While I painted my bedroom, the ambush ran on a loop inside my mind. I wanted to discuss it with August; I wanted to get his opinion on the matter but was worried about what it might be. What if he aligned with Lucas and Liam and insisted Sarah was atraitor?
Could someone else have sent me themessage?
No,it had been herhandwriting.
Had they forced her to write the message? My fingers itched to call her, but what if they’d forced her to con us? Then getting a message from me would only seal herfate. . .
Dusk was falling when I emerged from my bedroom, dizzy with worry and paint fumes. “I’mdone.”
August glanced away from the baseboard to which he was adding a final coat of white paint. “I’m almost finishedhere.”
“Me too,” Jeb said, dragging the lambs-wool roller over the ceiling in the hallway. Paint dribbled down his arm and onto the plastic tarp blanketing our lustrous floors. “How does Chinese takeout sound to you guys? I could go get some while this last coatdries.”
August caught myeye.
“Um.” I bit my lip. “I, uh . . . already haveplans.”
Jeb nodded even though disappointment was written all over hisface.
August rose from his crouch and dunked the brush into the almost empty paint bucket. “Maybe you could change your plans,Ness?”
I tipped my gaze up to meet his and mouthed athank you. “Yeah. Maybe I could meet my friendafterdinner.”
“Or maybe your friend can join you for dinner,” August said, and my heart performed a little backbend because inviting said friend would reveal who said friendwas.
“It’s okay, Ness,” Jeb said. “Derek’s always up for getting out of his house. Let me callhim.”
“Yousure?”
“Yeah.” He rolled the brush one last time before setting it down and going to grab his phone from the kitchen counter that was also covered in plastic. He dialed Derek, exchanged a couple words, then gave me a thumbs up. After they disconnected, Jeb grabbed his car keys. “I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t lock up,okay?”
“’Kay.”
As soon as the van vanished down the short driveway, August came at me with a predatorial gleam in his eyes that made him look more wolf than man. “You have some paint”—he dipped his fingers inside a bucket, then raked them down my side, over the patch of bare skin beneath my crop top—“righthere.”
Goose bumps rose beneath the white paint dripping down my ribs. “Huh. Clumsy me. I must’ve brushed up against awall.”
He smiled, then brought that smile closer to mymouth.
“A very big one,” Iadded.
“Very big,” he echoed. “We should clean you up, and I know just theplace.”
I rolled my eyes but smiled nonetheless, and it dispersed some of my clingingstress.
When car beams splashed the window, I sprang away fromAugust.
Jeb blustered back in, face so white it looked as though he’d dunked it in the bucket of paint. “Ness! Ness, you . . . she . . .Lucy. . .”
My spine snapped into alignment. “Lucy what? What happened,Jeb?”
“Lucy is . . . at Aidan’s.” He was breathing so hard I had trouble understanding the next words out of his mouth. I caught the last, though. “Dead.”
“Dead?Lucy’s dead?” Iasked.
My uncle shook his head from side to side. “No. Maybe Aidan. She doesn’tknow.”
Color leached from August’s skin. “What do you mean, she doesn’tknow?”
