Page 40 of The Wedding Party

“She said she never saw the box after the delivery came to the house. She said he got rid of the box, the ribbon, and the card.”

“But?”

“I saw a red ribbon in her work locker.”

In other words, Carrie found the box. After which, she went from talking to Lana to keeping her mouth shut. I’m officially intrigued. What was in that box?

Chapter Thirty-Four

CARRIE

I blink awake again, staring at the ceiling, a throb in my head as I try to remember where I am. And thank God, my memory returns quickly. I’m in the hospital. Or maybe not. Maybe I don’t want to remember and with good reason. I’m alone. Forever. Because Oliver is dead. I squeeze my eyes shut and reject the very idea.

No.

No.

No.

“Carrie.”

My lashes lift again, my gaze following the voice, to bring the pretty brunette leaning over me into view. “Andi,” I say. “Or is it Agent Castle now?”

“What do you want to call me?”

“Andi. That sounds more like my friend. And since no one else is here, I kind of need a friend right now.”

“Then call me Andi,” she says. “Glad to see you were able to sleep a bit.”

“It’s the only time I don’t have to face the truth.”

“And what truth is that?” she asks.

“He’s gone. Oliver is gone,” I say, my voice cracking, a pinch in my chest that grows stronger by the moment.

“I know this is difficult, and the doctor tells me you’re suffering from a concussion on top of everything else.”

“That’s what I’m told,” I reply, thankful Dr. Mendez is compassionate and gentle.

Andi pulls a chair up next to me. “Do you know how that happened?”

My mind flashes to Natalie holding my head and slamming it against the floor, and I cut my gaze.

“Carrie?” Andi presses.

I blink her back into view. “She attacked me. Natalie attacked me. I remember.”

“What else do you remember?”

“You finding me in the attic.” I lower my gaze and add, “The blood.” I press my hands to my face and swallow the bile in my throat, panting out a breath.

“Tell me about the blood,” she urges.

My hands find the blanket and my fingers ball around the top sheet, anger flaring inside me. “What do you want to hear?” I demand. “You saw it.”

“I saw it all over you.”

Defensiveness replaces anger. “Yes, well, I have stitches for a reason.”