22
Waiting sucked—especially when I didn’t know what I waited for. Once I’d finished making Connor’s necklace, and one for Beth, I had nothing left to occupy me. Even pinning up the Sator Squares had done little to alleviate the ever increasing panic over what Jess could know.
Because deep down, I knew it had to be bad.
The clock read four pm, as I paced the kitchen. I mentally calculated the drive to Jess’s house, wondering if she’d be angry if I showed up demanding answers on Christmas Eve. How would her kids react to their aunt turning up in no mood for festivities?
I marched through to the others in the living room. “Nate, I need the truck keys.”
He c****d his head. “Where are you going?”
“Tomorrow is too long,” I said. “I’m going to Jess’s to get some answers.”
Nathan narrowed
