Chapter Text
LOGAN
The water runs off my cheeks as I rise from the sink, staring at my reflection. The tiny white puka shells around my neck rub against my sweater and I consider slipping them off. Why am I so obsessed with wearing them, anyway?
Mirror…My mind itches with a thought just beyond reach. Something about mirrors. A Physics assignment, maybe? Whatever, I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Tonight, I need to unwind.
My phone is buzzing with texts from Dick, Sean, Carrie. The usual suspects, each with their own agendas. I’m bored of them all. The people I want to hear from are all silent or silenced. Last I checked, T-Mobile’s coverage doesn’t extend six feet under, but if they ever figure it out, I’m sure my father would shill for it on a fucking commercial.
A quick survey of the bastard’s usual haunts tells me he’s out for the evening, which means I need to get my ass clear of his path before he bothers to wander in. With Mom in New York shooting her TV movie, we’ve been playing a twisted game of Spy versus Spy, dodging each other and leaving cryptic texts as a breadcrumb trail of feigned normalcy. The occasional note on the fridge for good measure keeps him out of my way. We need milk. Thanks, Dad!
Popping a gingerbread cookie in my mouth, I head outside, tapping a few hurried replies as I move. Yes, I’m coming to the damn party. No, I’m not bringing any booze—that’s what Shelly’s money is for. No, I’m not bringing any drugs to share. Like these assholes aren’t rich themselves?
I narrowly miss Dad’s precious convertible as I swerve onto the road and take a swig from my flask. The dash clock flashes quarter to nine and I crank up the radio. Not too early, but still kicking this stupid party off. Setting a tone, as Lilly would preach at me.
“They look up to us, Lo. Half of them want to fuck us, and half of them wish they could be us. If we want it to stay classy, we have to show them classy.”
“Says the girl who’s flashed half our friends.”
“At a pool party! It’s expected!”
The Pomroy house is a few blocks over, but I make a quick detour for gas, filling up my tank before I’m too drunk. I have no intentions of remembering this bullshit end of year soiree. If I do things right, I won’t remember anything until January.
I will drown the memory of Lilly Kane until it lets me sleep.
The street is busy when I creep up, but there’s one spot just around the corner, hidden behind a hedge dressed in twinkle lights. I swing my X-Terra in close to the curb and cut the engine, leaning back against the head rest. For a brief moment, I contemplate blowing it off: this party; the holidays; the rest of the school year. I could drive down the coast. Take my credit card, fly to Australia and surf for a year. Fuck off and live somewhere that’s never heard of Lilly Kane. Maybe Nepal.
My fingers fidget with the puka shells on my neck and I swear I hear her laughing in the passenger seat.
“Why do you wear those anyway?”
“Because women like you find them sexy.”
“Only with your shirt off, lover.”
“So take it off for me, then…”
A thundering bang on my hood startles me and my eyes snap open. The digits on the dash glow a neon blue.
9:02
“Veronica,” I gasp.
The bathroom. The tapes. It all floods in, every memory, as my hand jerks away from my throat, tearing the necklace. Shells scatter along the floorboard as Dick laughs beside the passenger window, oblivious to my distress.
He killed her. He killed Lilly.
“You taking a nap out here, bro?” Dick chortles.
“Yeah, I’m already bored of this party. I’m leaving,” I announce, reaching for my phone.
Dick raps on the glass as I scroll through my contacts and dial Veronica’s number. “Dude, no way! There’s going be babes in there, and booze. ‘Tis the season for one-horse open sleigh riding.”
Dick gyrates his hips, smacking an invisible girl’s ass as Veronica’s voice mail cheerily greets me. My pulse is racing as I realize she is late—and I have no idea what happened to her inside that locked bathroom after she called my name.
“Veronica, it’s me. I need to know you’re okay. Call me, immediately.”
“Logan!”
“Dick, go inside!” I snap, gesturing to his brother at his side. “Don’t you have some matchmaking to do?”
Dick throws his hands up in surrender, wandering away with Beaver in tow. Tossing my flask on the floor, I study Shelly’s house and debate my next move. Do I venture inside and wait for Veronica, or do I head for her apartment and check on her?
She sounded so fucking scared.
I wait outside, surveying the parked cars carefully. There’s no Le Baron, but there are several models of Lexus, a handful of BMWs, other sports cars, a few more modest vehicles… Huh. Now that I’m really looking, this is the busiest the street has been in several loops.
Something’s different.
On the porch, I notice Susan Knight and Carrie Bishop laughing with another person, their back positioned towards me. Neat Christmas lights frame the doorway, and a wreath decorates the front door.
Door…A DOOR.
The door is back. And if the door is back, that means Veronica and I have changed something for the better, right?
What would Veronica do?
Get answers. Get evidence. Just like her father.
With one final glance up and down the street for her missing car, I head inside. Carrie tries to grab my attention but I blow her off, pushing through the crowded foyer into the thrumming party scene near the bar. The limes are shiny and green, nestled in neat trays beside bottles of tequila, vodka and whiskey.
Dick is holding my seat at the bar, and as I settle into it, I take mental attendance. Duncan is conspicuously absent, but Meg and Shelly are here, as are those losers from Hearst that flirted with Veronica a few loops ago. An old song about bad reputations plays as Dick groans, gesturing to his brother and a petite freshman.
“Look at that. Beaver's getting all the lovin'. Dick's flapping out in the breeze”
Luke rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Please, you have, like, the hottest girlfriend ever.”
I steal Luke’s shot of tequila and chase it with my own. I’m not sitting through this bullshit conversation another time without obliterating a few brain cells.
“Much like fake boobs, you know. Great to look at, but they don't do as much as you'd like them to,” Dick grumbles.
“Wait'll you get a couple of drinks in her,” Sean suggests with a conspiratorial wink.
“She's on fricking Atkins!” Dick glances at me, lowering his voice. “Didn’t you guys get some stuff in TJ?”
“Don’t even think about it,” I snap. “If she won’t say yes without it, it’s a fucking crime, Dick. In fact…”
Circling the bar, I jam my hand roughly in Luke’s jacket, palming his two hits of GHB. Luke protests weakly, but bites his tongue at my stern glare.
“Let’s try a fun game. It’s called No Means No. I’ll be the referee.”
I scan the backyard through the patio doors, studying the faces both familiar and less than. Still no sign of Duncan, but Carmen and Tad are huddled near a table of hors d’oeuvres with Angie Dahl. I reach for my phone, cursing the lack of messages from—
“Who invited Veronica Mars? Huh?”
I turn around, eyeing a disgruntled Madison leaning against Dick and follow her gestures to a glimmer of gold catching the strobing party lights in the foyer.
“Can you not be all over me for five seconds?” Madison protests as Dick leans in for a kiss.
The crowd parts but for a moment and my eyes widen.
Veronica.
VERONICA
I have no idea who Mesi is, but I hope he never fights again. I never want to hear his name, or even think of sports betting, for the rest of my life.
I am also never wearing a white dress again. Mark it down. Veronica Mars is never getting married and if she does, it’s going to be in some other colour. Maybe red satin. Why not?
I curl my hair hurriedly around the barrel of the iron, staring at my weary eyes in the reappearing mirror. I don’t understand why it’s back. I don’t know why the dress is back. But Lilly’s words are haunting me, looping like this endless night.
“Wake up!”
Has this all been a fever dream? A nightmare of what could have been? A premonition from my dead best friend?
But how could a dream tell me about tapes I knew nothing about? Why would I imagine that Lilly and Aaron Echolls…
I shudder, slamming down the iron. No, there has to be an explanation. Something about finding the tapes has changed the rules of this world, course corrected it. The oranges on the kitchen counter are fresh and tangy. My new home has no missing pieces.
Logan.
I need to know that he’s okay, too. We’ll need to stick together tonight, see things through. Keep to our new course, but refine it. We’re close, I feel it. But if we’re back at the party that never ends, we’ve missed something.
Backup nuzzles my hand as I slip my knife in my purse and grab my keys. I crouch to scratch his ears, sighing deeply.
“Do you know what we’re missing?”
Backup chuffs, resting his head on my bended knee.
“Yeah, me neither. Maybe Logan will know what to do.”
I consider calling him, but there’s no point: our loops are out of sync. He returns to the moment he arrives at the party. The Logan who would answer the phone right now wouldn’t remember our conversations, nor our tentative reconciliation. He wouldn’t be My Logan.
The drive to Shelly’s normally takes twenty minutes. I make it in fifteen. I jam the toe of my wedge heel down on the gas, accelerating through the streets of Neptune with an urgency. In the passenger seat, the ghost of a girl hums along with the radio as Avril Lavigne sings of tomorrows. So strange to think of something so benign as mythical now. Tomorrow never comes to stay, but if only it would, maybe Logan and I could find peace.
“Tomorrow, it may change,” I sing softly, turning onto Shelly’s street.
My eyes widen at the jammed curb and driveway. Every spare inch of parking space surrounding the Pomroy home is claimed, save one spot three houses down. I swing the Le Baron in, knowing I won’t find anything better. My skin prickles as I cut the ignition and grip the wheel tightly.
This is where I parked on the first night. The first time I came here.
If the street is busy, does that mean the party is… normal again?
Stepping out of the car, I survey the street more thoroughly. Logan’s X-Terra is parked around the corner from Shelly’s. The front lawn is milling with guests, and the lights are gleaming with holiday colours. It’s how I remember it, through the roofie amnesia haze.
Locking up my purse, I hurry inside. I need to find Logan immediately. Maybe we can do more research, see if quantum theory predicts… this. Now I’m wishing I’d paid more attention to Mr. Wu.
Susan and Carrie have reclaimed the front porch, clutching their cocktails with their usual catty Christmas cheer. I halt as Carrie whispers something beneath her breath, unable to resist the bait.
“Speak a little louder, Carrie.”
Carrie narrows her gaze. “Just remarking on the arrival of Holiday Barbie. I don’t recall Shelly asking for one for Christmas.”
“And I don’t recall anyone asking for a knock-off of Lilly, but here you are!”
They’re taken aback that I’ve returned fire. I’ve always been the soft one, the quiet follower to Lilly. No more. Never again.
“Word of advice, Carrie,” I continue, stepping into her space. “People respected Lilly because she had the guts to insult them to their faces. Grow a spine and while you’re at it, find some self-esteem. Your gossiping girl shtick is pathetic.”
Spinning away, I shove between Hamilton Cho and several football players discussing keg stands, my hair swinging wildly as I scan the humming crowd. No Duncan, thankfully. I don’t know if I could stomach the sight of him, knowing he was in the guest bed with me at some point.
Glancing right, I spot him: Logan, clustered with Dick, Sean and Luke as the script commands him. I weave my way through the masses, my hand unexpectedly closing around a red Solo cup. I roll my eyes, making a mental note to scold Madison on her immature antics if tomorrow ever comes.
My sole focus is reaching the man who will help me make that happen.
Logan…
LOGAN
She’s here. She’s safe. Air whooshes from my lungs, breath I’ve been holding since entering this lion’s den. She is still with me on this carnival ride, and as long as we’re together, we can survive this night. I know this to be true.
“You seriously won’t share?” Dick hisses in my ear.
“Not for what you’re thinking.”
Dick signals the bartender as Madison storms away. “Dude, you used to be fun.”
“Yeah, and my girlfriend’s brains used to be in her skull. Excuse me.”
She’s weaving between bodies, searching the faces around her. Taking stock of her surroundings, as I did. Even the air hockey table is back, and it’s been gone for two loops. I see Madison at the bar, see the cup stretching out into Veronica’s path. Some things never change.
As her hand closes around the red plastic, I shuffle into her path, beaming with relief.
“Veronica, you made it.”
Her long curls swing as she startles. “Um, yeah. Look, everyone was invited. Meg told me to come, so...”
She shifts to her left and moves past me, but I cut her off. “Veronica, hey, stop. It’s me.”
Pale blue irises flicker with heat as she juts her chin and stares up at me. “Yes, it’s you. And you’re just one person, Logan. It’s not your party. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
She lifts the cup to her lips as she again circles away and my stomach drops. What is she doing? I snatch away the drink, pouring it out on Shelly’s carpet without a second thought. Veronica’s jaw falls slack as several nearby guests gawk and whisper.
“Screw you,” Veronica mutters, fighting back tears.
“No, no, you didn’t want that!” I hiss. “Madison was giving you a Trip to the Dentist!”
“A Trip to… what the hell is that?”
Leaning closer, I grimace. “She spits in a drink and gives it to people she hates. Her mental age is six.”
Her hands gather her curls over her right shoulder, twisting them loosely. It’s a nervous habit, one that emerges in large gatherings or when she’s feeling exposed. It’s the sweet, shy Veronica of my memories, and I’m fast understanding from the pale pink lips and delicate brown eyeliner that this is not the Veronica I held in my arms last night.
“Veronica, seriously, can we talk?”
“What do you want from me?” she pleads.
“To fix this,” I reply. “Us. Please?”
I’ve found it. I’ve found what’s wrong with this loop, and it’s far more terrifying than the bathroom with the void inside it from the last cycle. It’s a loop where I face the possibility of drifting forever alone, and I know that no matter what Veronica’s cat in the box says, I won’t survive this. This is what will finally kill me.
Reluctantly, Veronica nods her assent. “Five minutes,” she whispers.
Five minutes. I’ve worked with less.
VERONICA
Adjusting my ponytail, I weave closer to Logan and wave him over. We have no time to waste. Whatever the missing piece, we need to find it. I can’t imagine this many alternate worlds could be stable. Physics has always been a science of instability to me: bouncing particles, collisions, theories with ever-changing premises and proofs.
I understand math enough to know that statistically, the more times we survive this metaphorical box, the unlikelier it is, that we keep surviving this box in sequence. Eventually, the sequence will break, and we will reach a loop where one or both of us will disappear. And if we do, I have no idea where we will go.
Logan smirks and jostles Dick. Dick scoffs, and laughs aloud. Huh. This seems different, but he does have a cover to maintain. We’re not friends on this night. He’s making an excuse to approach me, I’m sure. I wander to the dance floor, my eyes trained on Logan. My relief at the sight of him is palpable.
He is visibly confused and slightly annoyed as I study his exchanges with Dick and Luke. Should I be blending in with the dance floor? I’m not a mind reader! I eye the cup in my hand, contemplating how best to ditch Madison’s juvenile trick. I’m not swapping spit a third time with her.
Maybe I should throw it at Logan, cool off that flicker of anger in that furrowed brow of his. Why is he so pissed off?
“See something you like?” he jeers from the corner.
Ah, so we’re playing that game. “More like something for science. Tell me, how do four chimpanzees like yourselves manage to work the shot glass and the lime so easily?”
“Same way your head doesn’t flop over with that overinflated sense of self: magic.”
Logan snatches a glass off the bar and stalks towards me. I edge closer to the patio doors, figuring outside will be safer for a private conversation and a way to bail. If we need to re-trace and improve upon our last loop, we need to retrieve the tapes again, something that may be more difficult if the Kane gates have also returned.
My hand is reaching for the silver lever of the glass exit when he reaches my side in a cloud of tequila and terrible ideas. My pulse races as he looms over me like the day my world fractured and I realized I was adrift in my sea of grief, cast out by everyone at Neptune High.
“Why are you staring at me?” he growls.
“Logan? I—“
“Let me guess, Daddy sent you here to spy on me as a new suspect? Didn’t we can his ass?” Logan knocks back his drink and dries his mouth with the back of his hand. “There’s a new sheriff in town, Veronica. And he got his man.”
“And you know he’s not the killer,” I mutter. “Logan, you know the truth.”
“Don’t you start,” he warns. “Lilly’s family has been through enough!”
We’re gathering eyes and as I wither beneath his disdain, my body trembles. This isn’t my Logan. This is the Logan that came to the party the first time, isn’t it? Which means he’s still very, very angry with me.
“No, not them! Although their story doesn’t add up, just like you and I both know you weren’t in Tijuana the day Lilly died.”
A flicker of fear mars his stony features, but only for a moment. That’s right, I know. What are you going to do about it?
“I don’t think you want to have this conversation here,” I continue, jerking my head towards our nosy classmates. “Five minutes, Logan. Please?”
“Veronica Mars!” a familiar voice coos. “What are you doing here?”
Of course she’s decided to insert herself into this conversation. A part of me has always wondered if Madison’s harbouring a crush on Logan. As she rams herself between us, her arm casually rubbing against his, my suspicions intensify. Dick grouses silently across the room as Logan leans away from her.
“Madison! Just the person I’ve been looking for. I believe this belongs to you?”
I thrust the tainted drink in her direction with my best Pep Squad smile. Madison feigns surprise, fluffing her hair.
“That? It looks like regular soda. I only drink diet.”
“Oh, but I’m pretty sure the spit you added to it before passing it my way has dissolved at least half the calories by now, so you should be all set!” I force the cup into her hand, delighting in the splash of cola that mars her pale pink sweater. “A Trip to the Dentist, Maddy? Are you five?”
Madison’s cheeks flush as she waves at Logan. “As if I would do anything like that. Logan, tell this trailer trash to take her accusations and get out of town, just like her unemployed father. Does Santa bring presents to the homeless shelter?”
My fist balls at my side, my arm twitching, but it’s Logan who fires the first shot: “Drink it.”
“Excuse me?”
Tapping the cup, Logan glares at Madison. “Drink it, Madison. If you didn’t spit in the Solo cup, you’ll chug it.”
“I’m on Atkins! Do you know how many calories this is?” she shrieks.
“Okay, Lady MacBeth, keep protesting.” He shoves his empty cup on a shelf housing several trophies earned by Shelly and her brother in athletics competitions and debate. “Five minutes,” he tells me, leading the way outside.
It’s the nicest thing this Logan has said in two months. I’ll take it.
LOGAN
The click of the lock sliding into place on the study door unnerves her. It has me on edge as well. I hate that we’re like this. I hate that I’ve driven her to this uneasy circling, a wary watcher on the perimeter of this polished room.
Words wound, and Veronica has always been one to forget to block. She takes hits directly and deeply. She isn’t battle-hardened like me. It’s why I’ve always danced around her, a court jester deflecting blows. That is, until I started throwing the jabs.
“Is that necessary?” she protests.
“Yes. Because I promised y—“ I catch myself, remembering this Veronica is not my loop companion. “I promised myself that I would make things right. That I would tell you everything, if you would listen. And I don’t trust those assholes out there. Do you?”
Veronica shakes her head quickly, her arms crossing over her chest. “I don’t understand why I should listen to you. Not after what you’ve done.”
“Look, what I said when your dad was questioning the Kanes, it was a little harsh—“
“Harsh?” Veronica is incredulous. “Logan, it was cruel! It was mean. You’ve spent weeks calling us crazy, calling me a traitor, ignoring my calls. After all we’ve been through, after Lilly…”
“He was tearing Duncan’s family apart!”
“He was doing his job! And because of what you and the rest of the 09’ers have done, my family is torn apart,” she counters, edging forwards.
“Your family?”
I’m stunned and seething. I’ve lost everything: the house I called a harbour; the best friend who could be counted on for shelter; the first person I ever loved; and Veronica, holding to the side of the man tearing it all away from me.
“No,” I insist. “You have your family. I have no one. I’ve lost Lilly, Duncan, the Kanes, everyone! Why couldn’t you stand by us, huh? I needed you, Ronnie. I needed you!”
“I lost Lilly,” Veronica whispers. “After Duncan dumped me without a single damn word of explanation. Where were you when he did that, Logan? Where were you?”
I swallow hard, remembering that conversation. Duncan had been cagey, evasive. Insisting it had to end for Veronica’s sake. It felt like bullshit. I’d wanted to comfort her—had tried to, but the bleachers, the old lingering flicker of feeling had bubbled to the surface and I had begged Lilly to step in. To be all that I couldn’t be.
“And then, you abandoned me for trusting my father to do his job. Trusting him to find justice for Lilly. Like I could ever turn my back on him? He’s my Dad!”
Her lower lip trembles and my hand twitches, instinctively wanting to brush aside the tears threatening to fall. I pick at lint on my sweater, busy my unwanted fingers. I forget sometimes that in this world, there are children who love their fathers. Children who find warmth in their orbit from love, not lit cigars.
“Is this what you brought me for? To make up excuses for being a jerk? Because I don’t want to hear it.”
Veronica brushes past me, headed for the door, and my hand snaps out, snaring her wrist. Her eyes widen with fear and I grimace. I could never harm her. It sickens me that I’ve sown that fear inside her.
“I’m sorry. It’s just… Not all of us have Dads like yours. You know that, don’t you?”
She hesitates, glancing at a faded scar on the back of my hand. “Logan…”
“The Kanes aren’t perfect, but it’s a place to go, alright? Or it was, before… And now, I have nowhere to go. I got angry at your Dad, and I took it out on you. Lilly isn’t the only one dead. The Fab Four is dead…”
And so am I. A piece of me died on the concrete behind the Kane house, spattered on Lilly’s uniform. She’s taken the softest part of me with her, and it’s never coming back. How could it ever live on without her?
“We… We could have been a Two.”
My heart is pounding as I release Veronica’s wrist, anxiously awaiting her next move. She remains at my side, head bowed. Contemplative, her hands fidgeting with the belt of her dress, the words are a salve for my weary psyche.
“You chose to be alone,” she continues. “You pushed me away, when we needed each other. Like after the funeral…”
I remember that day. I remember the urge to destroy, to rage. To tear the world apart and watch it burn, render it to ruins for taking Lilly’s light from us. Veronica’s ashen skin and wobbly knees had restrained me. I’d drawn her close as the sobs began, shuddering sighs that wracked her body. My suit jacket shielded her from the brisk wind as we hurried away, finding refuge at her home. Less paparazzi.
She’d cried herself to sleep in my arms on the couch. I’d fallen asleep watching over her. Protecting her. I’d failed Lilly; I couldn’t fail her.
But you did, asshole.
“Not tonight,” I murmur.
“Huh?”
I’m not failing Veronica again. This Veronica hasn’t been violated yet. This Veronica is free of that pain. I can keep her safe.
“I’m not pushing you away tonight,” I catch myself. “I want to make it right. Because I need you, Veronica. As a friend, and to help Lilly.”
“Lilly? Help her how?”
Now that I have her full attention, and maybe a bit of her trust back, I throw my cards on the table: “I don’t believe Abel Koontz killed Lilly. I don’t think you do, either. And I want you to help me find the truth.”
VERONICA
I keep my back to the paper stars. I can’t afford the distraction of their light and the hazy memories they evoke.
Logan is picking at a plate of appetizers—cheese puffs and meatballs on sticks. He’s acting irritated, but leaning towards me, so I know he’s not as angry as he seems. I’ve learned a lot about Logan in the last versions of this night. I only hope it’s enough to reach him and repair what we lost without a salt lick and a roofie in my drink.
Think, Veronica. What did he tell you about his first loop?
He obliterated himself. He was ashamed of himself, angry at me for showing, for flaunting my seeming drunkenness and debauchery. He took it personally. Why did he care who I supposedly flirted with, anyway? Protective Logan, big brother mentality?
No one had ever been good enough for me in his eyes. No one, that is, until Duncan. He’d quietly stepped aside and supported us.
Logan knows violence, not love.
It’s how I’ll need to reach him.
“These balls are unimpressive,” he quips, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“No one cares about your balls, meat or otherwise,” I dismiss. “What I do care about is you. Showing up drunk, the anger towards me, all of this isn’t you. It’s not the Logan I’ve known.”
“Yeah? Well, pot, kettle…” He waves a cheese puff in my face, the scent of whiskey wafting in my nostrils.
“Me? How have I changed?”
He flicks my ponytail absently. “The hair, the gloss… You’ll never be her.”
A sucker punch, I slump beneath his verbal swing. “I wouldn’t want to be.”
“Where’s your loyalty, Mars?”
“Loyalty?” My finger jabs in his chest and he laughs, a startled bleat of a lamb. “Where the hell is yours? You abandoned me after she died, remember?”
“Because your father—“
“Did his job? What a crime. He may have gotten the who wrong, but he’s a good cop, and he had reason to believe the scene was tampered with by the Kanes. And you’re proof that people are lying about Lilly’s death, aren’t you?”
“Lower your voice,” Logan growls, pulling me further around the Pomroy house. “So what, you’re gonna accuse me of killing Lilly now? First you broke us up, now what, you’re gonna get me arrested for something I didn’t do?”
“No!”
This is going so far off track, and I don’t know how to pull him back. He’s so angry and I don’t know how to reach him.
“This is your fault, you know. Your…” His voice trails off as his fist strikes the brick. “Mine… what does it matter? If I’d been with her…”
Guilt and grief. Of course. This is how I can reach him. This is the language I speak, because they are the chains I drag around.
“You are a teenager. And if someone wanted to hurt her, they could have hurt you, too. Or waited for a time she was alone.” Tentatively, I reach out and touch his arm. “And no, I don’t think you hurt her. But I do want the truth of what happened that day, and I don’t think Abel Koontz is it. That’s all my Dad has ever wanted, too. And that’s why I stood with him. He loved Lilly like we did.”
He massages his temples, unable to meet my worried gaze. “It’s all gone. Everything. Lilly, us, the Fab Four…” He laughs bitterly. “No one is safe anymore.”
“Fine. Let’s call my father. Sure he’ll set it up. Arrange coverage on Access Hollywood for you.”
My Logan’s bitter words, irises black as coal. A strange remark about whippings in a town square.
“He’s bailed me out. More than once. Can’t we just leave it at that for now and focus on getting out of this dead cat multiverse thing?”
My distrusting mind had taken those words with Cassidy’s revelations and assumed the worst about Logan’s nature, but knowing the truth about Lilly and Aaron… what if Duncan knows a secret about Logan? A truth hidden behind an unusual scar on the back of his hand and mysterious surfing accidents and oh my God, how have I been so naïve?
Of course he chose the Kanes. It’s where he goes to hide from the monster in his house.
“Logan, hey…”
He bats away my hand, drawing a shaky breath. “Are we done here? Because there’s a bottle of tequila with my name on it.”
I catch his hand, thread my fingers through his and cling tightly. I will tether him to something softer than anger and alcohol. I will tether him to the friendship we’ve forged and pray it saves us both.
“You could be safe with me. That was always a choice.”
A vigorous shake of his head. “No, no…. it’s different…”
“Why? You can trust me… I’ll believe you. I’m listening.”
“Because… Because Duncan—“
“Abandoned me. And you pushed me away for him. How did that work out for us, huh?” I laugh bitterly. “Maybe it’s time we become a Terrific Two.”
Logan rolls his eyes. “I am never using that name.”
“I’m improvising.” I tug gently on his arm, pulling him closer. “And Lilly needs us.”
He’s wavering, I feel it. His hand squeezes mine and his lips crook into that half-smile that he’s always reserved for me. That look of mischief in the making I know so well.
“Veronica, they arrested a guy. That software asshole.”
“And you know, in your gut, that something is wrong, and it’s not the gallon of booze you drank. It doesn’t add up.”
“Wasn’t a gallon,” he grumbles. “Yeah, it all seems… weird. But the Kanes wouldn’t kill Lilly. I know that. Celeste is a bitch, but she was living her life through Lilly. She’d never harm a hair on her proxy’s head. And Jake… he loved her.”
I’m not sure I agree with his assessment of Celeste, but I know the truth, and he is right. I only need to steer him to the evidence.
“And you wouldn’t hurt her, either. But you did come back from Tijuana early, didn’t you?”
“Not here.”
He walks me to the X-Terra, where he unfolds his story. He is consistent, as plaintive and sincere as the time My Logan confessed. He’d driven back early with the shot glass and intentions of reconciliation. At the car wash, he’d had an epiphany and left her a note.
“That note, Veronica… if you read it, you would know I would never hurt her.”
“They found the shot glass,” I inform him. “But the note was missing.”
Logan’s surprise at this revelation swells to incredulity as I suggest our next destination.
“Up for a little breaking and entering?”
LOGAN
“Why are we going to my place?”
I signal for a left turn, tapping the steering wheel impatiently. “Because if I know your Dad, he hasn’t stopped investigating Lilly’s death. And there has to be something there that will help us find the truth. Something that explains why he was so sure the Kanes were lying about that night.”
Veronica’s body stiffens in the passenger seat. “But you said they didn’t do anything wrong! You’ve made my life hell over it!”
“I did, and I do believe that, but… Maybe he had the right evidence, but the wrong suspects, you know?”
I hesitate at the corner of the Sac and Pac, knowing that I should turn right. I’m not supposed to know that Veronica has moved. She has to tell me that herself, and the easiest way to her place is a right from here and a quick trip down a side road. But her old home, the one she grew up in, is straight ahead.
She says nothing. I slowly head through the intersection.
“Oh, oh, wait!” Her fingers fidget with the gossamer of her dress as she stares out the window. “I, um… we moved.”
“Moved? Where to?”
“Take a right,” she replies quietly. “I’ll show you.”
I can sense her shame. I remember her shifting look, the squirming apology as I’d stormed into her space and thrown my arms around her after the frantic search when she skipped the party to research dead cats in boxes. She owed me none. I’d never judged her for not being rich. In a way, I envied it.
No cameras, no reporters, no pretention. No lies constructed in the hands of a holiday coordinator or a publicist. No greeting card family bullshit, just a mother and father…
Lianne. Where is she?
Veronica had brushed the subject aside swiftly when I’d probed her absence before. Something about handling stress? Fuck that. I steal a glance at Veronica, at the way she’s curled her hair like Lilly did for Homecoming last year, and bile rises in my throat. I should have listened to her in the study.
I’m not the only one who’s lost a family, am I?
“It’s here,” she announces reluctantly. “The complex…”
I pull in with a practiced swing, parking where I know she keeps the Le Baron. Impulsively, I reach across the vehicle and brush the hair from her face.
“Hey… You finally have a pool,” I offer lightly.
“Don’t. You don’t… You don’t have to…”
“I know. I’m sorry, Veronica. I am.”
Baby blues peer through heavily coated lashes as she bravely smiles. “Yeah, you better be.”
There’s my Veronica.
Backup nuzzles up to me as we step inside, searching for a treat. I’m usually packing a goodie for him, but this wasn’t planned and I have to disappoint. I whisper promises to bring him a steak as Veronica gestures around the tiny apartment and shrugs.
“Home sweet home.”
“It’s nice. The kitchen is great. Snacks and study space.”
“So, why are we here, Logan?”
“To find your dad’s files on Lilly, because I know he has them,” I reply. “Think like your father. Where would he hide things from you and your mom?”
She studies the modest living room and frowns, shaking her head. “Definitely not out here. Um… bedroom? He’d be so pissed if I went through his things.”
“Not if we get justice—for him and Lilly. If he’s right and Lamb screwed up, then shouldn’t he get his job back?”
It’s not fair of me to press this card, but if our way out is to repeat as many of the right steps as possible, I have to get her to the tapes. And without her confidence in her father’s investigation, she won’t trust me when I say that we need to go clear my name by hunting for a letter in a vent.
I need Detective Veronica on the case.
“You’re right. I’m helping him,” she decides.
Drawers are searched, boxes scoured in the barely unpacked bedroom. I’m starting to panic at our failings until Veronica gestures to the top shelf of the bedroom closet.
“You’re taller. Grab those.”
Two boxes remain: one marked Photo Albums, and another marked Playboys. Bold, Mr. Mars. Almost too bold…
I sling down the Playboy box first. “That label is suspect. Check inside.”
“Ew, I don’t want to know what my dad looks at when he…”
“Fine, I’ll look.”
Untucking the flaps, I jump back as the contents are revealed. Peering out of a Manilla folder is a black and white still image, but my vivid imagination swiftly colourizes it. The green and white of the school colours. The crimson stains of the concrete. Unseeing eyes framed by matted hair of honey.
“What is it?” Veronica asks.
“N-No, don’t,” I sputter.
Her choked gasp fractures my heart and I pull her towards me, clinging for my own comfort as much for hers. It’s the shell of a woman we loved best. It’s not really her. I close my eyes and think of our Lilly: fiery laughter and nimble feet.
“Sometimes, I have nightmares,” Veronica murmurs. “Of that night… Seeing her…”
I hold tighter, smoothing her hair back. I try not to imagine it soaked with blood and bits of brain. Try to remember that she is safe, that I haven’t lost them both. I forget that she was there. I’ve seen the video streamed around the world, but Veronica stood over her, bearing witness to the brutality.
“Let me do this,” I whisper.
I’ll protect her as best I can.
I shuffle the photo to the bottom, focusing on text. Interviews, crime scene reports, an inventory list. This is what I need. I pause on a report from the scene, penned by Sheriff Keith Mars, regarding a conversation with Jake and Celeste Kane. A sound had disturbed their discussion: the shrill tone of a dryer ending its cycle.
My anger had blinded me. They may not have done it, but it was undeniably suspicious, especially from a home where Celeste and Jake were allergic to household chores.
“Look at this.”
Veronica skims the page, eyes widening. “Why were they doing laundry? They came home and Lilly was… And Duncan too, he came home from soccer. He was so upset, he couldn’t speak. He was just rocking on the porch.”
“Duncan doesn’t cope well with stress,” I admit. “He gets like that. Blacks out, rocks, freaks out and doesn’t remember it. A rare epilepsy, I think?”
I reach for the inventory sheet, swallowing hard. Time to confess my own secrets.
“Ronnie, there’s something I need to tell you about the day Lilly died…”
VERONICA
“This is a bad idea,” Logan mutters. “If Celeste or Jake see you…”
Boy, do I know it. But we’re so close to escaping this loop, this fucking time glitch prison. I feel it.
“Celeste and Jake have told lies of their own,” I reply, signalling for their street. “The night Lilly died, they were doing laundry. They came home, found Lilly and started a load of laundry. Who does that, Logan? Could you start a load of whites after seeing her that way?”
He remains silent, his hand gripping the passenger door tightly.
“Duncan was a mess. I was there. He was just rocking himself, staring into space. I don’t think he even knew I was talking to him. It’s why I… I went out back to see what happened.”
Air sucks in between his teeth. “I forget sometimes that you... saw that. You don’t mention it.”
“I try not to… Because it means remembering her.” I shake it off, push it away. “If your alibi is fake, we need to find the letter. If it will prove you couldn’t hurt her, you need that on your side. Because I am not going to sit back and let Lamb arrest the wrong person. Lilly deserves justice.”
“Thank you.” At my puzzled sideways glance, he clarifies, “For believing me.”
“You loved Lilly.”
“I did. I really did. Do… I always will.”
“Me too.”
Much to my annoyance, the loop has restored the Kanes’ security gates to their imposing presence. Logan waves them off, punching a code in a keypad and smirking as the steel door swings open.
“DK isn’t exactly creative with his code,” he explains. “Or his locker combinations.”
I let him take the lead, trusting in his instincts and knowledge of the estate. If this is his second home, he knows its rhythms. He knows the chinks in its armor. He leads me to the back door off the kitchen, glancing inside briefly before keying a code on another security panel.
“We’ll take the service stairwell upstairs. Same way I used to sneak in to Lilly when she was grounded.”
I should have known this would be a practiced run for Logan, given her penchant for pissing off her parents. A few stealthy manoeuvers and we’re upstairs, drifting past Duncan’s room to the hollowed sterility of Lilly’s bedroom.
“If I were a letter, I know where I would hide,” I whisper, heading for the desk.
“Too basic,” Logan dismisses.
“Not the desk,” I chide, lifting the chair. “Short, remember?”
Logan’s eyes widen with recognition as I settle it beneath the vent and dig inside my purse for my knife. It works as a makeshift screwdriver on the loose screws, spinning them easily out of place. I pass him the vent and reach inside, plucking the letter from its hiding place.
“Bingo. But why would she have hidden it?”
“Probably because I referenced our sex life?” Logan guesses.
Yeah, that would do it. Celeste would have had a fit. Lilly kept anything sex-related stashed in her vent until she could move it elsewhere or dispose of it. My palm slides further inside, pulling the tapes closer. My throat is dry as unwanted images of rolling bodies run through my mind.
“There’s something else in here,” I inform him.
I wish I could spare him. I don’t want him to see this. But I doubt he’ll let me take the tapes and watch them alone. He’ll want to know what’s on them. Logan approaches the chair, craning his neck.
“What is it?”
I hold out the three tapes with trepidation. “Why would she hide these?”
He studies the dates intently. “I… I don’t know. Let’s find out.”
LOGAN
“You need to go to the police,” Veronica rambles from the passenger seat. “Just tell them the truth. Tell them why you came back and—“
“And have that idiot Lamb arrest me next?” I jam the brakes hard at the red light. “Have you ever seen a murder mystery? I’m already a prime suspect. If I admit I lied about my alibi, I’m going to jail.”
“But you wouldn’t…”
I laugh bitterly. “I’m sure my word and your belief in it is enough evidence in this town. Tell that to Abel Koontz. The more I think about it, the more absurd it sounds. Kane cheats him out of a patent or whatever, so he kills his daughter for payback? Wouldn’t it make more sense to break into Kane Software and find evidence of the code, or steal trade secrets?”
Veronica frowns, tracing circles on the window. “But the laundry… and Duncan’s epilepsy…”
“I need the letter, Veronica. I promise, I will tell the police the truth, if we find the letter. It strengthens my story and shows my… what’s it called? My frame of mind the day of her death.”
She accepts this and settles back in her seat. I can’t tell her I’m a time-looping prisoner who’s lived this day nine times now. She needs to discover what I’ve already learned the harshest way possible.
“Wouldn’t the police have found the letter? They found the shot glass.”
“Not if Lilly stashed it in the one hiding place adults don’t think of. The one I showed her.”
“The vents!” Veronica exclaims. “Do you really think it’s there?”
Pulling up behind a hedge in the rear of the Kane estate, I kill the engine. “I have a strong hunch.”
The beauty of the collective Kane egos lies in their belief that no one would ever wrong them. It’s how, I’m sure, my father gained access that fateful day. Everyone who’s spent a decent amount of time here knows the primary visitor code (Jake and Celeste’s anniversary). Close friends of the Kane siblings know their codes as well, especially Duncan’s (his birthday, backwards, which he thinks is clever). I punch in Duncan’s code and lead us into the belly of a beast, taking the route that has led me to the safety of Lilly’s room countless times over the years.
It’s not any easier this time. The icy hollow of a vacant space, the absence of a spirit, it is heavy. It crushes my chest as I heft her chair to the vent. If a house is not a home until it holds a family, a room is just four walls until it holds the energy of a person. Without Lilly’s light, we are standing in a cube of plaster and plastic, of wood and woven fabrics abandoned. A life interrupted.
I work the screws free, tossing the vent onto her bed in my haste. Nestled carefully in the space is a folded notebook page and three tapes. I extract the letter first, catching a glimpse of a line folded across the crease.
will always hold a piece of my heart. If you ever need me, for anything Lilz—
“Is that the letter?” Veronica probes.
“Yeah,” I reply hoarsely. “But there’s something else here.”
I tuck the letter in my pocket and grab the tapes, flashing them at her. She tilts her head in confusion, brow furrowed.
“Lilly and I used to make tapes sometimes, but why would she hide them in there?”
“These are dated. See?” I pass them to her. “One of them is marked October first.”
“I’ve got a secret,” Veronica mumbles, staring at the tapes.
“Hmm?”
I hop down from the chair as Veronica turns them over. “It’s what she said to me at the car wash. ‘I’ve got a secret.’ She promised to tell me later, but there never was a later.”
No, there wasn’t a later. There was a polished box lowered into the earth, and flowers scattered atop. There were tears and tossing in bed, sleepless and suffocating beneath the weight of sins.
I grab the tapes roughly, startling Veronica. “Duncan has a camera.”
I need this to be over. I need this to be the last time I face down the truth: that no matter how low I think my father can sink, he can always plumb new depths of depravity.
My vision blurs as I slip the first tape into the camera and play. Lilly’s form kneels on the bed of my pool house, staring up at the ceiling fan. Nausea sets in as I realize the two of us have been on that bed before. I wonder if the camera is always rolling, if there’s a tape of…
“This is the day she died,” Veronica realizes. “Logan, where are the other tapes?”
I select the damning tape, the one two days prior, and jam it in the camera. Veronica watches in confusion and visible discomfort as her best friend gyrates above an unseen man, unaware of the cameras rolling. But her partner knows. He stares right into the lens, proud of himself.
My fist curls, but I spin away, breathing through it. Lilly stares at me from the edge of my pool, haloed in moonlight.
“Nothing good is in there. You have to know that.”
She’d warned me about the pool house. Warned me about him.
“I know you’re not going to make it on your own,” Lilly gently chides. “No matter what you think, you need people.”
Veronica is crying silently, her hand reaching for Duncan’s TV. She’s putting the pieces together, adding up sums and cursing the totals, begging them to be wrong.
“If she took these, he would have been furious,” I tell her. “You have no idea what he’s capable of.”
Reaching for my hand, she thumbs the scar on the back of it. “I think I do. I think I know what happened.”
Her touch scalds me, and I hug her close to my chest. Her hair soaks up the traitor tears I can’t choke back. If she notices, she grants me the mercy of saying nothing.
“Now can we go to the police?” she asks my frantically beating heart.
Yeah, yeah we can. To hell with waiting for her dad like last time. The sooner these are out of my sight, the better.
VERONICA
He recognizes the pool house as the first tape plays.
It’s impossible not to, I suppose: the side camera, nestled within what I vaguely remember as a statue or art piece of some kind, gives it away. His body trembles as he watches Lilly stare up into the ceiling fan, waving her arm and glancing out of frame. I already know the ending of the story: the hidden cabinet My Logan saw during one of his loops, housing the recording gear. But this Logan, he’s pushing the puzzle pieces into place.
The screen cuts to snowy static and he paws at Duncan’s bedspread, fumbling with the next tape.
“Logan, I—“
“This is my house,” he mutters.
This isn’t going to end well.
I’ll never be comfortable seeing this: Lilly, unsuspecting, unafraid, unashamed of herself. Her secret on display. Logan chokes on a sound—a sob, a blurted note of disbelief—as the bodies shift. The reveal is coming and I know it will hurt him. I want to spare him. It’s a car crash and I can’t hit the brakes.
Aaron Echolls is on screen and I grimace.
My hand reaches for Logan’s, but he isn’t there. He isn’t where I left him. There is air and the sound of a bang, a cracking sound like thunder as his fist smashes through Duncan’s closet door. I gasp in horror as he extracts his bloody knuckles, studying the split skin with a mixture of amusement and awe.
I scramble for the tapes, jamming them in my purse. “We have to go,” I insist.
A crimson droplet hits the polished wood floor as downstairs, something stirs. Someone is home.
“Logan, let’s go!”
“No, no let them come see. Let’s show them who killed her,” he insists angrily. “Because he did this. And I’m going to make him pay.”
Grabbing his face, I pull him close. “No, that is not what Lilly wants. He’s already taken her life. He doesn’t get to take yours by sending you to jail. She would never want that for you! Now come on!”
He obeys, following me down the rear steps as Duncan emerges from the main stairwell, leaning on the walls in his state of stupor. A mercy, I think, as we stumble through the kitchen and steal a towel to wrap Logan’s hand. Upstairs, Duncan mutters something about a dog and we slide the rear doors open, cutting across the lawn to my hidden car for the getaway.
“That was too close,” I pant, shoving Logan into the passenger seat. “Let me look at your hand.”
“I’ve had worse.”
I’m starting to realize that. Memories of accidents and week-long flus are taking on a new light, one that shatters my heart. How did I never see? How did I never know how badly he was hurting?
“Let me look after you. It’s what friends do,” I insist, reaching in the glove box for my first aid kit.
I clean his knuckles, fussing over a cut that may need a stitch or two. He won’t hear of it, not until we take care of the tapes. Not until Lilly has her justice. I call my father on the drive away from the Kane house, heading for home to regroup. He can’t make it back tonight, as I expected. No red eye flights.
I want to sit tight. I want to let him handle this. But an itch in my mind tells me that to escape this nightmare, it all must end tonight. It’s why I’m still here, tumbling through this Wonderland like a hapless Alice. Last loop, we’d been so close, but had missed the mark.
I make a sharp U-turn, ignoring Logan’s concerned look. “Dad, I’m going to the sheriff’s station.”
“You sure about that, kiddo?”
“I’ll call Cliff,” I impulsively decide. “He’ll come with us. I just feel like these tapes need to be seen as soon as possible. If Aaron killed Lilly for them…”
Beside me, Logan nods emphatically. We’re on the same page.
“Okay, drive straight there. But call Cliff, alright?”
“I promise. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Throwing the phone in my purse, I remember the other mission we had. Passing the folded page to Logan, I shrug.
“Your letter?”
He waves it away with his good hand, staring blankly at the road ahead. “Give it to the cops. Or don’t. I just… As long as you trust me, I don’t care.”
I do trust him. Because inside of this man is my Logan. I found him in one loop. I’ll find him again.
LOGAN
She calls her lawyer. Her dad’s lawyer. I’m not sure. He seems like a quirky uncle more than anything, but what matters is he won’t take shit from Lamb and the deputies respect Cliff McCormack. The tapes are logged into evidence, and thanks to my anonymous media tip, the station is crawling with reporters.
The truth won’t be buried. I won’t allow it.
They offer us a way out through the back and we accept, cutting through a corridor with a mop sitting in filthy water and several boxes of paper towels. Veronica’s hair is tangled and limp, but she seems lighter somehow. Relieved.
“I’m hungry,” she whines.
“You’re always hungry. How can someone so small eat so much?” I tease.
“It’s the Mars metabolism. Italian and mighty, made for pasta. Ooh, do you think Mama Leone’s is still open?”
I glance at the clock on the wall and frown. “A little late for manicotti, but Taco Bell is an option.”
“Mmm, that’ll do. Fries supreme!”
I step outside, inhaling the cool December air and patting my jacket pocket. Six hits of GHB, six mistakes not made. No salt licks, no songs, no one taking advantage of a friend I don’t deserve, but somehow still can call on.
I’ll never take her for granted again.
“You know, that Denny’s out on the freeway might also be open. I know how much you love bacon… Veronica?”
She’s not here. I’m alone in this rear lot, my X-Terra parked in the farthest corner. Puzzled, I jog up the steps, yanking on the rear door. Locked.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The last thing I need is walking through the crowd of media out front. I’m a fucking neon sign for them. My hand closes on my phone and I scroll to Veronica’s number and tap to dial.
Behind me, a phone rings in the darkness.
VERONICA
“I don’t think Lamb appreciated us ruining his perfect solve rate,” Logan snarked bitterly.
“Screw him. My dad never promoted him for a reason.”
Cliff has taken the reins from me, insisting he’ll manage the evidence and arranging any statements we will give in the future. He wants me home, and Logan somewhere safe—which, in my books, is at my place. Aaron won’t think to look for him there. Hell, no one knows where I’ve moved yet. He protests weakly, but relents when I promise ice cream.
Somehow, the media has learned of our find. I suspect Logan may have tipped them off. I don’t challenge him on it. We all strike back in our own ways. Better this than violence.
“You hungry?” I ask.
“I know you are,” Logan taunts, tugging my ponytail.
“It’s been a very long night! Not all of us stuffed balls in our mouth at Shelly’s,” I counter playfully.
“Oh, was that why you came?” Logan goads, waggling his eyebrows. “I may still have two on me somewhere.”
“Gross!” I laugh heartily, leaning against his arm. “But seriously, food? Please?”
“Whatever you want, Ronnie.”
I’ve missed this. Missed us, and our easy banter. Missed the way I have always felt safe with him. Sacks suggests we take the back way out to avoid press and we head down the rear corridor, Logan pausing at the bathroom.
“My knuckles,” he explains sheepishly.
They’re bleeding again, but only slightly. I urge him along and offer to wait outside, desperately in need of air. This dress is a taffeta and silk oven and I can’t wait to swap it for sweats while stuffing my face with a burger.
The sky is clear and starless as I step outside, inhaling the crisp breeze. I used to love the stars. After the last few nights, I don’t think I’ll ever see them the same way. They’ve lost their beauty and wonder. They are harbingers of poison now.
“Veronica…”
She is here. I hear her, but as I glance around frantically, there is no one, not even Logan. What is taking him so long?
“Lilly?”
Laughter. Soft and melodic, it carries on the wind, growing louder… louder… Wait, that’s my phone? I reach inside my purse, but the call ends as abruptly as it starts.
“Veronica?”
I spin around and my jaw falls slack. Logan is standing on the steps of the station, only there’s something different about him. There’s a gentleness in his eyes, a peace.
Oh God, tell me he didn’t take drugs in that bathroom…
And then, I see it:
“Your hand,” I whisper.
He is running now, running towards me. Studying me with the fascination of a scientist. His fingers toy with my hair, tugging gently on the ponytail.
“Your hair…”
There’s one way to know, one way to be sure. One thing My Logan would know that tonight’s Logan would not.
“Schrodinger,” I whisper.
His lips curve into a grin so wide, I swear the sun has broken through the inky cloak of midnight. My Logan. My time-looping partner. I don’t understand it, can’t explain it, but it’s him. I laugh, a belly-shaking, buckle forward burst of joy and he lifts me in the air, swinging me around.
“It’s you,” he whispers.
“And you,” I echo.
I throw my arms around his neck, noticing those damn puka shells he’s always wearing are gone. My face rests in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him. I am grounded. I am home.
“Ronnie… Do you think we…?”
I don’t know. I hope it’s over. But if it’s not, I know there’s no one better to have by my side. He sets me down and I take his hand, swinging it in a large arc.
“I think so. But if it’s not, I’m going to need food to deal with another loop. I am hungry.”
“And in other news, the sky is blue. Denny’s?”
“Bacon with a side of pancakes? Sounds perfect.”
His arm curls around my shoulders as we venture towards the back of the lot, where our cars sit side by side. I am baffled, but don’t bother to question it.
“We’ll take your car,” I decide. “This time.”
“This time,” Logan echoes warmly, holding open the passenger door with a flourish.
The scent of freesia and vanilla wafts through the air and my hand clasps the tiny charm dangling from my neck. It is a scent I know well. I close my eyes and I can see her, dancing along the boardwalk. I can see her hanging from trees, laughing and singing. I see her fearless grin, and I know somehow, she has been as much a part of our lives as ever.
Lilly was our gravity, our centre. And as gravity will do, she has pulled us back into our rightful orbit.