✯ North Star ✯

7 - The Redfield Revelation

The Wreck smelled like fried fish and grease, which honestly fit my mood — heavy and kind of gross in equal measure, the smell settling into my hair the second I walked through the door. Kie spotted me the second I walked in and gave me that half-grin she reserved for when she already knew something was wrong and was waiting to hear how wrong.

"Hey." She folded her rag over the counter. "What's up?"

"Ugh. So many things." I slid into the nearest booth and slumped down until my chin was almost level with the table, the vinyl seat cool against the backs of my legs, my whole body suddenly heavy with the weight of the day.

She sat across from me. "Spill."

"Okay. So after we ran from the lighthouse — John B goes on his whole rant. I tried to calm him down, hugged him, told him he needed to pull it together. He shoved me away." I looked at the ceiling, feeling the memory of it land fresh in my chest, the phantom cold where his warmth had been a second before. "Before he could say anything else, the cops showed up. I still grabbed the compass to help him. Because apparently that's who I am. After your dad bailed him out, I gave it back to him, and he still wouldn't look at me. So I told him to figure out why and let me know when he did."

Kie shook her head slowly.

"Then later, I see him on the dock. And for like half a second I think, okay, maybe he's coming to apologize." I felt the hope of that moment flicker through me again, embarrassing in retrospect. "Nope. He bumps my shoulder and accuses me of getting him fired. That it was my fault. Total bullshit." I dropped my head onto the table, the wood cool against my forehead. "So I walked off before I said something I'd actually regret."

"What is he thinking?" Kie asked.

"Tell me about it," I said into the wood, my voice muffled and small.

The door banged open before she could say anything else. Pope came in like he was already three minutes late for wherever he was going, chest heaving.

"Perfect. You're both here. Let's go," he said, still catching his breath.

Kie blinked. "Where are we going?"

"The cemetery."

I lifted my head, something in my stomach already sinking at the word. "Why the cemetery?"

"John B's back on the compass."

"Of course he is," I said, and put my head back down, the ache of exhaustion pressing in behind my eyes.

"Stel, you coming?" Kie was already standing.

"Nope. Have fun without me."

"Why not?" Pope asked.

"Ask John B," I said flatly.

They exchanged one of those looks — the kind that said they'd piece it together themselves — and left. The door swung shut behind them.