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What happened?
His response took forever, and when it came, it didn’t say much:
Family stuff. Too much for txt. 2morrow.
Figured. She sighed. But Becca kept hearing Chris’s question, right before the lightning started to strike.
Speaking of our local narc, just what do you know about him?
Did Chris think Hunter was somehow involved with what had happened?
She stared at his words on her phone, absently fingering the rocks on her wrist. New age nonsense? Or something as familiar to him as Chris’s water or Nick’s air?
She stared out at the night. Still no lightning. Just rain, whipped by wind to strike the car.
Quinn’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You all right, Bex?”
Was there an answer to that? Becca nodded, but didn’t look at her. “Fine.”
“You never told me what Drew said.”
Becca gave a halfhearted laugh. “Too much. Not enough. I don’t know.”
Quinn didn’t say anything, and Becca was suddenly aware of Rafe’s eyes on her in the rearview mirror.
“What happened?” said Quinn, and her voice was low.
“He didn’t want to apologize. He just wanted to finish what he started at that soccer party.” Now she looked up, meeting Quinn’s eyes. Her voice sounded flat, but it was better than the alternative. “It was a trick. He and his friends dragged me onto the soccer field.”
Quinn shifted closer, taking her hand. “Oh, Bex ...”
Becca shook her head, shocked to feel another tear roll down her cheek. She swiped it away. “It’s okay. He didn’t—Chris stopped them.”
Quinn’s eyes widened. “You mean—how they looked on the quad ... Chris did that?”
Becca squared her shoulders. She remembered the feel of her elbow smashing Seth in the face, the taste of Drew’s blood on her tongue. “And me.”
Rafe whistled from the front seat. “You go, girl.”
Quinn didn’t spare him a glance. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” Becca gave her friend a weak smile. “You kids have fun.”
Her house felt emptier than usual. Quinn had almost demanded to stay—and Becca had almost let her. She just couldn’t bear the thought of reliving it all for Quinn, who would surely want details.
Becca sat at the kitchen table and stared at Chris’s cell phone, checking it every fifteen seconds.
Nothing.
She scrolled through his contacts again, letting her thumb stop on Michael.
Would Chris want her to call him? He and the twins had been pretty emphatic that they didn’t want him involved. And Gabriel had said they’d take care of it—if they wanted Michael, they would have called him.
Right?
She opened the front door. The chill in the air seeped right through her skin and into her bones. The rain had stopped entirely, and a few stars peeked between broken clouds.
The storm was over.
