Page 22 of The Unmaking of June Farrow

The next entry was three days later, just when I’d begun to convince myself that I’d imagined the whole thing.

July 5, 2022

2:11p.m.—A horse running on the side of the road. She disappeared.

The pages were filled with dozens of other dates and times. Music. The smell of bread baking in the oven. There were times I’d seen someone in a reflection or heard footsteps in the house. Once, I’d even called Mason out to the farm late at night, convinced someone had broken in.

Each time, I pushed the hallucination away, breathing deep and closing my mind to it until it stopped. I repeated the words.It’s not real, June.

If Gran really was in two places at once, could that mean that I was, too?

A tap on the door sounded, and I turned to see the shoulder of Mason’s jacket through the curtain.

I let out a frustrated breath, closing the notebook and covering it with a few of the pages that were scattered across the desk. I stepped carefully over the documents on the floor until I was in the hallway. His shadow rocked back and forth in front of the window before I opened the door, and he took a step backward when I pushed through the screen.

His gaze went from me to the inside of the house as I closed the door behind me. “Hey.”

“Hi.” I tried to sound normal.

Mason’s clothes were covered in dirt and pollen, which meant he was on his way home from work. “I called earlier,” he said. “Was worried when you didn’t come by the farm.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to call me back?”

I glanced at the street, where a car was pulling into one of the driveways. I could lie to Mason, but I couldn’t look him in the eye when I did it. “I’ve just been dealing with some of the paperwork left from Gran.”

He wasn’t buying it. I could tell by the way his head tilted a little to one side. “June.”

“What?”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I snapped.

“Nothing?” His eyebrows lifted knowingly. “Really?”

I stared at him, digging my heels in.

He let the silence drag out for a few seconds before he stepped past me to the door.

“What are you—” I caught hold of his arm, but he pulled free, letting himself inside. “Mason!”

I followed, wedging myself ahead of him in the narrow hallway. When he reached the sitting room, I put a hand on his chest to stop him. But he froze as soon as he saw what I was trying to hide.

His eyes moved over the room slowly, landing on every scrap of paper I’d laid out. He was still—not just physically, but something about his countenance changed, making the house feel colder. When he finally looked at me, there was a strange look in his eyes.

“June.” His voice lowered. “What is this?”

I exhaled heavily, pressing both palms to my cheeks as if to cool the heat igniting there. “It’s just family stuff.”

“Why is it all over the house like this?” He was holding back now, being careful.

“I’ve just been…looking into something.”

“Looking into what?”

“Just something about my mom.”