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25
Archer
Lena hasn’t said a word since we overheard Scott and Colton's conversation about her mother. That changes the second we walk inside my house when she explodes.
“What the fuck was that?” Lena kicks off her shoes at the door and starts pacing around my living room. Her hands are clasped together, and she keeps knocking them against her lip.
I step into her path and stop her with my hands on her shoulders. “Lena. This is fucked up, but we will figure something out. Okay?”
She’s staring at me, but her mind is a million miles away. I doubt she even sees me right now.
“What did he do to her?”
I wrap my hands around hers, pulling them away from her mouth before she gives herself a fat lip.
“I don’t know, Luna.”
Some awareness seeps back into her gaze. It’s filled with so much sadness it guts me. I pull her in close, needing to hold her and sensing that she needs it too. Her arms are trapped against my chest and her fingers grip my sweater like it’s a damn lifeline.
“But I have an idea about who we can talk to.”
* * *
Octavia’s house is right smack in the middle of town. She’d said more than once that she’ll never move because she should be the center of everything. I love this woman. Like my house, hers is another of the colonial style row houses that survived the fire.
Last night it occurred to me that as long as we’ve known Octavia, we’ve never asked her about our parents or what she knows about the lore of the island. I suspect it’s because there’s this unspoken agreement amongst our friends that we don’t talk about the Axis. Whether it’s because our parents made us afraid to learn more about it, or because we all think of it as a bad memory. The kind you bury down deep and never talk about.
If there’s anyone who knows more about the dirty little secrets of Wild Haven, I’d be surprised. And while she loves to gossip, I know she’ll keep Lena’s business to herself.
It’s late morning, but I’m tired as hell. Lena was too wound up to sleep last night. I put on a movie, and she’d curled up on the couch next to me, sleeping fitfully, only to wake up with a jolt, again and again.
Octavia opens her door before we even make it to her steps. “Come in. I’ve got coffee on, or I can make some tea if you feel like taking a nap.”
She doesn't bother waiting to see if we follow her in. I usher Lena in ahead of me and close the door behind me. I called Octavia this morning as soon as it was late enough that I knew she’d be awake to see if she had time to meet with us. She scoffed and asked what the hell I thought she did all day. We were instructed to come over whenever the hell we wanted.
Her place is warm and welcoming, with enough cheek and attitude to remind you just whose home you’re visiting. There are little touches, like a throw pillow that says fuck off, that are the embodiment of Octavia. Black and white photographs hang on the wall that one of Octavia’s husbands took. There’s one of her running down the beach, flipping off the camera when she was younger that makes me smile. Octavia’s a little woman with a big personality. I doubt she measures in more than five feet tall, but don’t ever remind her of that.
Lena and I obey when she waves us into her sitting room, and over to a collection of chairs around a low table. As promised, there’s a tray of coffee waiting to be poured. I make quick work of preparing three cups, knowing exactly how Lena likes hers. I raise a brow at Octavia in question.
“Just black.” She waves me away when I try to hand her the coffee, motioning for me to leave it on the table. Leaning back in her lounge chair, she steeples her fingers over her stomach and smiles at the two of us.
“What do I owe the honor of this little visit today? Are we going to plot how to get Serafina and the baby horse off our committee?”
Lena makes a choking sound next to me, having unfortunately been mid-sip during that little comment.
“Um, maybe after we talk about the real reason we came here, we can do that,” Lena sputters out with a laugh once she catches her breath.
“And what is the real reason?” Octavia’s smile tells me she knows more than she’s letting on, although I have no idea how. Lena turns her head to look at me, and I get lost in the depths of her gaze for a moment longer than is polite.
“Oh, good, good. It’s about damn time,” Octavia says, leaning forward to grab her coffee. Lena and I both turn to look at her, the question on the tip of my tongue, ready to ask what she means.
“Please, the two of you have been dancing around each other for years. I’m glad you’ve finally admitted it.”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?” I grin and shake my head. Octavia winks at me, taking a sip of her coffee. Her eyes peer over the top of her cup as she watches us, waiting for the real reason we’re here today.
“Just spit it out, boy. I can see the wheels churning in your brain. You’re going to give yourself a migraine. What is it you want to know?”
Lena’s the one who answers, setting her coffee down untouched. She leans forward to look at Octavia, her emotions locked down. “Nothing happens on this island without you noticing.”
