I get it, though. The longing when you can’t have who you want.
Memories of Lucas watching me last night wash over me. You’ll never be able to act like I’m your friends’ little sister again. When he looks at me, he’ll remember what he saw, and when I look at him, I’ll wonder if he wants to see it again.
The backdoor opens, and I hide the diary before even looking up.
Aro strolls in. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
She stops and heaves a sigh, looking around.
I bow my head, going back to jotting down my to-do list for tomorrow. “In the cooler.”
I hear the spring in her step as she dives into the walk-in refrigerator. She emerges with two pink lemonade cupcakes, half of one already in her mouth. A summer staple I quickly learned that she loves.
“Hawke thinks we’re going to skinny dip tomorrow,” she says, taking a seat across from me. “But I’ll be too sugared up to stay awake.”
Skinny-dipping. I should add that to my list. If Lucas still has it. It occurred to me somewhere in the middle of the night last night that we checked one thing off.Performing.
I keep my smirk to myself, but it’s hard.
“Here to talk me into letting you in the tower?” I ask her.
“I’m here for the cupcakes.”
I toss her a glance, but keep from reminding her that I’m not stupid. Hunter might feel like he owes me conversation for stealing treats, but Aro isn’t chatty.
But while she’s here…
I stop writing, resting my chin on my hand. “What do you know about the Legend of the Night Ride?”
She shrugs. “It’s your legend, not Weston’s.” She licks the frosting and then clears her throat. “Hawke says that there’s a rider out there,” she tells me. “Just searching.”
I think of the black car that followed me in the dark. No headlights. “Searching for what?”
She shakes her head. “He just follows you with his headlights off,” she goes on. “One night, he saw a young guy at a gas station. It was late, dark. When the kid finished fueling, the rider drove out in his car from just behind the building.”
It had been waiting for him?
She continues, “It followed him, and when he was on Blackhawk Road, he noticed the vehicle in his rearview mirror. He turned, it turned. He sped up, it kept up.” She peels the wrapper off the second cupcake. “He raced home, dashed up his porch steps, and turned. Headlights blinded him.”
Never lead danger home. Never lead it to you when you’re alone.
An ancient memory from when I was a kid surfaces. My parents’ basement. Flashlights. Dylan, Hawke, Kade, Hunter, and me telling ghost stories. Another urban legend lesson.
“He can’t see the figure emerging from the car.” She sets the cupcake down and leans in. “They say he was killed by whoever was driving, but Hawke and I never found a record of it. But the locals started having fun with the story anyway, and that part is well-documented. Just slightly before your brothers’ time in high school, locals copycatted the Night Ride story. Some high school kids would follow a girl they liked, or sorority girls would follow a teacher,” she explains.
“What would they do?”
She picks up the cupcake again. “Whatever manifested, I guess. Scaring each other.” She takes a bite. “Maybe some foreplay.”
Realization hits me. “Like the Marauders back in the day in Weston.”
“Mm.” She nods. “But sometimes, it wasn’t fun. Sometimes the person being chased realized too late that it was him instead—the real rider—and not some friend playing a joke. It got bad, so they stopped.”
So the rider attacked several people.
“If you see him,” she says in a teasing voice, “don’t lead him back to your house. Drive to a safe place. Or…just keep driving.”
