I have vertigo again, though I’m still sitting in this chair, still holding Isla’s hand. I rub my thumb over her palm andclose my eyes, tracing the fine lines on her skin like they hold the answer to all my questions.What did you know, Isla? What do you want me to see?
My eyes slam open.
My heart pounds in my chest.
All the fine hairs on my arms stand straight up.
I lock eyes with Peter. His expression is racked with guilt and pain, and seeing him like this somehow confirms the idea that just shot through me like a bullet.
“Dad?” I hesitate after saying the word and swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “I might know what happened to Isla.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Iwake up to a gentle hand shaking my shoulder, a woman’s soft voice whispering my name. Not Belinda, either.
Billie.
I’m disoriented at first, my entire body aching as I slowly sit up. I fell asleep with my head resting on my crossed arms on the side of Isla’s bed. Must’ve been exhausted to sleep like that for so long, but it also makes sense. The last few days have been an emotional roller coaster.
“Billie.”
I glance up to find Whitney standing beside my chair, a small brown shopping bag in her hand. Diffused light from the windows on the far wall illuminates her silhouette, and my sleep-groggy brain supplies an observation my mouth isn’t awake enough to keep to myself. “Tessa Thompson. You. Her,” I babble, rubbing crud from my eyes. “You could be sisters.”
“Aren’t you sweet in the morning,” Whitney says. “A little blind, maybe, but sweet. Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I return, though in an instant, I rememberthere’s not much good about today. It’s Friday. My time is up, and I’m no closer to saving my sister from potentially being arrested.
Wait a second.
Iamcloser.
I need to get to Wickham. I need—
I start to rise out of the chair, but Whitney puts a firm hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place. “You need to eat something before you start your day. I brought coffee and an egg sandwich.”
I sag into the chair with relief and accept the paper cup Whitney offers. I cradle the warmth as I take a tentative sip, heat from the liquid spreading through my hands and up my arms. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”
“Eat the sandwich,” Whitney demands, though it’s not a cruel command. “I’m sure you’re starving. You never ate dinner last night.”
I don’t bother telling her I never ate anything at all yesterday. I was too upset, too nervous, too overwhelmed. I take the sandwich from her and unwrap it, the delicious scent of meat, egg, and cheese hitting my nostrils. My stomach growls, and I take a big bite. Then another.
The sandwich is gone in seconds. Usually I’d be embarrassed to wolf down food so fast, but I’m not this morning. The pleased expression on Whitney’s face as she watches me eat makes me feel a certain way, and I realize it’s the fact that she seems to get joy from taking care of me. I’m not familiar with that sort of thing, and it makes me sad.
But I have no time for sadness, I think as I wad up the sandwich wrapper. Whitney holds her hand out for it, and Igive it to her, watching as she tosses the paper in the trash bin.
“That was delicious,” I tell her. “Thank you again.”
“Of course. I also brought you a change of clothes.” She settles the shopping bag in my lap, and I peek inside. Yet another one of those soft cashmere sweaters—this one navy—and a pair of jeans, plus undies, socks, and shoes. Loafers. I would never wear any of this back home, but now it all feels … right. Not just for Belinda, either, but for me.
Billie.
I meet her gaze, wanting her to know my feelings are genuine. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”
“It’s all right. I come every morning anyway, to see Isla. And, well … I wanted to talk to you. Peter told me the two of you worked through some things last night, and I’m so glad. When all of this is over—” She chokes on the last word and takes a second to compose herself, though her lips quiver. Like she’s this close to completely breaking down, thinking about all the horrible ways this situation can end. “When all of this is over, I hope you’ll consider joining us here. For the summer. And maybe even … beyond that. We would love to have you.”
“But my mom—”
“Your mother will be welcome as well. There’s a guest house on our property … Frankly, I think it’s high time you’re not the only one taking care of Samantha. I don’t care if the past is painful for Peter or even for me. Her pain can’t be allowed to destroy your present, or your future, Billie. Which reminds me, we must have a serious discussion about where you’d like to go to university.” Whitney’s smile is nervous, and she seems to brace herself for … what? My possible rejection?
