Fuck.
He tries to beat her to it, but his legs are shot, and she’s faster than she looks.
“Millie, wait!” he calls out, ribs cramping as she flings the door open and disappears into the house.
He finally catches up in the foyer, and she’s heading for the landing, and the gong, but he reaches her at the bottom of the stairs, catches her sleeve, and spins her around to face him.
“Calm down,” he says, squeezing her arms.
And this close, he can see every detail etched into her face. Can see the cogs turning and knows what she’s about to do. He tries to put a hand over her mouth, but it’s too late. She’s already started to scream.
The sound tears through the foyer, bouncing off the walls.
“Goddamn it, Mill,” he snaps, gripping her tighter.
“Let go!” she shrieks, and he has to fight the urge to shake her. They had a deal.
“Don’t be like this,” he pleads.
“Get your hands off her.” Priscilla’s voice cuts through the chaos like a whip, and it turns out a scream is just as good as a gong, because when he looks up, they’re all there at the top of the stairs: Cate, hands to her mouth in shock; Kenzo, holding what looks like an antique ax, freed from one of the walls; and Priscilla, eyes blazing and arms crossed.
Jaxon lets go, and Millie stumbles backward, breath hitching. He puts his hands in the air as Cate hurries down the stairs toward Millie, who’s sitting on the bottom step.
“I can explain,” he says.
“Get away from her first,” warns Kenzo, but Jaxon ignores him, because Cate’s rubbing Millie’s back, and she’s dragging in dramatic breaths like she’s about to have a panic attack, even thoughhe’sthe one with a reason to freak out.
“Hey, hey,” he says, lowering his voice. “Three green things. Find them. Look around.”
He does it with her—scanning the foyer, letting his eyes land on a potted plant, a pair of boots, Cate’s sweater—and by the time he looks back to Millie, she’s breathing normally again.
Which is weird, but also kind of impressive. He’s never recovered that quickly.
“Now,” says Priscilla. “What the ever-loving hell is going on?”
“Malcolm,” says Millie, sniffling, and Jaxon flinches as she says, “He’s dead.”
Even without his glasses, Jaxon can see the horror roll over the group. Priscilla’s hand flying to her mouth. Cate’s mouth falling open.
Kenzo shakes his head in dismay. “What happened?”
Suddenly Millie won’t meet his gaze. “I saw Jaxon—”
“I didn’t push him!” he cuts in, but Kenzo lifts the ax in warning. “Hey, you’re not talking right now.” He looks back at Millie. “Go on. Tell us what you saw.”
Millie takes a shallow breath. “Malcolm was standing at the cliff’s edge. Just past the bench. Facing the sea.” Her gaze flicks toward the floor, and he thinks,Believe me. “And then I saw Jaxon running at him.”
Only he was runningtoward, notat, and there’s a big fucking difference between the two, but it’s okay, he tells himself, because he didn’t do anything wrong and—
“And then he pushed Malcolm over the edge.”
“Goddamn it, Mill! That’s not what happened, and you know it!” Jaxon doesn’t remember moving toward her, but his body must have twitched in that general direction because suddenly Kenzo’s standing in his way, a look likeTry it, and Jaxon remembers how much he hates guys like Kenzo Gray.
Guys who don’t even have the decency to be insecure about their looks, or their work, whose heads aren’t full of static and shitty voices telling them they’re nothing, because they had nice, happy childhoods with parents who told them they could be whatever they put their minds to, and moms who didn’t get hooked on oxy after foot surgery and dads who didn’t fuck off to other families.
Guys who never had to become somebody else.
“That must have been so awful,” Cate murmurs to Millie. “I can’t even imagine—”
