* * *
“GOOD MORNING, SLEEPING BEAUTY.” THE dry voice cuts through my sleep and I jump up, pushing the headphones off my ears, heart racing, to see Lo sitting on the seat opposite me.
Fuck. Shit. Fuck. I wince, my neck hurting from the position I slept in and my left ear sore from the headphone pressing into it all night.
“Relax,” Lo says, both hands cradling a mug. “Coffee?” She slides a second mug toward me. I eye it, hesitating.
“Are you mad?” I ask sheepishly. I consider saying that I simply fell asleep. But I’ve been caught. Might as well not add insult to injury by lying about it.
She exhales audibly, cocking her head to the side. “Depends. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
I take a sip of the coffee—the black coffee—trying to choke down the bitter taste to buy time. Lo waits patiently, big, expressive eyes boring into me.
“My grandparents have a vacation rental here, and they said I could stay there while I go to school.”
“Mhm,” she prompts, folding her hands under her chin and listening intently.
“They rented it out to a retired couple, and apparently forgot about it. By the time they figured it out, I was already packed and ready to go.” Not to mention, my mom had already sold the house and was on a plane to Hawaii. But I keep that part to myself. “I was staying with a friend at the dorms, but someone complained and, well… here I am.” I shrug.
“Where’s your dad?”
My chest squeezes at the mention of him, and I hope to hell I don’t do something stupid like start to cry. Grief is a weird thing. You think you’re doing fine. You think you’re over it, for lack of a better phrase, but the smallest thing can have you choking on despair. Scents. Places. Songs. Nothing is worse than being blindsided by a song, and with my dad, there’s a song for every occasion. “Alison”—my namesake—by Elvis Costello, “Good Riddance” by Green Day, the song I chose for his funeral, and pretty much anything by Radiohead are some of the biggest offenders.
When I don’t answer right away, Lo continues. “You did used to come in with him, right? Or am I crazy?”
“You’re not crazy,” I say, trying to keep my voice light and easy. Unaffected. “I didn’t think you remembered us. He was in a car accident last year. He didn’t make it.”
“Shit,” she breathes. “I’m sorry. I never know what to say in these situations. Other than that sucks.”
I huff out a laugh. “That it does.”
“And your mom?”
I sigh. “My mom…is a complicated creature.”
“I get that more than most,” Lo says bitterly.
“She thinks I’m at my grandparents’ vacation rental, and my grandparents think I have other arrangements until their place opens up.”
Lo nods, appearing to consider something. Her lips twist as she studies me for long seconds, before seemingly coming to a decision, slapping her palms down onto the table.
“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.
“You do now.”
“I do now what? I’m not following.”
“Have other arrangements. Get your crap. You’re coming with me.” She stands, gathering my stuff.
“Wait. You’re not suggesting—”
“That you stay with me? Yeah, I am.” Her eyebrow is raised in a challenge.
“That’s super nice of you and all, but I can’t.”
“I know that I was in your position not too long ago, and someone took a chance on me when I needed it the most. Without him, I don’t know where I’d be right now.”
“Dare?” I ask. I don’t know their story, but it doesn’t take a detective to put the pieces together. Lo nods.