Page 265 of One Wild Wish

I didn’t reply. Eleven years—something about the number rang a bell. I closed my eyes, ran through all I’d learned the past two days, fragments spinning, blurring. They rolled and rolled, until…

“The Greyhound employee.” I clutched August’s thigh. “He said the suitcase went missing in 2001. The diary and contents were from 1990. That’s eleven years.”

Like two synchronized swimmers, we turned our heads in time, slowly lowered our eyes to reread the new page. August tapped the journal’s edge. “Not sure what it means, but I think you’re right. The two timelines have to be connected.”

“More questions,” I mumbled, but the answers felt closer.

“We could call the number and see who picks up.”

I shook my head. “If that number was my mother’s, a secret cell or something, she won’t be picking up. If it belongs to someone else, I’d rather be prepared for whoever might answer. We should follow the other clue first, the one that mentions the hill.” Continue on the journal’s path.

We closed the book, the weight of its final clues thickening the air between us. Air already heavy with our personal tension. August was allowing me to set our pace, determine our course. Problem was, I vacillated between wanting to slow things down and fast-forward to jumping his bones, his impending departure hovering above it all.

Freaks and Geeks. Freak Show. Freaky Friday.

Dammit, I was doing it again.

He snickered at me. “I’ll meet you there. Actually, I’ll beat you there because my way is faster.”

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m right. I also plan to kiss you before I leave this car.”

“August…”

“Just a small one, Possum. There will be no sex.”

He invaded my space, ran his nose up my cheek. My belly swooped in a shivery rush. He was doing his best to distract me, like he’d done as kids. It was him being the fixer, but I didn’t sense the pity I’d witnessed back then—him making me his project. There was sadness behind his playful banter, empathy in his soft gaze.

As always with him, my mind quieted. All freaking out ceased.

Closing my eyes, I turned my head toward him. It was the only direction it could go. His lips brushed my cheek, by the corner of my mouth. His nose fitted alongside mine. Our lips lined up, and so, so softly he kissed me, a slight opening of his lips to capture mine. Our eyelashes fluttered together. His breath tickled my tongue. Heaven was built on kisses like this.

He pulled back, and I barely refrained from reaching for him and demanding more. I had firsthand experience with August’s kissing mastery, and the man was holding out, teasing me by rationing his skill. It wasn’t fair. He knew it would break my resolve. But we had a time capsule to unearth. A secret to discover. And we were losing time.

* * *

Although we were still alone, the lookout was less romantic during the day. San Francisco sprawled in all its glory below, but no stars lit the sky. The sleepy quiet of night had been replaced with movement. Cars. Birds. City sounds.

August and I stood side-by-side like we had not long ago, the backs of our hands touching. “I hit traffic,” he said, still moaning that I’d beaten him here.

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

“My way’s faster. In a scientific study, I’d win.”

“But you didn’t. And you’re wrong.”

“We’ll do it again tonight.”

“We have birthday drinks tonight.”

Our last night together. I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend it with my friends this year. A daunting decision. If I ditched them on our shared birthday, Ainsley would mix Tabasco sauce in my toothpaste, but I kept spinning things with August in my mind, fear overtaking my hurt. The idea of him leaving with us in limbo, our status unclear, was worse than getting a mouthful of hot sauce.

If I asked him to spend the night with me alone, take the time to work things out, he’d say yes. He might tell me he loved me again.

Would I find the courage to say it back?

He stood beside me now, taking in the view. His arm wasn’t around my shoulder. He wasn’t bathing me in his sultry voice. The inches between us stretched into miles, because I’d imposed another rule: the no sex rule. Like my seconds rule. Weak attempts to control the uncontrollable while my life unraveled.