Perhaps.
I push the blanket off of me and jump to my feet. There’s no such thing as an unserious cry for help, and while I can’t know for sure if Connor is really in danger, I get the sense he shouldn’t be alone right now. I can always call Sophia for backup if something’s really wrong—her mom seems like the kind of woman who wouldn’t hesitate to help a Wickham student in need. “I should probably go.”
“But the movie isn’t over yet,” Sophia protests as she watches me fold up the heavy blanket and leave it on the couch.
“I know, but it’s stressing me out how I only have a couple of days to read that entire book.” Sophia can fully understand being stressed about an assignment, right?
“Oh, I totally get it.” She nods. “We’ll finish next time?”
I nod and take a beat to give her a warm smile—because I really do hope there’s a next time. I’m out of the house in minutes, shocked by the darkening sky and drop in temperature once I’m outside. Mrs. Harrington offered to drive me back to campus, but I declined, telling her a walk would help wake me up for all the reading I have to finish tonight. Now, cold and adrenaline send a shiver down my spine as I map myway to Connor’s location and turn my phone’s flashlight on, stumbling my way through the damp field that separates the Harrington estate from the rest of the Wickham campus. I turn a hard right just before I’m on official campus grounds, drawing closer and closer to where Connor is. I come to a stop when I see the massive tree looming ahead of me.
Realization hits me like a punch to the stomach. I know this place. Or at least I’ve seen it before.
It’s the very tree that appears in my mother’s favorite family photo.
Right by the cliffs where Emily died.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Iapproach the tree with trepidation, my steps careful, the beam from my phone’s flashlight trembling slightly thanks to my sudden case of nerves. I round the tree and come to a stop when I find Connor sitting beneath it, drinking from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag.
“Well, isn’t that terribly American of you.” My statement is flat, my apprehension high. I don’t like seeing him drinking. Alcohol brings nothing but problems. Look at my poor, addicted mother. Add in grief, social upheaval, and an actual cliff a handful of yards awaywhere someone died recently, and the optics on this situation go from bad to worse.
“Billie! You came.” He pats the space beside him. “Join me.”
With reluctance, I settle in beside him on the soft, damp ground. He leans into me as if he needs the support, then drinks from the bottle and smacks his lips after he swallows. “Want a taste?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
“More for me, then.” He shrugs and tips his head back,chugging from the bottle.
It takes everything I’ve got not to snag the bottle and hurl it over the cliff, though I’m positive I couldn’t throw it that far. Satisfying imagery, though.
“What happened?” I ask him, keeping my voice gentle.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, something triggered … all of this.” I gesture vaguely at him, the bottle, the scenery.
A ragged sigh leaves him. “Life is just so damn unfair, don’t you think?”
Don’t even get me started, is what I want to say, but I remain quiet.
“After everything that happened with my father, it’s just been one shit show after the next.” He sets the bottle down heavily on the ground, causing it to tip over, but not much runs out. Meaning the bottle is pretty much empty. “He’s being framed.”
“Who?”
“My father. He would never do something like this—steal from his friends.” He shakes his head, his expression grim as he stares at nothing. It’s getting darker by the minute out here. “Someone is trying to take him out.”
I want to roll my eyes. Come on. More like a rich man got greedy and now has to pay the price for his crimes. Connor’s life has been so charmed, he can’t imagine a world where there are consequences for a person’s actions. I guess it’s hard when your life has been so good that you can’t see someone’s faults, especially your parents. The people you love and admire. Unless you’ve been raised by a trainwreck from minute one and all you can remember are the bad times. The selfishnessand destruction. The disappointments and lies.
Ask me how I know.
“Maybe a llama is trying to take him out,” I suggest to see how he might react.
