I took a breath and stepped onto the porch. The front door swung open. Apollo burst out, nails scrabbling on the front porch. Mia caught his collar with one hand, holding him back. Her anxious gaze scanned my face, searching for answers. "What happened?"
I didn't have to tell her. Her face went pale. She knew. Of course, she knew. The diary was out there now. There was no more hiding.
I stepped into the doorway. Apollo pressed himself against my knees, whining eagerly. The house smelled like his fur, last night's pizza, and the lemon cleaner I used on the countertops.
Mia’s hand was still on the doorknob.
Mine closed over hers. "We need to talk."
Chapter Seventeen
"We're going to the beach," I said to Mia. "Get your jacket."
Mia hesitated. She wore pink sweatpants and an oversized Taylor Swift sweatshirt, her hair pulled into a damp knot at the nape of her neck.
"Now?" she asked.
"Now."
Her eyes flicked past me, to the kitchen, the living room, anywhere but at my face, as if searching for an escape hatch. There wasn't one. Not this time.
Apollo whined eagerly. He paced in tight, anxious circles by the door while I pulled on my sneakers. When I opened the hall closet to grab his leash, he trotted over, his whole tail end wagging in anticipation.
"At least let me change."
"You're fine," I said. "Shoes, Mia. That's it."
She raised her chin at my tone, but she knew better than to argue. She disappeared into the mudroom and came back, slipping her bare feet into her white knockoff Vans.
I locked the patio door behind us and pocketed the keys. We walked along the road to the community beach access north of Rowan's house.
Mrs. Atkins was in her usual rocking chair, her cardigan wrapped around her shoulders. She stared at us, nodding when we passed. I nodded back.
We strode past the leaning oak at the corner of Wyld Wood Lane and Windward Point to the community gazebo and the wooden staircase leading down to the beach. All 179 steps.
Apollo scrambled down the stairs, his leash taut. The air smelled like wet earth, pine needles, and fresh water. The steep bluff was choked with bushes, weeds, and a few scrubby trees.
We descended the last stairs. The beach spread out before us, a hundred feet deep, stretching as far as the lighthouse to the south and further than we could see to the north. Ahead of us, Lake Michigan dazzled a rich cobalt blue. Blue water under a blue sky. The horizon line was hazy.
We discarded our shoes by the stairs, our feet sinking into the sand. The waves rolled in, low and steady. The wind off the water was cold, needling through my jacket as I unhooked Apollo's leash and let him run.
He exploded into a joyous sprint along the wet strip by the waterline, his legs flinging arcs of sand everywhere.
The beach was almost empty. A man in a dark parka walked a golden retriever near the bluff. Farther down, a couple stood shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the water. No one was close enough to hear anything unless we started shouting.
I didn't know how to start the conversation gently, so I just came out with it. "Vivienne showed us Leah's diary."
Mia's mouth pressed flat. "Oh."
Every bitter detail from the diary looped in my head. "She read from it. Your name is in there. A lot."
The color drained from Mia's face. She knew what was coming.
The waves hissed and sighed. A gull wheeled overhead. We trudged along the firmer sand where the waves had just receded while Apollo darted in and out of the waves, water beading his flanks, sand clingingto his fur.
"Leah wrote about being bullied. Why didn't you tell me what was happening?"
Mia kicked at a stray piece of driftwood and didn’t answer. We kept walking. I waited, giving her space.
