clutched the comforter. Then she left her there.

Readily and silently she cried, as she plucked her robe off the hook and cloaked herself in it.

* * * * *

Then:

Sun called her name, but her engagement ring sparkled so brightly that Kate couldn’t have missed her if her life depended on it.

She stood from the bench outside the library where she’d been waiting, and watched Sun maneuver around a family standing smack dab in the middle of the sidewalk, a map of the university open around them like a force field.

Kate caught her eye, and chuckled as she gave a pointed “excuse me” that didn’t seem to register.

“I don’t miss that at all,” said Sun with a shake of her head after they’d hugged and started toward the idyllic cobblestone street that bordered campus. “Almost as bad as getting followed by a tour.”

“Oh god, yeah,” Kate agreed. “Like being on display at a zoo.”

Sun grinned. “How are you liking it, otherwise?”

“Good,” said Kate emphatically. “Different than I thought, maybe, but good. And I’m going so slowly—I still have no clue what to major in.”

“That part sounds familiar.”

They reached their destination—an underground gift shop with no organizational system to speak of. Digging through the bins of esoteric jewelry and souvenirs and stationary supplies something near to an archaeological dig.

Maybe Kate could major in that, she thought to herself as she plunged her arm into a barrel of vintage silk scarves. It seemed exciting, traveling the world. Brushing dust off bones and antique shards of dishware. Easy to picture herself in a wide-brimmed hat, with one of those scarves wrapped around her neck to protect it from the sun.

She looked over her shoulder, toward where Sun inspected right in front of her face a charm bracelet whose tricky clasp she seemed stubbornly determined to figure out.

“Don’t bother—Juliet doesn’t like bracelets,” Kate said automatically. Then she blushed, and wondered if it were still true.

Sun got the clasp undone, and clumsily fastened it onto her own wrist to admire.

“Oh, I’m not getting her anything.”

“Really?”

“Usually when people say no gifts they don’t mean it, but she insisted.”

The scarves around Kate’s hand seemed to transform into something else. Something wrong. Squids or snakes or worms. Slowly she withdrew her hand from the barrel, as if not to anger them.

“Should I not get her anything either?”

Sun smirked. “No, you should definitely get her something.”

Kate’s blush deepened. She hurried to the next aisle over, and flicked through a stack of greeting cards.

“So how’s Jin?” she said, peeking up in time to see Sun blush in return.

She sighed. “He and my mother are touring venues today, so I’m sure he’s wonderful.”

A surprised-sounding laugh bubbled out of Kate. “Without you?”

She rolled her eyes. “I told them not to bother—I said yes to him someday. Not until I’m thirty, at least. There’s no point booking something now. But they can’t be reasoned with.”

“You’re going to have the most meticulously planned wedding in history.”

“And everything will still go wrong the day of, I’m sure.”

Kate laughed again. “Probably.”

For a few minutes they searched in silence. Every potential gift Kate found seemed like it would be fine, but she didn’t want fine. She wanted the perfect gift, something so right that it would say to Juliet all the things that Kate herself didn’t know how—or was just too scared—to say.

She sighed, and circled back around to the jewelry. Too much pressure to put on a gift, she told herself. And Juliet deserved to hear those things from Kate, anyway. Not from an object that was meeting her for the first time ever.

Her hand hovered on a delicate, silvery necklace somewhat like the one Juliet’s mother had gotten her for her high school graduation. But instead of any gemstone, the chain held a four-petaled pendant made of an iridescent material, like mother-of-pearl.

Kate ran her thumb over it, thinking of the treasures from Juliet she still had tucked inside a cigar box back at her dad’s. Thinking of the four leaf clover she promised to find for her once, but never did.

Maybe that necklace wouldn’t say everything, but it seemed good enough. Smaller than a quarter, too, and the price generously discounted due to another difficult clasp.

Unsurprisingly, Sun was able to work it deftly. As they bid the clerk goodbye and emerged into the beaming June afternoon, Kate muttered that she’d better stick with her when she gave it to Juliet, since otherwise no one was going to be able to help her put it on.

Sun chuckled. “You’ll do fine. Just don’t force it.”

They picked up sandwiches from the checkerboard-tiled diner on the corner, then Sun walked Kate back toward the library. She gave her a tight hug, and wished her luck with the paper she had due tomorrow.

Back in her cubicle on the fourth floor—the silent floor—Kate didn’t work on her paper.

She’d started setting up the home insurance policy for her mother months ago, and the end of the questionnaire was so close that she could taste it. Difficult to answer such detailed questions for a house she refused to set foot in, especially when she didn’t know what half of the terms meant. She made a lot of uneducated guesses, and filled in the blanks with questions she posed to Michael over dinner.

No matter how vague she tried to keep her phrasing, he never failed to ask what she was up to. It wasn’t a secret, the insurance policy. It was a nice thing to do. Something Wayne almost certainly hadn’t thought to do.

(How was he—the living, breathing embodiment of a natural disaster—supposed to have foresight to something like an act of God?)

For some reason though, Kate didn’t like being asked what she was up to. It made her feel itchy all over.

Just after she’d submitted the finalized questionnaire—eyes fixed on the spinning wheel displayed central on the insurance webpage—she heard the distinctive ding! of her email.

She lit up at the inbox preview—a reply from a buddy of her dad’s. His combined Father’s-Day-fiftieth-birthday scrapbook hadn’t caused Kate nearly as much internal strife as Juliet’s graduation present had, but she was grateful she’d gotten a head start on it. Most of Sam’s friends were ten or twenty years his senior, and they weren’t exactly prompt with their emails (if they knew how to operate a computer in the first place).

This friend had pleasantly surprised her with his punctuality, though his military background should’ve been a tip. She’d only had to wait a day for his reply, and she smiled as she scrolled through several scanned photos from his last deployment. Sam cooking, Sam playing cards, Sam passed out on a couch with a mustache drawn on his face.

It wasn’t until the fourth or fifth one that the fuzzy orange numbers in the bottom corner registered.

His last deployment had been the year before Kate was born, he’d always told her. And the date was technically from the year before she was born. But it was too late in the year. He would’ve been back by then.

The dates had to be wrong, somehow, because Sam had to be home by then.

Otherwise…

Kate stared at the screen with the ghost of her smile still there on her mouth. Her reflection would look nearly macabre to her, if she could focus her vision long enough to see it.

She typed a reply—first, a thank you. Then a question she crafted several times, because she couldn’t make it sound anything but desperate.

Another prompt response, and this time she cursed the punctuality. Cursed the lack of wiggle room in the tenor of the response. No bush-beating—just cold, hard facts, and the truths they made clear.

If only the library had a screaming floor, Kate thought. She dug her nails into her palms and breathed fast and hard through her nose. Her head spun, and everything inside her skin felt askew. Wrongness woven into her foundational source code.

It made too much sense not to be real.

Problems with the foundation were very serious, she’d surmised by observing which words got the most attention in the insurance questionnaire.

That one, she felt she’d known already.

Sometimes, nothing could be done to fix it, right? Sometimes, the best thing to do was to destroy the home and start over.

She navigated back to the insurance website, and the wheel had stopped spinning. Pop-up with the policy packet, downloadable. Printable.

Kate did both.

On the first floor, she shielded her whirring printer’s tray from the group of students jockeying with a photocopier across the room without quite knowing why.

The policy wasn’t a secret, but it seemed safer to keep it like one. Now that she sensed what it was for.

She told herself she’d know when the right moment came.

* * * * *

What Kate didn’t bank on was knowing when the wrong moment had come.

The whole day of Juliet’s party, she felt like all the newly-hatched butterflies outside had found shelter inside her ribcage. Perhaps five small bites of food had made it into her mouth since sunup, and she got snippy with her dad when he called to ask if she wanted to go for a hike the next day.

Then she’d declined Sun’s invitation to get ready together, worried about projecting her snippiness elsewhere. But as she fixed her hair for the millionth time, she regretted it.

Juliet won’t care, Kate reminded herself. And it wasn’t like her braid not having a strand out of place was going to solve anything.

Nor was the point of the party to solve anything, anyway. Now that the day had come, the imagined apology Kate had been going over in her head for the better part of a month seemed like it wouldn’t belong. There’d be too much pressure on Juliet to heed it, surrounded by other people, on edge from all the attention she was getting.

Maybe after the party—no!

Maybe she could just allude to the idea of an imminent apology—no!

Maybe Kate could put aside her own problems, for once!

She was in the middle of undergoing a similar internal struggle in the bathroom mirror when the distant sound of her ringing phone startled her back to the present.

After hurrying to her room, she saw that it was a number she didn’t have saved, but recognized. One of Wayne’s favorite bars.

Her heart pounded. It’d been awhile since any of his antics had won her a call. For awhile, he'd avoided them himself. And when they'd started back up, she’d only had to let a few calls go to voicemail before they stopped altogether.

Now, the phone had a different ring to it. A different sort of opportunity.

It was the wrong moment, she told herself. And she only had her bike—no way she’d be able to get a drunk Wayne to sit on that. No way could she stomach his limp, handsy limbs wrapping around her waist.

She picked up the call anyway, to a tone of sheepish surprise.

This time, Wayne had come to his own rescue. He’d been in rare form (which had to be saying something), and no one had been able to get his keys away from him. So he’d stumble-stormed out of the bar, cursing everyone in it to high heaven. Peeling out of the driveway with a sound like a woman screaming.

“I don’t wanna call the cops,” said the bartender. “But maybe someone should make sure he got home without killing anyone.” Long pause, like his next words were something worth even less than an afterthought. “Or himself.”

“Sorry, I can’t. Not tonight.”

“No problem, Kate. I’m sure he’s fine—he’s the luckiest bastard I know. Nothing seems to touch him.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, pulling absently at the hair near her temple. She caught herself, and wrenched her hand away. She was going to mess the braid up for sure if she didn’t get going.

After she hung up she looked at the clock. Still a little early.

With a petulant sort of sadness she missed the days when she could get to Juliet’s parties a little early. A lot early.

Too early, but she got on her bike anyway.

And the next thing she knew, she was sitting on the stoop, waiting for Wayne to come home.

And the next thing she knew, there he was, barreling toward her. Grinning like he’d won the lottery, though none of the garbled nonsense coming out of his mouth sounded like something pleasant.

As Kate half-eased, half-shoved him inside, he took the opportunity to leer conspicuously at the blouse she’d spent far too long picking out, and she braced herself against it. Against how much thought she’d paid to how revealing it was. Against the sensation she had that Wayne knew and understood those exact metrics.

She stayed braced—teeth and heart and shoulders all—until he was safely shut behind the bedroom door. Glance toward the stovetop clock—early no longer. Very fashionably late.

It all happened so smoothly, a singular motion.

Step toward the stovetop clock, trash can dragged there with her. Top tossed aside. The stainless steel lighter she only carried for James’ sake—given to her as a Christmas present by James himself—extracted from her bag. It’d been tucked between the rolled up insurance paperwork and a blue velvet box, tied up with a ribbon.

Don’t think about that. One beat. Then two.

Dial on, left open. Amidst the click-click-click-click-click, Kate lit the corner of a receipt from the top of the trash. From the liquor store, she recognized right away. How fitting.

Then she bolted. Jump on the bike, quick work of the kickstand. She'd gotten better at that.

She made three-and-a-half turns through the woods before the blast.

Not as loud as she might’ve expected, but loud enough to make her swerve on the narrow road. Tell-tale scent on the air. Crackling wind.

And on she drove.

There was no slap of awareness in the face. No sudden leap into truth. Just a creeping, crawling, generalized knowledge, coming on slow like sleep. Something over, something done with.

Something behind her.

The twinkling lights hung up all around Juliet’s house caught her eye when they appeared in the distance, and woke her like a rising sun. Like the thrill of Christmas morning.

Cars snaked down her driveway, out into the road. She flew by them all. Then she saw the twinkling lights again, glaring in the mirror stuck onto her handlebars.

Something behind her.

She started breathing hard, feeling dizzy. There was nowhere to pull over. More cars, more cars up the length of the road beyond Juliet’s house in the other direction too. Both sides of the road.

So she skidded to a stop, and a horn blared behind her. She tried to wave as a car wove around her, but she couldn’t quite lift her hand.

She pulled as far to the side as she could fit, and gripped her handlebars hard. Cars whooshed by her one by one.

Juliet’s house, with the twinkling lights. The party. She couldn’t go. Not now.

Would she ever see her again?

She reached a hand into her bag, and the thought tumbled down her back like something icy. She touched the lighter, the ribbon-wrapped velvet box, and the sharp edges of the papers.

Maybe. Not now.

First, she went to her dad’s. Pretending she needed something from her room, yelling to him over her shoulder. She ran upstairs, shoved the lighter and necklace into her nightstand, then packed as many clothes into her bag as she could.

Plus the big duffel bag of license plates in the closet, which she slung onto her back. Just in case. Into the inner pocket of that bag, she stuffed all the cash she had stashed beneath her bed. She spared a moment of thanks for the recent break-in which had prompted her to move some of her savings to her dad’s in the first place. The rest, she’d go without. There wasn’t time.

She paused, and tipped open the cigar box with her shells from Juliet. Another thing she’d have to go without. They were too breakable, to withstand whatever came next.

On her way out she hugged her dad, for so long that he laughed nervously. And Kate managed to laugh with him, to hold back her tears until she was driving away.

Then she found her mom at work, to deliver something that might finally change her life for the better. To let her know, she’d finally been taken care of.

* * * * *

Kate rode through the night, and made it past several states before she stopped to buy a bus ticket. It felt like she was far enough away. Like she had to be in the clear.

(But god, the feds were quick. God, was Diane quick to give her up.)

There was a half-off deal on the route to Tallahassee, and Florida reminded her of Juliet. Absently Kate wondered if she’d ever been there.

That was about all she had time to wonder, before Mars got her under his thumb.

After they crashed, she squinted at the shadow amidst the blinking headlights. Kept looking at it, as she fumbled around for Mars’ key. As soon as she was out of the car with her bags back in hand, she crept toward the shadow. She got just close enough to see that it was a horse, then she stopped short.

“Annie?” she whispered. But it couldn’t be. No matter how familiar the shine of her eyes seemed.

For hours and hours Kate had sprinted, indigo swaths of sky streaking above.

She longed to get closer, to experience the mirage for what it was. Before she could, Annie-not-Annie whinnied, and galloped away with a tossing shake of her mane.

Kate froze in the middle of the road, hypnotized by the persistent hissing and beeping coming from the ruined vehicle behind her. Blinking headlights beaming into her.

Then the blood came back into her hands and feet, and she did the only thing she could.

She ducked into the wooded cover alongside the road, and she ran.

* * * * *

Now:

The hour on the clock was late, but Kate’s spirits couldn’t be dampened by it. Gears turned all day in her mind while she slept, like a machine with the dust cloth pulled free. Her technology clunky and outdated, but workable.

Maintenance aided by Juliet’s downy pillows. The scent of her shampoo.

Kate smiled, and turned over. But Juliet wasn’t there.

All the gears screeched to a halt, and Kate shot up with her eyes still bleary.

Juliet sat in the windowsill across the room, wearing her robe with her hair dry. Big wool socks pooled unevenly around her ankles. Knees drawn to her chest, head tilted against the glass.

The sound of the sheets rustling made her turn, but her eyes stayed averted.

“Should we make more pancakes?” asked Kate. Her voice sounded nervous.

She heard Juliet’s long breath. Saw her brittle smile. And felt something unpleasant blooming in her chest.

“I think you should go.”

Unpleasantness took a fast descent into pain. All that sweet-smelling air, replaced with something cloying. Something thick, something you could choke on.

Kate choked on it. Her eyes went the same way Juliet’s were averted—her dresser, where Kate’s laundry was neatly folded and categorized. Bag on the floor, mouth unzipped.

“I had to dry some of them again, because they got wrinkled. I don’t know if you care about that. So sorry if they shrunk. But they’re still warm, which might be nice.”

Kate stared at her.

“I’m gonna shower. If you want to say goodbye, you can wait ‘til I’m done. But I won’t be mad, you know. If you go.” She smiled again, but it looked even more wrong. Pained.

“You want me to leave?”

“No,” said Juliet firmly. “I think I’ve been pretty clear about what I want, Kate. But if you’re really going to leave, then I need you to leave now.”

“It’s only been forty-eight hours.” The feathery whine in her tone made her cringe. “You said fifty.”

That awful smile faded. Kate didn’t think it would be possible to miss it, but she did.

“My shift starts at six.” She sniffed, and looked down. “But I usually get there a little early. And there might be traffic.”

For a long moment Kate kept staring, blinking foolishly. Then she gave a long, slow nod, and pushed herself up from the bed with all her limbs leaden.

Suddenly she felt naked beyond belief, and fought the urge to cover her chest. As fast as she could she yanked a pair of jeans and a hoodie out from the stacks of laundry. She didn’t bother with a t-shirt or bra, feeling like the fewer garments she had to hurry into, the better.

As she jump-wriggled past the shrunken seams of her jeans, she realized that the awkward, vulnerable sensation weighing her down all over made her think of movies, someone leaving after a one night stand. The feeling of having overstayed a welcome.

All the examples coming to mind were from movies, because Kate had no one-night-stand experience of her own to draw from. Mostly, she’d had Juliet, with whom such ideas were laughable. With anyone else, she’d never stuck around long enough.

Laughable, the idea of herself overstaying a welcome.

But Juliet still wouldn’t look at her, so who was laughing now?

The rain grew louder, and Kate felt herself dreading the drive north. How miserable it would be, so gray and lonely and dark. At some point, the rain would turn to snow.

She eyed Juliet’s rumpled bed, and recalled how warm it’d been. Almost warm enough to let the gears resume turning. She risked a glance at Juliet, who cleared her throat and stood right away, like Kate’s glance had activated her.

“There’s coffee,” she said. She gave another thin smile, and almost looked at Kate as she passed her on the way to the door. Almost. “I have to-go cups. And take as many leftovers as you want—I have to get groceries tomorrow, anyway.”

Kate’s brow wrinkled, and she felt her lip tremble. She hated herself for it. She hated how badly she wanted to stomp her feet and fall on the floor. For Juliet to fall on top of her, and pin her there.

But the floor was falling away. There was nothing to grab onto.

“Why are you doing this?”

Juliet paused in the doorway, but she didn’t turn. The muscles on the side of her neck tensed.

“I’m not doing anything,” she said softly.

“You are,” Kate huffed. Brows getting tighter, tugging on her scalp. She picked up her bag and stuffed her clothes into it. Roughly. Carelessly. Most of them got unfolded in the process, and crumpled like wads of paper. They’d get wrinkled again.

Good thing Kate didn’t care. Juliet cared, and that made Kate want to do something less than not care. She wanted to crumple all the clothes. Open the window and dump them on the sodden sidewalk, ruin them all over again right in front of Juliet’s annoying, caring face.

Juliet stayed stuck in the doorway, like she was waiting for Kate to do just that.

Instead, Kate zipped up her bag, and dropped it to the floor.

“What if I didn’t leave yet?”

After a long pause, Juliet sighed.

“Yet?”

Kate cleared her throat, twice.

“Yeah, I mean. Maybe I could stay a few more days?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think so.”

Then she started walking away.

“Wait!” said Kate urgently. Pleading. Pathetic.

Juliet stopped, and turned. Her expression was blank, but exhausted in a way that hurt to look at.

“What?”

“Just…” Kate scoffed. She pushed the mess of her hair back from her face, two hands lingering on her crown. Wildly she looked around the room, like she was searching for an escape route.

But it was all backwards. She didn’t want to go. Juliet didn’t want her to go. It seemed so simple. Too simple.

Of course it was. It didn’t factor in that the best thing for Juliet was to stay away from Kate. As far as she could get from all Wayne’s words that’d got stuck in her head. Real and imagined ones blending together, weaving into words of her own.

If she had his words, and his eyes, why would the resemblance stop there? Why wouldn’t he bleed into any and everything she did and said and touched?

For years, Juliet had been far away from her. And look at all she’d accomplished. All she’d been protected from. All she wouldn’t be protected from, if Kate tried to stay.

Like Kate in prison, a life on hold waiting. For how long, nothing but a crapshoot. Years, or decades. And that seemed the best case scenario. Other ends loomed larger, like charges of Juliet's own. Not to mention something worse. Tripping over a rock on a trail Kate had chosen. A car accident on a stormy night.

Nothing more dangerous, than following Kate where she tread. Trying to turn her good.

Just look at Wayne. Look at Mars. Look at all the burning wreckage behind her.

Kate dropped her hands, and reached back to grip the lip of the dresser. Some vintage piece, she could tell. The surface was made of a true and spongy wood. Not veneer, not particle board. Solid, and sturdy. Her nails dug into it. Maybe she could soak it up.

“It’s not that I don’t want to stay, okay?”

Juliet shifted her weight, and gave a small shrug.

“But the longer I do, the more likely it is you’ll get hurt.”

The sound of laughter shocked her like static. Reverberating through the floor beneath their feet, up through the veins of the dresser. Slivering under her nails.

It was hard not to flinch, when Juliet approached her. She moved slowly, like she thought such a reaction might be coming.

Despite her gentle pace, the hand she grabbed Kate’s arm with clenched like a jaw.

“I’m not sure you can hurt me more than you already have,” she said. Her voice was matter-of-fact, but there were ridges in it. It ached with the cold, and with the harsh breath Kate sucked in. “The day you left. The first time.”

She took a step closer. An inch between them, maybe two.

“Sometimes, it feels like all I’ve done from then until now, is hurt.”

Kate felt herself shrink as Juliet’s eyes sharpened.

“I still wake up and look for you sometimes. It happened right before you showed up—well, before I found out you were here. I had a dream about you, too. That was strange, since I don’t dream much. But I must have seen you out the corner of my eye. My brain remembered, even if I didn’t.”

She peered down at Kate, who longed to get away. Who couldn’t move, other than loosening her hold on the dresser. Her hands drifted up, reaching for Juliet.

They didn’t quite make it. She held onto a tail of her knotted robe instead.

“It was raining like this. And I cried so hard that I wanted to die. But what was worse than that was feeling like a fool, for being so miserable when I have everything I worked so hard for.” Another laugh—just empty space, void of any humor or malevolence. “I don’t even care. I don’t even want it.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but her face didn’t falter.

“So you tell me, Kate. Say you stay, for a long time. What are you going to do to me that’s so horrible?”

Kate swallowed, and felt the air stand still.

“You know Wayne was my father?”

Slackening of Juliet’s grip, but Kate didn’t take the chance to free herself of it. She wanted to feel that hand go limper and limper. To feel the same bare, shameful rejection she’d felt getting out of bed.

“No,” said Juliet weakly.

“You know he used to hit me, too?”

“Yes,” said Juliet. Even weaker.

There was a beat of silence in which their eyes met, and steely recognition ping-ponged between them. Kate freed her arm with a sharp jerk, then tucked two hands inside her sleeves.

“You knew?”

Juliet shut her eyes, and nodded.

“James?”

“No,” she said, eyes flying back open. “Well, yes—he told me when it really started. But I thought…” Her forehead crumpled as she looked away. “Honestly, I always assumed it was happening. From the first time you told me anything.”

She backed away and sank onto her bed, fiddling with the ties of her robe like Kate had earlier. She stared at her lap, drawing her shoulders toward her ears like she wished she could hide there.

“And you didn’t…” Kate started, before her sentence trailed off.

Before she wondered what Juliet didn’t do. What she could’ve done.

Juliet shook her head.

“I talked to Rachel once,” she said. “And she talked to our dad. He was going to talk to your dad, but I don’t know if he ever did. I didn’t…”

Her sentence dropped in the middle, just like Kate’s had. She bent forward with an elbow on her knee, forehead pressed into her palm. Only then did she pick it back up, like she needed her face obscured to voice the thought.

“I didn’t want it to be real. I know that it was. I know. But I thought if we didn’t talk about it, maybe it wouldn’t be. I’m sorry, Kate—okay? I failed you. I am failing you.” She looked up, curling her hand into a fist she dropped down hard. Her eyes were bloodshot, tears surging at the rims. “So what, you’re destined to treat me the way Wayne treated your mom? It’s hard-wired in you, so it’s just going to pop out someday, no matter what you do?”

Kate shrugged, and said nothing. It sounded almost silly, laid out like that.

Juliet's mouth curled into a sad, wizened smile. “Hm. I don’t know, you know? I don’t know if it’d be enough.”

“Enough what?

She clicked her tongue. “Enough to make me stop loving you.”

The sound that pealed from Kate’s throat was inhuman. Unrecognizable. Some diagonal mid-point between animalistic and spectral. She felt her mouth contort of its own volition, into an expression that made Juliet’s eyes widen. They stayed locked on target, though, and no part of her shook.

“Don’t fucking say that,” Kate hissed. She clutched at her chest. She couldn’t get enough air.

Juliet raised an eyebrow with baffling nonchalance.

“I’m not saying it’s something I’m proud of. It’s just the truth—I don’t know, which I’m pretty sure means it’s not something I'm worried about.” She scoffed. “Come on, Kate—have you ever once wanted to? Like, have you had to hold yourself back, from hitting me? Slamming my hand against the wall? Pretending you’re gonna crash the car? Any of the other horrible things Wayne did?”

Kate shook her head violently, her breathing still shallow.

“Then I’ll take my chances. Plus, you’re thinking about this all wrong. Haven’t you ever worried that I might hurt you?” She smirked. “I mean, I’m taller than you. And I’ve taken a few kickboxing classes—I liked them. I’d take more. Would that make you feel better?”

“That’s not funny,” mumbled Kate, rolling her eyes. But the words came out fuller, less like a gasp.

Juliet reached one hand forward, and with the other she patted the mattress. With a resigned-sounding sigh Kate grabbed her hand and plopped down beside her.

“Don’t let me stop you, anyway,” said Juliet, touching her cheek to Kate’s shoulder. Her voice wavered, only slightly. “Just because you’re not running away doesn’t mean we have to be together, in any sense. I’ll stay away, if that’s what it takes. No matter where you want to live—you get dibs. And a fifty-mile radius.”

Kate snorted. “Kind of excessive.”

“How far, then—twenty miles? Ten? Five?” teased Juliet, arm bumping into her after each number. “I’m willing to negotiate.”

“No radius. No kickboxing.”

“Open offers. All that really matters is that you want to come home.”

“I want to,” said Kate. “I do.”

With a soft chuckle Juliet kissed her collarbone. “Good.”

For as long as possible they stayed there, and listened to the rain. Softer it grew, and Kate tried to get acquainted with the unfamiliar flavor of fear she felt. Even naming it was a challenge. The fear of naming. The fear of trying.

She held onto Juliet's hand, and squeezed it hard when she felt her stir. Time running low, and there really could be traffic.

Juliet turned to her, looking quizzical.

“You didn’t fail me, you know. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

She smiled warmly, and brushed a thumb across Kate's chin.

“Only so far.”

Kate laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

* * * * *

“Don’t kill me,” said Juliet with a grimace, just before she turned the car off.

The parking lot was bustling with end-of-day activity, and the easing off of the rain had most passersby seeming friendly.

Kate gestured to the flowing, beaming crowd with a smirk.

“Too many witnesses.”

Juliet pulled out the new pack of cigarettes from her raincoat pocket, and eyed her sheepishly.

“It’s not the middle of the night," Kate chided with her eyebrows raised.

“Special occasion.”

She dragged a nail beneath a corner of the cellphone, tossed the discarded wrapping aside, then un-clicked her seat belt and nodded toward the door. When they met at the hood, she folded her keys into Kate’s hand with a sad smile.

Better not to show up at the police station with a stolen car. So Juliet had argued when Kate tried in vain to insist she not be left without hers.

Well, first Kate would show up at her dad’s, even though that felt scarier. Then maybe her mom’s, depending. Then, a local attorney of her choosing. Then the police station, and only if the attorney advised it.

Juliet ran through this list once more—plus several other things Kate should be sure to do or not do, to say or not say—as she linked their arms together and led her not to the covered bus stop, but around the corner. They ended up a small courtyard garden, tucked in an alcove near the hospital’s front entrance.

“You should come here all the time,” said Kate. So early in spring there was little to admire beyond a few clusters of daffodils in the corners, but it was easy to imagine the beds teeming with life come summertime. “Seems a lot nicer than getting sprayed every time someone drives through a puddle.”

“It’s too close to the building,” mumbled Juliet with a cigarette between her lips. “But none of the windows or cameras look in directly.”

She furrowed her brow, and sparked the almost-empty lighter several times before it caught. Then she took a long drag, expanding out her chest like a barrel as a small, shameful flicker of relief crossed her face.

”It is a good thing you told me about this ‘special occasion’ back at the car, then. They’d never catch me here, if I didn’t react well.”

Juliet exhaled her laugh and the smoke all at once. “See, I know my stuff.”

Kate paced around the limited circumference of the courtyard, trying not to think about how its size compared to the size of a jail cell. Trying not to think about what it’d be like not to be able to decide for herself when to go outside.

Juliet was right though, when she really thought about it. Being on the run wasn’t much better than that. How many times had she been terrified to leave her motel room, or to take a certain turn? To eat the food she craved the most, because there were police cars in the parking lot?

Her life consisted of making decisions. One after the next. Being ready to make a decision at a moment’s notice. But the decisions themselves weren’t hers to begin with. Not really.

It’d seemed like freedom, once upon a time. Like the closest thing she could get to it. But now Kate wondered if her ideas about such things weren’t all mixed up, in the unwanted lessons Wayne had taught her.

Hopefully, she’d get the chance to find out.

The setting sun crossed past the small visible slice of evening sky above, and Kate pushed up the sleeves of her hoodie as she side-stepped the ray. Its strength surprised her, just that small sliver enough to warm her all over.

“I should’ve worn a shirt under this,” she whined. “Black cars get so hot, and now I won’t be able to take it off.”

Juliet let out a raspy chuckle, like she was using it to mask a cough. “Remember that time we had to drive home topless from Jack’s?”

“Oh yeah,” said Kate with a scoff. She kicked one foot up onto the brick wall, stretching down her hamstring. “When we went skinny dipping and ‘lost’ our shirts, right? I still think Marc hid them.”

“He didn’t,” said Juliet quietly. When Kate looked her way her eyes averted, and she took a long drag.

“What makes you say that?” Already she could feel her mouth stretching into a grin.

Juliet rolled her eyes. “I didn’t hide them on purpose. They were in my bag the whole time, I just didn’t realize.”

“Uh huh. Whatever you say.”

A sly smile tugged the corners of Juliet’s mouth. Final pull from her cigarette, then she dropped the butt onto the walkway. Her sneaker was halfway to crushing it there when Kate gasped, dramatically enough to make her lower it back in place with a guilty expression.

“Smoking and littering? God, I feel like I don’t know you at all.”

She scrambled down to the damp ground in spite of Juliet’s insistence that she’d get herself, and something in the adjacent grass caught her eye.

A patch of clover, all still the same dull and mossy shade of green as the surrounding grass. Clear as day, at least one sprout held four square leaves.

Not just one—most of them. Maybe all of them.

Kate stretched toward the patch with the same hand that held the cigarette butt, just for a second. Enough luck for her and Juliet both, just past her reach. More than she’d ever seen all in one place.

Then the hand Juliet had extended to help her up caught her eye. The reflective yellow shock of her raincoat. Her tired, happy eyes. How they glittered, just in that little bit of setting sun.

She took Juliet’s hand; she forgot about the clover.

* * * * *

Now:

The day her verdicts got read, Kate remembered the clover.

It was a hot day, mid-August, and the courtroom air conditioning couldn’t keep up. She fidgeted again, ignored another pointed glance from her lawyer.

Handcuffs had nothing on the pantyhose and pencil skirts Ilana made her wear. Not on the razor-thin heels that made her steps wobble.

All of her seemed to wobble, through the judge’s dreadful preamble. The urge to fidget again came over her like a deadly thirst, like it was the only thing that could set her right.

Forget fidgeting—she wanted to run a race. Back to the hospital. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

She should’ve ripped that whole patch of clover out of the ground, she thought with a regretful flash of misery. Such hubris, to throw her luck away like that.

Whatever words the judge said, Kate barely heard. All she heard clearly was a truncated shriek behind her, after he’d stopped speaking.

When she whipped her head around, Juliet had a hand clapped to her mouth. Eyes huge with disbelief.

Then Ilana was hugging her tightly, grabbing her by the shoulders. Saying things through a brilliant, gloating smile Kate hadn’t known she was capable of producing.

Murder—not guilty.

Everything else—a mixed bag. Credit for time served, since there’d been no bail. No more necessary. A long probation, and an order to stay put.

She looked back at Juliet, at the huge, goofy grin her hand revealed when it fell. Staying put would be no trouble; inside, she felt like she was floating away. She’d never felt like that in one place before.

Overwhelming happiness. Claps on the back, laughing congratulations. The next steps all passed like a daze, leaving her barely even able to absorb the dazzling beauty of Juliet leaning against her car when she emerged from the courthouse.

Brief hug there. Very brief. Both of them in a rush to get away.

On the drive to her dad’s, she slept. Drifting off in the middle of a sentence, her hand held fast in Juliet’s.

Juliet’s gap year after residency had turned into a gap two-and-a-half-years. (Trials. Lawyers.) In the end, she spent them less than five miles away. Close enough to visit as often as they let her, to press her hand to the plexiglass while the two of them spoke through scuffed black telephones.

Sometimes, she did it like a joke, and feigned a forlorn tone in her voice. Most often, she didn’t need to.

Hard to know what to call each other through all that time. But back in Kate’s bedroom, it was a hell of a lot harder to care. Dust over every surface, and the footprints they formed on the floor landed in a close row, dead center. One chaste kiss, upturned corner of the mouth. Then for a long time Kate held onto Juliet as tightly as she could, and Juliet cried.

There were voices downstairs eventually, milling in for the celebration Juliet’s dad insisted on sponsoring. He and Sam were arguing about something, but what else was new?

With a hiccup Juliet pulled back as far as Kate’s lifeline grip would let her, and lamented the sleekness in her hair.

In the middle of that lament, one long kiss.

They’d talk about it, they promised. Soon.

That night Juliet stayed over, but nothing happened. Not until after they’d talked. Not until they were on the other side of their much-discussed first date.

Right on the other side of it, in fact. In the backseat; in the unlit, empty lot of the restaurant they’d lingered at for far too long. Too hard to care about things like that, laughing over the same stories told ten times before.

Impossible for Kate to care about the waitstaff’s glares, there in the giddy, selfish glow of becoming.

Impossible for Juliet to care, when she already had a ring on her person.

She didn’t show her hand until after their fourth date. Wordlessly, and without any preface. Stretching down to get it from her purse on the shining, dust-swept floor, before she returned to her place on Kate’s sternum. She snapped open the box right in front of her mouth, felt the velvet bristle her lips.

Kate’s eyes widened, but she said nothing, either. Abruptly she twisted to the side to grab a velvet box of her own from the nightstand. Then she opened it to reveal the necklace that she'd kept there for years.

Juliet smiled, but she looked back at the open nightstand drawer.

“What’s that?” she whispered, pointing to another object.

“A lighter.”

Juliet didn’t need to ask anything more. They stared at each other.

“Can I have that, too?”

Kate hesitated for a moment, then she nodded.

Just once Juliet flicked it on, again right in front of her face. Kate wrapped her fist around it to snuff it out, and the lid snapped shut.

Again they stared at each other, then Juliet set all three objects aside before she crawled slowly upwards, her open mouth ravenous everywhere it roamed.

“Yes,” rushed Kate’s reply, a tide lifting her from the mattress.

She thought about finding in daylight the marks Juliet’s hunger would leave blooming, thready red lines linking her freckles like constellations. Like stops along the way on a treasure map. The thought made her sigh.

“Yes,” Juliet echoed. Word muffled by skin, resonating soft like a memory. Bright like the future.

Firecrackers burst between them, in that same shade of red.

And on they unraveled.

Chapter 15: Epilogue

Notes:

here we are folks!! :') wow!! this story and this world are so special to me, and i'm really grateful to everyone who's read along, shared their thoughts, or offered support and encouragement <33 i hope you enjoy this last little installment, and thank you so much for being here! :)

Neither:

True, perhaps, that running wasn’t freedom. But at least it felt like freedom. Wasn’t any relief—placebo or not—better than nothing?

Better to tear forth on the highway with her heart galloping just as swiftly, than to endure the iron bars that caught her like a prize. They burned into Kate’s eyes like something glowing, even when she shut them tightly. Looming there, waiting to trap her all over again.

She never got used to them. Every morning, she opened her eyes and reality barreled down like a blast door. Nowhere to go. Hardly even enough room to pace. Every inch, every second, dragging itself on hands and knees riddled with scabs that mirrored the ones rung round the gentle skin of Kate’s own wrists.

Every time the bars weren’t enough, and her hands got bound, too, it took a little less friction for her skin to start sloughing. A little less time for her to start fiddling, absent-mindedly pushing the bracelet against her stubborn thumb joint on one side, then the other.

Sometimes she did it less absent-mindedly. Sometimes she did it deliberately, and desperately, reminding her of animals gnawing off their own legs to escape a trap. Eighth wretched wonder of the world, that she hadn’t yet snapped back that stubborn joint like a wishbone.

Maybe she just didn’t have it in her anymore. So fast, she’d been held. In her heart, hardly even enough room for sympathy when another got chosen as the warden’s unlucky target. Room only for a shameful flicker of relief.

What even to wish for, on her gnawed and mangled thumb? Where even to start?

* * * * *

She could’ve wished not to get drawn back so easily. But the belly of the beast was like a mother to whom she wouldn’t stop coming home. No one else to blame for the new taunting bars, or her fresh and aching wounds.

Then.

Then.

Then.

She woke, to an unfamiliar trap. No bars branding her eyelids, one hand left free. Room to run in this one. Room to run for her life, to run against ruin, and oh! How good it felt!

A strange burst of light, coincident with the hand Kate clamped over her mouth.

Not the first time.

No, not the first time.

Some story on the news about mice that rang a bell, and made her furrow her brow at the television while she lounged on the couch with a bag of potato chips.

Shake of the head, onto the next channel.

That sudden flare of gold in the grocery store, when she’d guessed wrongly Kevin’s taco shell preference and had to go back a second time. How that redundant monotony had lodged a hundred nettles under her skin, until that flare unhooked them all at once.

Shake of the head, onto the register.

Gun barrel pressed into her arm, but it didn’t scare her.

Flipped flat onto her back once, then twice, but it didn’t scare her.

Nothing scared her, until she heard that crack. Plenty of peculiarity, but no soothing light. Only fear, distilled into something pure and slick and wriggling that flooded all her veins at once.

Different, somehow, from the fear that followed, that drove them to run and run and run for their lives.

That first fear not instinctual, but remembered. The rain, the mud. The scream. Paper sounds of the leaves above. Hands shaking wherever they moved.

She wasn’t sure why any of that should scare her. She wasn’t sure why she should care what happened to her.

Then.

“Give me your hand.”

Then.

Arguments that did no good. God, what a pain in the ass. Thought she knew everything, didn’t she?

Then.

When Juliet screamed again and fell against her chest, the first thing Kate wanted to do was push her away. She fought the urge, still feeling guilty. Long enough that a thousand disparate sources of that strange light swelled all together, reverberating like they were winding up to punch her in the stomach.

“Juliet?” she gasped, peering at the dim angles of her face. For some reason she wanted to touch every single one.

“What?” she answered exasperatedly, sliding back from her earlier indignation and agony into that cool, impatient tone that Kate had so hated.

Now, that tone made her sad. What had happened, to sap all the life from Juliet’s voice?

Juliet’s voice.

Light so vibrant she could feel the rupture, as well as hear it.

It popped like a balloon, a supernova no one could ignore. Heads turned to find the source, all across the cafeteria—even the new girl, her long sunshine braid whipping over her shoulder as she looked in Kate’s direction.

This time, their eyes met.

Juliet’s bright and glorious voice, lilting like wind chimes. Waking up to them, over and over and over and over again.

Saying good morning, and I love you, and good night, and I’m sorry, and should we get ice cream on the way home? And yes, and more, and please don’t stop, and please, please stay a little longer.

Kate started to laugh, and scrambled to sit up straight while pulling Juliet up with her as gently as she could, working around the handcuffs and her newly-set shoulder.

“It’s me,” she said in a rush as she grabbed her hands. “God, Juliet—it’s me.”

Skeptical confusion fogged Juliet’s gaze, then it cleared like clouds the sun was surging behind. Heavenly columns streaming through, like there was nothing truer in the universe.

“Kate,” she answered. In a confident, but delicate voice.

Then she was being crushed against Juliet’s chest, chiming all the wind right out of her lungs.

Juliet sobbed and sobbed, but once Kate got her breath back she couldn’t do anything but laugh.

“It’s okay,” she said over and over through her laughter, stroking Juliet’s hair.

Juliet backed away. Still crying, but joy lit her face. Kate held it in her trembling hands, staring with her eyes open wide.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, as Juliet's cheek pressed into her palm.

She frowned, and let out a whiny sigh. “I wish we had another set of handcuffs."

Kate’s laughter descended once more.

“I love you so fucking much.”

Then Juliet kissed her—hurriedly, sloppily, approaching with her mouth open, like she’d been halfway to saying something instead. Kate clutched at her wet shirt, pulling her close enough to feel both their hearts beating. She wondered how such a thing could be, then easily she let it go.

Because inside that kiss, everything shifted. All her nameless, blameless emptiness. All of why she’d felt so off-kilter, like she’d come home each day to find the furniture several inches askew.

They parted, and Juliet bit her lip with a reluctant expression as she dug in her pocket.

“You should hate me,” she said, unlocking first the bracelet around Kate’s wrist, then her own. “Those cages, for one. And nobody knocked me out—I dragged you out here, see?”

She waved the key around, then tossed it and the cuffs aside with a scoff. Kate shook her head hard, beaming at her.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Juliet gasped, and her eyes darted around wildly. “God, you don’t think…?”

“What?”

She reached for Kate’s uncuffed hand, soft touch of her fingers feathering the rawest skin.

“You left,” she said simply. Grief drew her brows downward, and a note of guilt hampered her words. Like an admission for some subliminal urge driving all she’d done.

Kate nodded, and answered in a feeble voice, weighed down by a whole choir’s worth of guilt.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Juliet nodded back. Kate melted into her celestial arms, and there they spun.

In the morning, Juliet’s wind-chime voice: “Now what?”

In the morning: “Who cares? We’re home.”

* * * * *

Then:

Northward Kate flew. She took a speed Juliet would surely chastise her for even if she had two hands on the wheel. Which, she did not.

Instead, she steered with her knee, while her hands managed the leftover lo mein she was scarfing down. Using the fork of Juliet’s she’d graciously wrapped up in a cloth napkin, tucked with several cartons in a big, insulated lunchbox she’d handed over with a proud grin, like she was sending Kate off to school, or to summer camp, or to work at a construction site.

The thought made Kate smile in return, there in Juliet's car. She hoped Juliet could feel it, that it might help carry her through the exhaustion of a night shift worked on far too little sleep.

Then she spotted the first sign indicating her exit was approaching, and her smile flickered. Forkful of noodles stuttering halfway out of the carton.

She could keep going, a voice in her head coaxed.

Go on as she’d planned, and keep flying north. Turn the borrowed car into a stolen car. Rain long since cleared. No snow in the forecast. Just her, and the trees that’d get taller and taller the further she went.

Juliet, she reminded herself, and the voice. But still it persisted.

The highway climbed and climbed, and then it crested.

Over the distant, familiar hilltop Kate spotted something. Her eyes went to the road ahead as a truck passed in the opposite direction. Then it was gone, and again she gazed beyond the hill.

Annie was there, bounding through the pasture. Her deep, supple coat coursed atop the springtime grasses, glaring the setting sun back like a mirror.

No mirage or trick being played—she was right where she belonged. Right where she was supposed to be.

On the other side of the hill would be the sheep. The farmhouse, still standing, bones creaking at the corners. Chickens nearby, newly-broken vegetable beds back the other way.

Kate’s running trails, her climbing trees, all her back-of-the-hand ways to get home. So many wonders waiting for her to belong alongside them.

She would. She watched Annie running through the field, and she knew that she would.

She laughed and laughed as she set the unfinished carton aside.

Then: with two firm hands gripping the wheel, she took the exit.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Islandless AU