I let out a little snort as we walk into the first bedroom. It’s a pale blue-gray with yellow-and-white-striped bedding and little lamps with shades wrapped in lace. There’s a huge painting of daffodils on one wall and a mirror trimmed in shimmering white shells. At the foot of the bed is a long wooden box with a wicker lid. I run my hand over one of the dark blue pillows scattered on the bed. “I’ll take this one.”
“Sure you don’t want to look at the other one?” Asher asks, glancing toward the open bathroom door.
“Why, did you do something to it?”
“Maybe I did something to this one.” His brows hitch, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’ve never seen this room before.” He smiles. “You wouldn’t even know what was wrong.” He looks around the room. “It could take you days to figure it out. Weeks, maybe.”
I shake my head at him. “I’m good. I like this one.” I sit down on the bed and bounce a little. “This window faces the lake.”
Asher shoves his hands into his pockets again. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he turns and walks through my bathroom door, closing it behind him.
I lay back on the bed and watch the fan spin in slow circles over the bed. This room smells so fresh and clean it’s unnerving. I take a deep breath and try to find any of the musty lake smell I’m used to, but all I smell is the fresh linen candle on the brightwhite nightstand, and the lingering smell of Asher. I walk over to the bathroom door and twist the lock roughly. This is the last time he’s going to be in this room, even if I have to barricade my door.
DAY 10
Sidney
When I see the piece of paper lying on my bed, my first thought is that we didn’t even make it twenty-four hours in this house without Asher invading my room. My second thought is that I need to do a full sweep to figure out what he’s done. Everything on my dresser looks normal. Usually if Asher messes with my room, the telltale sign is him messing around with all of the crap I keep neatly organized on my dresser. He finds some sort of sick pleasure in leaving things in complete disarray. I think of my bathroom items and know I’ll need to check that out, too. But first, the paper.
It’s a postcard-size piece of white paper with Five Pines written across the top in dark blue—from one of the little notepads Nadine puts in every room of her houses. I collected them all when we left and shoved them in my bag—the most ineffective, passive-aggressivescrew youof all time. Though it did make my vindictive little heart happy to put them in the kitchen drawer of our new house.Ha. In your face, Nadine—I stole your stationery.
I grab the paper off of the bed and read the words written in neat blue pen.
Meet me at midnight
on the dock.
Asher.I mentally add the signature, because while his name isn’t there, the list of people who could have left the note is short. Cryptic notes aren’t really Sylvie’s or Greg’s style, and if Mom and Dad wanted to talk to me they’d just do it. No need for midnight meet-ups and mysterious notes. Plus, even if there was a full roster of suspects, I’ve gotten enough ransom-style notes from Asher to recognize his handwriting. Between dinner and then our first campfire here, I wonder when he had time to sneak in here. But just as quickly as I think it, I remind myself that we live in the same house now and he’s just one room away. I locked the bathroom door, but I had never expected him to be bold enough to just come right into my bedroom from the hallway. It’s a whole new ball game now. One where we have a frightening amount of access to each other. I suppose I should be thankful that we’re sharing a shower, so there’ll be no more Kool-Aid in my future.Note to self: never shower first.
By eleven thirty I have the rest of my room unpacked. Kara texted me and convinced me to go to another party next weekend, since I tanked our last plans by forcing us into a last-minute move. Ishouldjust go to bed. Avoid Asher’s mysterious meeting, and crash. After a full day of packing and unpacking two families’ worth of stuff, I’m exhausted.
Don’t go.It buzzes in my brain like a dying lightbulb, warning me this absolutely can’t be good.Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.
But at 11:59 I’m not lying in bed, I’m slipping on my shoes and traversing the wooden stairs down to the dock. There’s one light pole by the walkway, but we haven’t figured out where the switch is yet, so it’s pitch black beyond the small halo of light that surrounds our deck. On the set of wooden stairs leading to the dock I stub my toe on an uneven step and barely catch myself from falling. Maybethisis Asher’s secret plan—let me tumble down the stairs and roll to his feet. Possibly unconscious.
I don’t see him on the dock until I’m about to kick him with my foot. I let out a little squeak when I realize the dark spot is his body. He’s sitting on the edge about halfway down, his feet dangling into the water.
“You scared me,” I mumble, standing awkwardly next to him as he drags his feet through the water like a little kid seeing the lake for the first time. He doesn’t get up, so I slip my shoes off and squat down next to him, sitting down carefully on the old wooden dock.
“You rang?” I say quietly, because my voice feels riotous in the dark stillness of the night.
“I wrote, actually.”
I spread my hands out in front of me. “And here I am.”
There’s a long beat of silence as we both fidget our feet in the water, our eyes firmly fixed on where they’re submerged. My eyes have finally adjusted to the dark, and I sneak a glance up at Asher, who sucks in a long breath, like he’s about to confess to something horrible. After all we’ve done to each other, it has to be truly awful to have him this nervous.
“I want to call a cease-fire.”
I don’t say anything. I’m not sure I heard him correctly. Maybe I did stumble down the stairs, and this is me, in an unconscious otherworld where Asher isn’t Asher. Maybe I’m dead. Or this is a dream.
“A truce,” he clarifies.
“I know what a cease-fire is. I’m not an idiot.”
“I would never call you an idiot.” Asher sounds annoyed. Maybe he’s as tired as I am.
“Why?”
