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“Just a little pre-gaming,” she admits, holding up her finger and thumb with barely any space between them. “Liquid courage, you know? Never killed anyone. Plus, I get a little nervous meeting new people for the first time, and I’ve never been to one of your famous parties. Tragic, really.”

Her admission pulls a twinge of guilt. She’s nervous. The confident, beautiful girl is nervous about fitting in with someone new.

“You’re the first one here; everyone else should be here soon. Thought we could spend a little one-on-one and get to know each other before everyone arrives.”

Ellie smiles, showing off her dimples, and for a moment, I see her as Preston must. A sweet little girl—a little sister.

Stop it, I command myself. Remember what he did. Remember what he’s taken from you.

We go down to the basement, her heels clicking against the old wooden steps in an unsteady rhythm. She doesn’t notice how empty the room is, too focused on not falling in those absurd shoes.

Decorative lights already hang from when Caleb and I used to have friends over for movie nights down here or poker. Nothing down here had been used in a long time, not since he’d run everyone off.

A round table with seats surrounding it sits dead center. It’s the same table we had the poker nights on, the same one Blaire helped me study on in my old apartment, where we’d drink until 3:00 am.

“Oh, I just love this vibe,” Ellie tells me as she plops down in one of the chairs, running her hands over the worn wood. “It’s so simple and cozy.”

I look around, wondering what ‘cozy vibe’ she was getting from a bare-walled cement room with a table, three beanbag chairs, and an old TV hung on a swinging hinge. But I smile nonetheless.

“Oh, thank you. We spend a good deal of time down here.”

“We?”

“Oh, yeah, my boyfriend. He should be here soon.”

Her face lights up. “I can’t wait to meet him! What’s he like?”

Dead. He’s dead because your brother killed him.

“He… was nice.” This time, the lie feels as if I’m choking it out. Caleb had become far from it.

“Was?” Her dark eyebrows knit together.

“Is. Sorry, I meant is. I’ll admit it, I also did a little pre-gaming before you got here. So, what would you like to drink?” I’m already moving toward the collection of half-empty bottles I arranged on the opposite side of the table. “Vodka? Whiskey? A wine cooler?”

“Surprise me.”

I barely hear her response before I’m already moving, the grin on her face so trusting I have to turn away before guilt prods at me again. My hands are shaking as I pour a little too much vodka into a solo cup. The bottle taps against the rim, my nerves working against me. I add a splash of cranberry juice to cover a little of the bitterness; she’s going to need it.

As she drinks, I study her with the detachment of a huntress finally finding her prey. She’s so small, especially compared to Preston. She isn’t more than 5’ 2”, with bird-like bones and delicate wrists that look as if you grab them too tightly, they’ll snap.

Taking her down should be easy.

“So, tell me about you,” I say, settling into the chair next to her, feigning interest while my head anticipates the direction the night is heading. “I don’t know anything about you, really. Except, I have heard you’re a brilliant artist.”

Her whole face radiates as she perks up. “Oh, wow, thank you, Wynnie. There’s not much to tell, really. I’m pretty boring compared to most people. I spend a lot of time at school or with my brothers. They’re, like, really protective and won’t let me go more than a few days without seeing them.”

She takes a second sloppy drink that leaves her lipstick on the rim of the cup. The vodka is already hitting her on top of what she already drank before she came. Clearly, it’s more than a little bit she admitted to having before she arrived. And she was lying about how she spends her time, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Who are your brothers?”

“Preston and Robert Grant,” she tells me with such pride. “They’re both older. Preston is thirty, and Robert is twenty-eight. They, like, basically raised me.”

And to my delight, the last piece of the puzzle falls right into my lap.

I gasp with award-worthy execution. “Preston? Stop, I can’t believe it!”

“You know him? Oh my god, what a small world! How do you know my brother?”