Page 61 of What Happens at Nightfall

Adam felt like he was being torn in two, like the vines on Jess’s shirt had turned into living things and were tugging him toward her, making him want to believe her, trust her—and then there was the hurricane in his head, all thunder and lightning, telling him she wasn’t to be believed, wasn’t to be trusted, she was evil, tainted, tricking him, kissing him to confuse him.

But he’d kissed her. He was pretty sure he’d kissed her. He was pretty sure he’d kissed her because he’d wanted to kiss her.

Silence! shrieked the thing in his head. You don’t know what’s good for you! You don’t know what she’s done to you!

“What do you want from me? Why are you doing this to me? You show up wearing tight black sweaters, spilling coffee in strategic places . . .”

Kameka wrinkled her nose. “Spilling coffee in strategic places?”

“It wasn’t strategic,” said Jess tightly. “It was a spill.”

Flowers. Temptingly placed flowers. Coffee-scented flowers, luring him in with the forbidden combo of caffeine and illicit pleasures. “I don’t know what you want from me or my family—I don’t know who you are. You just show up on my doorstep one night, under an assumed name . . .”

“It’s not an assumed name. It’s a nickname.” Jess’s face was white with rage. “I would have told you my full name if you’d asked. You didn’t ask. You just assumed. Like you’re assuming—whatever you’re assuming now.”

Trouble, trouble. “Who are you?” Adam burst out.

“Jacinta Waters. That’s J-A-C-I-N-T-A.”

Jacinta. Thunder rumbled in Adam’s brain and lighting flashed in front of his eyes, even as the autumn sun shone warmly on the worn flagstones of the path.

“You want to google me? Fine. Go on. Type it in. Do you want to know what you’ll find? I’ll tell you. Even better, I’ll do it for you.” Jess yanked out her phone, swiping open the home screen and jabbing hard at the Safari icon. She waved the phone in front of Adam’s face. “Here. Take a good look. It’s all here. Fraud. Embezzlement. Larceny.”

“Sweetie—” Kameka put her hand on her friend’s arm. Jess shook her off, never breaking her gaze from Adam’s.

“You know what else you’ll find? You’ll find that the CEO and COO of the company that hired me were money laundering and I blew the damn whistle. They offered me a payoff—big money. Enough to live on a beach for the rest of my life. But I had to do the right thing. Like I had to do the right thing taking your son home that night!”

Adam felt like something was clutching his throat; he was struggling to breathe. “I didn’t know . . .”

“Why should you? You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me. You never bothered to ask. You were too busy focusing on your own problems.” She was right. He hadn’t ever bothered to ask. He’d thought of her only in relation to himself. “I never meant to intrude on your life. I didn’t even know you existed until your son brought me here!”

Jess stomped down the two steps to the flagstone path, and then stopped. She turned, glaring at him, her face screwed up against the sun.

“I am sick of people assuming the worst of me. I am sick of being blamed for other people’s crap. I liked you.” Her voice cracked, and Adam felt a sharp pain, like a knife in his gut. “But I’m not going to stick around to be made a scapegoat again.”

“Hold on, wait.” Kameka dashed down the stairs after her, her giant bag bouncing against her hip.

Jess rubbed her hand against her eyes. “Don’t let me stop you from using his archives. You guys do your Yale thing. Just forget I was ever here.”

A forget-me-not, that’s what she had reminded him of. Forgetting her wasn’t an option. Adam knew, without knowing how, that he couldn’t forget her, not just like that. And not just because she kept appearing in his dreams with no clothes. “Jess—”

“Don’t bother.” She backed away, holding up a hand to ward him off. “I’m sorry I ever stopped under that tree. I’m sorry I took your son home that night. I’m sorry I kissed you!”

There was a weird scraping noise, somewhere above Adam’s head. Kameka’s eyes widened. She was staring at the roof, her face a mask of horror.

“Oh my God, Jess—”

A marble urn tilted on the edge of the widow’s walk, improbably balanced, before plummeting straight down at Jess.

Chapter Eighteen

One minute Jess was delivering an angry retort, the next minute she was face down in a shrub with an arborist on top of her.

“Ouch,” she said, which felt entirely inadequate. Her face and hands felt like she’d just been put through a cheese grater.

“Oh my God, Jess,” said Kimmy, her voice sounding very far away.

The weight that was Adam lifted, and Jess struggled to remove herself from the shrubbery, an action that was both undignified and added scratches to her scratches.