I need to get out of here.
“I’m still trying to figure out who came back here seven months ago. I think this woman,” she says, looking at me fromthe tips of my boots to the top of my head, “the one who’s looking at me like she's not sure if she wants to deck me or hug me is the kind of woman I consider unpredictable. Before...” She shakes her head, cutting her words. “Before you were gone, I knew what to expect. But now, I have no clue.”
I stand and walk toward the still-open doors that lead to the garden, just as my mother rushes out to the kitchen, full of added drama, as usual.
The one person I didn’t expect to see me so clearly just read me like a book. I’m still not sure who I am here, and I’m not sure if it’s more comforting or frustrating that she knows that about me. It feels like it knocks the wind out of me. I need to get out of here. I shake out my fisted hands.
“She wanted to keep this away from you girls. It’s the one thing she’s always stuck to her guns about,” Birdie says as she watches me linger in the doorway. “You know your mother, she’s a wild card in every way, except when it comes to you and your sisters. There isn’t much she wouldn’t do to make sure you all feel safe.”
The problem is, it doesn’t matter what either of them wants. There was a time when I wasn’t safe, not even close.
“I have to go,” I say, looking back at Birdie.
She fixes her caftan and nods just as I move through the doors. Instead of the path up to her garden, I bank a left and move toward the bar. My shoulders start aching from how they’ve been bunched, my jaw sore from clenching as I walk across the footbridge to my place, my feet moving forward on autopilot.
I exhale, feeling lightheaded as I type in the code and enter. I brace my hands on my thighs, bending forward.In through your nose and count, dammit!
It’s not panic, but I need to calm down. I feel my pulse racing as I find the edge of my bed and stare out my window. My skinfeels tight and my muscles tense as I play the conversation over in my mind, trying to make sense of it. Trying to berate myself for not knowing any of it before tonight. They gave me some answers, but I don’t know if I’m better or worse for having them. If it was only Stan, then maybe I could justify it—the knowledge that he was a shit human and hurt people in various ways. But knowing that this wasn’t the first, and there’s no mention of it being the last, I’m reeling.
I think about the people who have disappeared, left town, or have gone missing, and I can’t help but wonder if it was Birdie or Lu behind it. I’m equal parts horrified and mystified.
They’ve outsmarted everyone.
And as much as I want to feel good about knowing this truth, like I can wrap my head around their moral code and scream at the top of my lungs that they’re unhinged but I love them, what I really want right now is a distraction.
Chapter Fifteen
Wyn
I jabthe fork into the center of the cake. Blackberry jam mingles with the chopped pecans and caramel drizzle, and I can’t help but hum at how good it is. On the third monster bite, my body slouches, even the muscles along my spine that I hadn’t realized were tense and tight, ease.
Perched on my counter with an entire cake balancing in my lap, I take another bite and release another breath.
I laugh out loud, looking down, resting my head back against the cabinets as I finish chewing.Now what? How the hell am I supposed to manage any of this?
The sound of my phone vibrating is muffled. I look around me to find it, not even realizing I never took it out of my bag. Ihop down from the counter and find it at the bottom of my bag. There’s a wall of messages waiting for me.Julian.
UNKNOWN
Do you need rescuing from your required margarita meeting? . . .
Tell me you’re alright, Crowne.
Had an interesting chat with your brother-in-law tonight. He’s chatty.
And according to Theo, your sister put AirTags in all of your shoes when you came back.
“Dammit!” I yell, yanking off my boot and throwing it across the room. Tugging off the other, I turn it over in my hand. When I reach inside and pull up the sole insert, I spy the round AirTag. Eyes burning with emotion, I bark out a laugh. I don’t know whether to scream at Stevie or hug her for doing it. I wipe away the tears that escape down my cheeks and tip my head back, eyes closed as I breathe for a solid ten-count. There isn’t a formula or syllabus outlining what to do in this exact scenario. With a harsh exhale, I respond to his messages.
WYN
I don’t need rescuing.
I’m alright.
Theo loves a good story.
And I’m going to violently hug my sister.
