Page 61 - My FlipBook

FIVE

“We should apologize to him,” Ash said, his shoulder against
Greta’s on the bus. The front door swiveled open for a new
passenger, letting in a gust of frigid air. Greta turned her head
away from a couple making out near the front of the bus,
focusing on Ash’s face instead. She zeroed in on a few strands

of hair against his temple. Brown, dark, brunette, chocolate. She
mentally listed off all the possible words for their coloring.
Eyelashes: jet-black, inky, coal colored. Methodically Greta
named every adjective she could think of, sucking in a breath
to stave off that dizzy carsick feeling. Ash narrowed his eyes
and watched her face. What did he just say? Right. Apologize.
To? She looked around, still avoiding the front, like the one
needing the apology was sitting beside them. Nate. Yes, Nate.
Relief at being able to find the thread of conversation.

“You should apologize to him.” His words, their conver-
sation, kept her there with Ash, prevented her from sliding
toward panic. They hadn’t seen Nate in two days, either
coming or going.

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