Huh? That’s strange.
There have been a few cards delivered by guests who can’t make it, but those are addressed to Uma Cookie and Prince Von Munchalot. Code names we supplied to keep Ivy and Rogue’s names out of the post.
This one is upside down and taped on. I’d thought the berries were from the garden but perhaps Adira or Ivy ordered them in.
I roll my gaze to the ceiling. Am I seriously getting creeped out by a simple white envelope? It’s probably just the order invoice.
I detach the envelope from the basket. Discarding it on the counter, I place the rest of the berries in the fridge. I pause with the door open and nibble my lip. What if it’s not an invoice? What if it’s something we should pay attention to?
It’s hard to shake how dangerous and stealthy Alec was. How easily he and Jackson inserted themselves into our homes.I’ve become suspicious of the most innocent things. But it doesn’t matter that I’m probably overreacting. I have to know, or I won’t be able to relax.
My belly tightens and my pulse speeds up as I shut the fridge and snatch up the envelope. The flap isn’t sealed. It untucks easily.
Inside is a card, not an invoice. I slip the card free and open it.
It’s a recordable card, and when I open it, a woman’s voice lets out a blood curdling scream. I drop the card, jumping back and letting out a cry of my own.
Clutching at my chest, I stare at the upside-down card lying on the floor while my heartrate slowly returns to normal. I pick it up once I’ve come back into my skin.
The card isn’t for Rogue and Ivy. It’s meant for me. It’s not signed, but it doesn’t need to be when the message inside is:Leave, Slut. Or I’ll make you.
Duke and I passed many notes back and forth in high school. Love notes I read over and over. I knew every curve and slant of his handwriting. It’s still familiar after all these years. Only this time, it’s a clammy, prickly sensation that fills me.
He knows I’m here. It must be unsettling to have the truth right under his nose.
I toss the card into the trash.
He has nothing to worry about. No one ever believed me anyway. As soon as the wedding is over, Rebel and I will be on the first flight home. Away from this hell hole and everyone who lives in Devil’s Bend.
The corner of the card sticks out from the trash, taunting me while I discard the bucket of strawberries into the chicken scraps.
I can’t let my brothers, or anyone else for that matter, find this. All that would do is send them into a frenzy.
I fish it out and slip it into the zipped pocket in my handbag. I’m not sticking around long enough to cause trouble for my brothers. They’re already putting all their energy into giving Rebel a hard time. This would make them impossible to deal with. It’s best they don’t know.
Speaking of, where is Rebel?
I situate the pitcher of Jett’s homemade lemonade on the tray next to the glasses and glance at the clock on the wall. Owen made the clock out of an old barrel top for Mother’s Day one year. He burned the ranch brand into the wood. She’d absolutely loved it and it’s been the centerpiece of the kitchen since.
After all these years, it still keeps perfect time. That bittersweet blend of love and longing hits hard. I miss my mom, but it’s more than that. I feel like I miss Rebel just as much and he’s still here with me.
I uncork a bottle of champagne and add it to the tray. How do I get the closeness we had back if he’s avoiding me?
Adira enters the kitchen. He’s changed out of the gorgeous outfit he wore to breakfast and into glittering snakeskin cigarette pants and a cropped gold cami. He swoops his mega lashes down over his perfectly contoured cheeks. “Can I help, lovely?”
“Have you seen Rebel?” I pull a tray loaded with cheese, crackers, and antipasto out of the fridge and hand it to him.
His eyes widen and shoot to the clock. “He’s not back yet?”
“Back from where?” I scoop up the tray of drinks, then put it back down when I notice the way Adira’s gaze darts side to side. “What’s going on?”
“He said not to worry you with it.” He stares at the clock like it doesn’t make sense. “That can’t be the time.”
“It is.” I don’t like the expression on his face. “You know where he is.”
“He said he would tell you when he gets back.”
“Back from where?” It clicks before he says another word. I march through the house toward the front door.
