Dinner needs to be special; it’s Charlotte’s last night in town. I’m less worried about her traveling now that she has Cheddar. Not that Charlotte is any kind of damsel, but having loyal backup never hurts. Our back door whines on its old hinges as I’m re-reading the faded directions on the back of a pasta box.

  “We don’t need to use that yet,” Charlotte mutters, putting down her basket of eggs with exaggerated care. Like it's taking all her energy not to slam it down.

  “You’re been wanting to try it.” I say sheepishly.”

  “Uh huh.” She rolls her eyes and marches through the kitchen with heavy steps.

  I sigh, putting the box down and leaning against the counter. The door squeaks open again as Benji asks, “She’s still angry?”

  “Brilliant deduction.” I rub my closed eyelids.

  The silence in my kitchen has substance behind it.

  “What?” I snap.

  Benji jumps, his arms flat on his side. “Nothing.”

  I groan and stare up , counting the cracks in in our ceiling. Even now, I can hear my mother telling me to ‘Just spit it out.’ while I stammered and tried to think. I know better.

  My breath escape in a heavy sigh. “What are you thinking?”

  He swallows , eyeing me skeptically. I wave my hand in a come on gesture. He still won’t look at me as he says, “I’d just told Jonathan he was an idiot for barging into the mall. Then he got bit.”

  I peel my eyes from the ceiling and kick a cabinet. The gesture sends a sharp pain through my leg and slam a fist on the counter. Surprisingly, Benji is less upset by this outburst than when I yelled.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Stay here.” I point at the floor and make my way upstairs.

  Charlotte is slapping clothes into her go-bag, her back rigid. “What’s you drop down there?”

  “Just kicked the cupboards,” I grumble, leaning against the doorframe. “You know I’d never go into business with Norman.”

  “Of course you think that’s the problem.” Her voice is terse. She still doesn’t look at me.

  I blink, genuinely confused. “It’s not.”

  “Good god,” she sighs, finally condescending to look at me. “You are the dumbest smart person I know.”

  I flinch and her eyes soften. She shakes her head, that messy bun flopping side to side as she goes back to packing. “You can’t keep making decisions for both of us.”

  “You’re almost never here.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “I’m not talking about what you plant in the garden or even bringing him home.” She jerks her head, indicating the stairs. “You don’t tell me the important details.”

  I try to stammer, but Charlotte finally turns, grabbing my face.

  “Can you even love me if you won’t trust me?”

  “Can I really trust you when you want to leave?” I regret the retort as soon as it’s out of my mouth. Charlotte reals away from me, like she’s expecting a blow.

  “You could always come with me,” she mutters.

  “You want to go north.” I shake my head. “The cold will be murder on my body.”

  I can’t count how many times we’ve had this conversation. Neither of us is sure what we have. We don’t want the same things, but neither of us wants it to end. Not yet.

  “It’s not just that.” Charlotte wraps her arms around herself, shivering despite the sweltering heat. “I could suggest a new city right now, you’ll make up twenty reasons why we can’t start over.”

  I look at the floor, unable to argue.

  We stand there for a long moment, only the cicadas making any noise. She blows out a breath, turning away from me. “Here we are again.”

  I gulp, staring at my feet.

  “Let’s just–” she slams a wadded shirt into the pack. “Let’s just eat dinner. Okay?”

  I nod, swallowing. “I’ll go get the pasta started.”

  Dinner should be awkward; there’s no way Benji didn’t hear us. But it’s like our fight bled the tension from us, making room for everything else in our relationship.

  We laugh and swap stories, Benji even grins while trying to sneak scraps to Cheddar.

  In the morning, Charlotte will take the illusion with her.