“What was that noise?” Lily asks, unable to see Coconut’s vigilant routine. “Connor?”
He’s staring at the ceiling. “An object fell.”
“By a ghost?”
Thuuump! is followed by a long, sharp groan…maybe a human groan. No. There’s absolutely no way. We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one else is here. I made sure of it.
Animals.
There are live animals upstairs.
I will butcher whatever rodent has decided to lodge in our house. Mice, I think. It’s probably an infestation of them.
Ryke immediately rests a hand on Daisy’s head, her forehead coated in sweat, her breath shallow, struggling to swallow air.
Ryke whistles, and I see Coconut’s white fur round the corner. “Lie down, Dais.” He helps my sister on her back to combat the start of a panic attack, and the dog curls onto Daisy’s chest, the applied weight acts as deep pressure therapy—I’ve seen it help her once before.
Footsteps patter upstairs. I stand and grab my baby monitor, listening for Jane. I can hear her soft snores, which eases me a little, but I plan to check—
More footsteps. It’s not a person. It’s an animal.
Lily flings off the quilt. “Moffy,” she says, bolting towards the staircase, baby monitor still in her clutch.
“Lily, wait—” Lo runs after her, and then Willow sprints in the complete opposite direction, through a darkened hallway.
Without second thought, I race after Willow, feeling Connor hot on my heels. When she hurriedly ascends another staircase, Connor beats my pace and passes me, brushing my shoulder with his hand like it’s okay. He knows…something that I don’t.
The second-floor hallway is pitch-black. I try to flick on the lights, but nothing happens. Connor takes out his cellphone and turns on the flashlight portion, a blue glow illuminating Willow as she tries to turn the knob of a certain door.
She bangs on the wood. “Are you okay?”
I rush to her a little after Connor reaches and asks, “Is he in there?”
Willow says quickly, “He didn’t have anywhere else to go. I made sure to blindfold him here. I promise, he has no idea where this place is.”
I raise my chin, in battle mode with Connor. I pull Willow back closer to me so he can open the door. When he does, he points the flashlight at the room, illuminating the quilted bed. An eighteen-year-old boy sits on the edge, a lamp shattered on the floor. He holds his bare foot, as though trying to check the sole…blood trickles—a piece of glass lodged in the bottom.
“Are you okay?” Willow tries to rush closer, but I yank her back to me.
“You’re not wearing shoes either, Willow,” I tell her.
He hangs his head in more guilt than pain, I think, his hair falling into his eyes. “I tried to turn the lamp back on. I ended up knocking it over and I…” stepped on the glass. He winces, trying to pull out the shard in near darkness.
“Don’t,” Connor warns. “Rose, can you go get a first-aid kit and check on Jane?”
“I’ll be right back,” I say.
Loren’s half-sister snuck her friend into the house. I’m sure she had a reason for this, but it doesn’t assuage the fact that an eighteen-year-old little asshole has been camping out upstairs and my youngest sister is terrified downstairs.
And by the look on Connor’s normally stoic face, he’s not pleased either.
48
CONNOR COBALT
I learn that Garrison has no phone on him. He gave his cell to Willow when he stowed away in the Escalade’s trunk, wanting to show his friend that he had no plans of deception. When we first checked out the house, Willow stayed back and “called her mom” so she could sneak Garrison inside.
It’s basically all I gather before Rose returns with the first-aid kit, Jane in arm, and a pairs of shoes. “I want to talk to Daisy and Lily,” she tells me. Her eyes ping to Willow.
“I’m sorry, Rose—”
“I understand what it means to be loyal,” Rose says, “but you shouldn’t have kept this from us. If you wanted to bring your boyfriend along, we could’ve worked something out.”
“Friend,” Willow amends, paling and avoiding her “friend’s” eyes.
Garrison looks at Rose. “Would it make it better if we were dating?”
I answer, “It would make it exponentially worse.”
He shuts up and hangs his head again, beaten more by his own guilt.
Willow hesitates by the door frame and focuses on Rose. “Can I explain…I want to apologize to Daisy too…?”
Rose nods. “Follow me.” Both girls disappear.
Maybe a minute later, Loren enters the room with candles and Ryke comes in with a broom, already up-to-date thanks to Rose. Since all the girls want to be together, the three of us decide to take care of the mess upstairs.
Loren lights candles around the guest bedroom while Ryke sweeps the glass. I sit on the bed next to Garrison with the first-aid kit.
“I can do that,” he says while I take out the tweezers.
I pass them to him. “You need stitches, and the nearest hospital is more than two hours away.”
Ryke sweeps harder, pissed off since Garrison scared Daisy for a second time, but he’s not about to say: I’m not fucking driving him. He would drive Garrison. He’d drive anyone to the hospital because he cares too deeply about human lives.
I’m not that way with just anyone, but I appreciate when other people fill the role.
Garrison seems to grind his teeth back and forth, his eyes clouding, and he glances quickly at me. “Can you stop watching me?” His voice is as serrated as Loren Hale’s.
“I could, but I’m waiting for you to answer me.”
He nervously inspects his foot, the tweezers hovering above the glass. He says something under his breath that I can’t hear.
“What was that?” I ask, easing the tone of my voice for him.
His nose flares and he shouts, “I’m not going to the hospital!” He jabs the tweezers towards the door. “I promised her I wouldn’t ruin the relationships she’s made with any of you—and if I go to the hospital, people will see you, take stupid pictures, and everyone will know whatever nowhere-ville state we’re in. So no, I’m not going.” He takes a strained breath and focuses back on his foot, jaw tight.
He has a heart. And maybe he has learned from his mistakes. Enough for me to forgive him for his past transgressions? It may take longer for me to want to spend my time on him, but I can forgive. I can give him that.
“Relax,” Lo snaps. “We’re not going to force you to do something you don’t want, but I would like to know why you’re here.”
Ryke crouches to sweep the glass into a dustpan, his face darkening. “If he’s here to get laid—”
“What?” Garrison cringes. “No.” He recoils at Lo’s glare. “Not that I don’t like Willow.”
Ryke joins in on glaring at him, so he turns to me for comfort. My face is welcoming among the hard and rough edges of Ryke Meadows and the sharp and jagged ones of Loren Hale.
Garrison says with bite, “Some starship trooper nerd asked her to prom, okay?”
“Declan,” Lo says. “You know who he is. Lily told me that he stops by Superheroes & Scones at least four times a week.”
“To try to talk to Willow,” Garrison complains. “And what the fuck kind of name is Declan?”