“Drop it.”
My words come out clipped. Harder than they need to be, but I don’t take them back.
The air between us fills with unspoken words. I brace myself for whatever she says next, knowing I won’t like it. But Lou doesn’t push. She’s always been good at that, knowing when to stop.
“Fine,” she huffs instead, and I still don’t face her because if I do, I’ll see it—the understanding,the disappointment, or, even worse, the pity.
I hate it when she looks at me like that, so I keep my head down. It’s easier that way.
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves.” Lou’s gaze moves past me, out over the yard where the pool reflects the gray sky, the surface unbroken. She goes quiet as she thinks, lifting her arms to gather her shoulder-length hair and pull it into a loose ponytail, securing it with a band from her wrist. Just like that, she’s younger, less like the woman everyone answers to now, more like the girl I grew up with back in Ashport, sitting beside me and talking about nothing.
The one who learned how to lead with soft words and a smile, without breaking people. A rare skill in our world.
Lou takes a sip of her coffee. “Becky doesn’t know anything, does she?”
I knew it would come down to this. All our secrets.
“I’m not sure what she knows,” I say, which isn’t totally a lie. As much as I’d like to think it’s my stunning personality that brings Becky out to the clearing every day, I’ve considered the alternative.
The possibility that it’s not me she’s after, but what I am.
My name. The Order.
“Rosewood isn’t subtle once you’re inside it. She’ll notice things. Anyone would.” There’s no accusation in Lou’s voice. “And once she starts asking questions…” She trails off, not finishing the thought. She doesn’t have to.
I lean back slightly, interlace my fingers in my lap. “We don’t answer them.”
“You know that’s not how this works,” she says quietly.
The silence between us turns heavy.
“You’re right,” I say finally. The words ring hollow as soon as they leave my mouth. My eyes go to Ashford House. To my room. To her.
“But I’m not sending her back.”
Chapter fourteen
Bossy
Becky
It’s the morning light that wakes me.
The curtains are drawn, heavy, dark brocade, like it was pulled from another century, but one has slipped open enough to let a thin beam through. It cuts across the room and lands directly on my face, glaring andinsistent.
I groan, rubbing at my eyes.
“Carrson?” My voice is rough, unused.
I glance around the room, expecting the shower, footsteps, anything, but there’s nothing. He’s not here. My chest twinges at that, gone before I can examine it. I linger a moment longer, listening to the silence, before finally swinging my legs over the side of the bed and letting my feet find the floor. The motion is slow, like my body hasn’t caught up yet.
That’s when I see it: a folded piece of paper on the nightstand beside my pillow, my name written across the front in blocky, evenly spaced letters. I unfold it carefully.
Becky,
I had to run an errand this morning. I’ll be back soon.
Stay in this room. I mean it. Don’t leave.
