Page 120

Chalis was standing fifty feet back on the grass, waving his arms frantically at an approaching fire engine with sirens blaring in the distance.

Willow stared at the blazing car, slowly blinked, and then turned her head toward me with a wide, wicked grin.

“See that’s what happens when you spend your whole life playing with fire,” Willow said smoothly. “His ass finally got burned.”

I burst out laughing so hard I had to brace my hand against the windowsill.

“Lord forgive me, but that man has been a walking hazard since high school!” Willow giggled, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Wait... is that the brand-new car he was bragging about on Facebook last week?”

“Apparently.”

Willow pressed her lips together, nodding with deep, malicious satisfaction.

“Oh, I know he is siiiiiiiiick right now! Yup. He gotta be. The nigga is crying real tears in front of the Hallowridge Fire Department.”

“Girl, go back upstairs and finish your work,” I said, shoving her playfully toward the hallway.

“I’m trying, but the local circus is parked in our front yard!” she laughed, retreating toward the stairs. “Tell him next time he wants to pop up unannounced, bring a fire extinguisher and some humility!”

I shook my head as her laughter faded up the staircase.

Outside, the fire crew made quick work of the engine blaze, spraying the front grille down with foam until only charred metal and steam remained.

Within an hour, a flatbed tow truck had loaded Chalis’s ruined pride onto the back, and the entire driveway was clear once again. The only evidence left behind was a faint smell of scorched rubber that the afternoon breeze quickly swept away.

By the time the last emergency vehicle pulled through the iron gates, the emotional exhaustion of the morning hit me like a physical weight. My job applications were still unfinished, my ex had shown up to cause a scene, I had slapped a grown man on my front porch, and my nerves were fried.

I walked down the quiet hall to Granny’s room and gently pushed the door open.

She was reclined in her armchair, a soft knitted blanket draped over her lap, resting peacefully while an old episode of The Golden Girls played at low volume on the television. Her breathing sounded rhythmic and deep, completely untroubled by the chaos that had just taken place outside.

I smiled softly, stepped in to adjust the blanket over her shoulders, and quietly pulled the door shut behind me.

Heading upstairs, I made my way into the master bedroom. The suite was cool, quiet, and filled with the soft midday sunlight filtering through the tall arched windows. I kicked off my house shoes, checked my phone to confirm I had an hour before school let out, and set an alarm for 2:15 PM.

I climbed onto the bed, pulling the down comforter up to my chin.

For a few minutes, I lay there staring at the ceiling, replaying the bizarre sequence of events on the porch.

Chalis suddenly struggling to breathe.

The way his hands had flown to his throat seconds after he insulted Caspian.

Then his car damn near going up in smoke out of nowhere.

There had to be a normal explanation for all of it.

Maybe Chalis had allergies, or something had gone down the wrong pipe at the worst possible moment.

Maybe he was coming down with something and didn’t know it yet.

And cars malfunction every day. It could’ve been faulty wiring, an electrical issue, or something overheated under the hood.

Any one of those explanations made more sense than the alternative my mind kept trying to drag me toward.

Because what was I supposed to believe?

That Caspian, wherever the hell he was, had somehow reached all the way back into Hallowridge, choked Chalis, then decided his Bentley needed to suffer too?