He sat back on the couch and a little further from me.
“What? Did I do something?” I had only said he was a good person.
He shook his head. “You’re you. You’ve been wonderful, Waverly. In the woods. I can’t...” Greer’s head hung forward, and he took it in both of his hands. “This isn’t real.”
“What’s not real?” I couldn’t tell what he meant because this moment felt very real.
“If you only knew...”
“Knew what?”
What didn’t I know? Tons. Anything, really. He didn’t answer, but whatever was upsetting him was big. Greer continued holding his head. He was struggling with something. I knew so little about him; I didn’t even know where to begin. He’d held emotions together so well that it was easy for me to forget that he was on this trip too. With everything we shared, I still didn’t know much about him. He was missing people just like I was missing people. He had a whole other life, and that life might include a family, a wife and kids.
The thought woke me up. I moved over too and pulled my housecoat closer together. I tried not to think about it, but after a minute I was compelled to ask him, “Do you have a wife and kids?”
Greer laughed. “No. Nothing close to it. You?”
I laughed too. “No. I’m seventeen.” I thought about it for a second. “Wait, what day is it?”
“July 17th.”
“Guess I’m eighteen now.” I’d lost track of time on our hike. I’d been eighteen for over three days and hadn’t noticed.
“Happy birthday.” Greer handed me the little fisherman from the table. “A gift from Cloverfield.”
“Thanks,” I snickered. “So thoughtful of you.” I held the fisherman in my hands. “I was thinking of a theory on this Cloverfield guy.”
Greer shifted uneasily beside me. “What are you thinking?”
“I bet he’s living a dual life. He’s got mansions, right? He’s spending his time in Europe with some model, yet he’s got this cabin. He’s rich. He makes those chocolates, but then he makes those stupid health bars. I think he wants to be outdoorsy but more in theory than practice.”
“Maybe.” Greer shifted over in his seat, so we were even further apart.
“Or he’s a double agent. Maybe he’s really Galvantry.”
Greer sat stone still for a moment.
“I’m right!” I squealed. I’d been wrong so often I’d forgotten what being right felt like. “Aren’t I?”
If Greer moved any further from me on the couch, he’d tumble to the floor. He grabbed the remote for the basic, boring TV. “We should watch the news or something.”
“Wait, I am right, right?”
“Waverly—”
“Ha!” I was right.
Greer turned on the TV. “What do you like watching?”
“Anything, don’t care.” The word care came out as a yawn. The coffee was doing nothing for my energy levels.
I tucked into my side of the couch. Greer wouldn’t confirm my suspicions, to protect Cloverfield. The two were probably friends. I fell asleep before the first commercial ended.
In the morning, I woke up in a bed upstairs. Greer had carried me upstairs last night after I had fallen asleep.
Lying across a sitting chair was a blue sundress, and on the floor was a pair of strappy sandals. A sun hat was hanging on a hook. Resting on the desk was a new pair of fancy-schmancy sunglasses. Greer. He had arranged for all of this. He had somehow gotten me a dress and shoes. I slipped everything on and tamed my curls with hair gel. I had to admit; I looked nice.
When I saw Greer, he kind of knocked the sense out of me. He was wearing a white button-up shirt, folded at the sleeves, and a pair of gray pants. So close to that fantasy. So handsome.
When he saw me, he stopped what he was doing and stared at me.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Morning.” He said nothing else and looked me up and down several times. It felt nice to be more like myself in front of Greer.
“I’m going to need your ring and necklace. The ring is in your description, and the necklace is famous. I’ll give it back after the professor’s.”
I didn’t want to take them off for even a minute, but I didn’t want to get caught either. I handed them over, and Greer slipped them into a concealed pocket at his waist.
“So this professor, who is he?”
“He’s a professor of religious studies with a special concentration in prophets and oracles.”
“So you think he’ll know this Pythia person?”
“Yes.”
I noticed two leather suitcases by the door. “Nice bags.”
“Oh, those. Our bags would look suspicious on the train with us so—”
“Normal?”
“Yeah.” Greer grabbed a plate and put a Cloverfield bar on it for me.
My shoulder’s fell.
“Kidding. I made eggs and bacon.” He handed me a coffee mug instead.
I sat down. He remembered how I liked my coffee.
“Thank you,” I said while Greer plated my food.
Greer was staring at me again. “For what?”
“Everything.” Everything covered breakfast and the dress and last night. I wanted to mention carrying me upstairs to bed but my cheeks were getting red already and I didn’t need an excuse to go crimson.
“I’ve taken care of the arrangements.” As always. He took the stool next to mine.
“It was nice, being inside. Sleeping in a bed.”
“Taking a shower, not eating my stupid bars,” he added with a large sigh. “It was all nice, better than nice, but it wasn’t real.”
Again, not real. It felt genuine, it all felt tangible and nice, but this place wasn’t a place we could stay. Last night was a rest from danger, a danger we were walking right into this morning.
Chapter 32
Station
Greer and I only had a short walk down a path before we came to a flat road. Tree limbs littered the side of the road from last night’s storm. After a short two-mile walk, we reached town.
As we strode down the streets, Greer took my hand in his. A woman and her three young children passed us on the sidewalk. My body
