“It wasn’t someone else, though. That’s the thing!” He slaps a hand on his forehead and looks at the ceiling. But if he expects the stars to help him out, our skylight is a few feet to the left. “It’s an interesting philosophical question, I suppose. Are you the same person now as you will be ten years in the future?”

I freeze. “What did you say?”

He starts. Looks at me slack-jawed, as though he’s just realized what came out of his mouth. “N-Nothing, sweetheart,” he stammers. “I’m tired. Overworked. I have no idea what I’m saying.”

“You’re talking about time travel.” I’m sure of it. As positive as I am that the Voice is lying. “You’re saying Mom was jealous because you were talking to…her older self. Is that right?”

A horrified look crosses his face, and he stumbles backward, crashing into the wall. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “This was a breach in protocol. I’ve said too much.”

“But I know about the future,” I say, my mind spinning. “A voice has been coming to me, too.”

“We can’t…talk…about it,” he wheezes. “Your mother and I discussed it so much that it changed the future…and then she left. I will not lose you, too.”

“Dad, wait.” I reach out a hand to stop him. “Don’t go. I need your advice.”

But it’s too late. He turns and runs from the room as though a pack of wildebeests is chasing him.

I blink. I knew it! Dad’s involved with the future. Those peculiar turns of phrases weren’t coincidental. But if I’m right, then Mom was incensed at…herself? She accused my dad of having an emotional affair with her older self, ten years later? Is that even possible?

Massaging my temples, I try to wrap my mind around the concept. I suppose, yes. I mean, I have an older self tricking me. Clearly our selves at different times are separate entities, with our own agendas.

I have so many questions. What did Dad mean, he didn’t want to lose me, too? And how was he visited by my mom’s older self? I want to go after him, but it won’t do any good. Dad doesn’t talk until he’s ready. I should know. Hell, I probably inherited my stubbornness from him.

So I’m left exactly where I started this night. Sick of my own company. Bored of hoping for the Voice to appear. Tired of the way my stomach twists every time I think about Archie.

More than two days have passed since I’ve seen him. Neither Dad nor Zeke knows exactly where he is, but they’re not worried. He told Dad he was going on a research trip for a few days. I have no choice but to be wait. After forty-eight hours, however, I’m all out of patience.