Who had she lost? Not for the first time, Celeste dropped a hint that something bad had happened in her life, something that was somehow worse than an apocalypse-prepping cult.
“Celeste…” He stared at her, confused. “None of this is your fault. You didn’t ask for anything but a ride. I wanted to do it. I came up with this half-baked scheme to fix you because it’s all my fault. I’m the one who gave you that fucking book,” he said, volume rising. James heard it and pushed off of the couch. He walked a few paces and stood with his forearms crossed. “Whatever it is you’re carrying? It’s probably not your fault, either. You seem to blame yourself for a lot.”