What She Left Behind ✔️

chapter eighteen

"Is that cozy enough for you?"

"Super cozy."

"Good." I pull the quilt up to my chin and stare up at our blanket sky. "We did a pretty great job, didn't we?"

"We did amazing." Evangeline turns on her side so she is facing me. "Thanks for all of this, Gemma."

"Of course. It was fun."

And it was. We moved the couches so they were across from each other and then draped bed sheets over them to create a fort. Inside, we filled it with pillows and blankets to make it snug. I think if it were up to Evangeline, we'd sleep in here for the rest of our lives.

"Did you and my mom really do things like this?" she whispers in a tone that isn't quite sad but definitely isn't gleeful.

"All the time," I reply. "She used to spend more time here than at her own house."

"And she lived down the street, right?"

"Yep. Her grandmother raised her."

"I know. I have a picture of Great Grandma Harriet holding me when I was a baby," she says.

"She died when you were one," I tell her, remembering the old lady fondly. She was strict and set in her ways, but she was always good to Raelyn. "She was a wonderful woman."

"I wish I could have met her. I never had any family except for my mom," Evangeline murmurs, wrapping her arms around herself. "All the kids in my class have cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles, dads, mom.... I'm completely alone."

"Hey, look at me." I perch myself on my elbow and meet her gaze. "You are not alone, alright? You have me, my parents, Bowie—"

"But you're not family," she interjects. "You guys are awesome, but like Carla said, you're not blood."

"'The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,'" I mutter.

She blinks. "What?"

"It means that the bonds we form are superior to genetics," I elaborate. "Blood doesn't make family, Evangeline. Sure, it's important, but it isn't everything."

"I thought it was, 'Blood is thicker than water.' I never heard anything about covenants or wombs."

"That's because it's highly misquoted. You learn a lot when you major in English."

She rolls her eyes, her lips parting into a smirk. "Brainiac," she mumbles.

"I did well in school. I'm not ashamed."

"My mom used to say school was overrated."

"Your mom never had a chance to go to college. She doesn't know what she missed."

"Why didn't she go?"

Because of you, I'm half-tempted to say, but instead, I tell her, "Life had other plans for your mom."

"What about my dad?" she asks bluntly. "Did you know him?"

I shake my head, recalling my unpleasant conversation with Marco. "I'm beginning to think none of us knew your dad."

"So you have no clue who the guy is?" She frowns. "I was hoping you could tell me."

"If I knew, I would, but your mom... well, she kept a lot of things to herself. Your father's identity was one of them."

"That's too bad. It would be nice to know where I came from. My teacher tried convincing me a stork dropped me off at the front door when I was a baby."

Well, that clarifies if Evangeline knows how babies are made. I shouldn't be surprised. She may be a kid, but she has an old soul.

"I'm kinda tired." She rolls over and faces the other side of the fort. "I'm gonna go to bed."

"I think that's a good idea." I caress my thumb over her hand. "Goodnight, Evangeline."

"Goodnight," she mumbles, her voice already heavy with sleep.

I wait until I hear her gentle snoring before I sneak out of the room. I find my laptop on the kitchen counter where I left it. I grab my purse off the floor and reach inside for the flash drive.

I can't find it anywhere.

Frantically, I empty the contents of my bag onto the table. I find car keys, my wallet, chapstick, mace, three chewed up pens, a pack of gum, an empty tube of mascara, a Costco receipt, a keyring, an invitation to a birthday party I never went to, a freaking chocolate bar I've had since Christmas.

But no flash drive. The only thing on this planet that might be able to enlighten me as to why my best friend killed herself is gone.