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He’s brought Daisy back to collect her things. Last night, I checked her room and was disappointed to find that she’d only taken half her things, which meant she wasn’t running. Now she’s back, with Tom in tow, to collect the rest.
Daisy.
Daisy who is not Daisy at all. Daisy who is the real Celeste Turner.
I’m tempted to reverse and roar out of here. Hell, I was tempted to not come back to Fort Exile at all. But she’s known all along that I’m an imposter, and she hasn’t called me on it. I sure as hell don’t want to tumble into a trap, but nor do I want to scamper off like a scared rabbit, leaving all my belongings behind. She doesn’t know anything has changed. I just need to play along for a little bit more and then collect my things and hit the road. Leave Daisy with her house and her inheritance.
And a murder charge?
Guilt stabs through me. This isn’t what I intended, damn it. I’ve done enough to her already, and I am keenly aware of that.
Now what?
This should make me even more determined not to frame her, but while I have an alternate plan, I no longer dare stick around long enough to act on it. I can only get the hell out of Dodge before Daisy summons me to a showdown at noon.
Leave... and let her face a murder charge.
I’m sorry, CeCe. This isn’t what I intended, and I hope to God you can get out of it okay. I’ll help if I can, from a distance. I won’t do anything more to hurt you, but I can’t undo what I’ve done, either, on any count.
I want you to be okay, and my flight will help. Let them come after me instead. I won’t set them on my own trail—I’m not that selfless—but you can do that. Tell them I stole your identity and let them decide I may also have killed my partner in crime. Then tell Tom who you really are. Fall into each other’s arms and live happily ever after.
That’s what I want for you. Good things. Only good things.
You deserve it, just like Jasmine did.
I head inside.
“Hello?” I call, a note of concern in my voice, like someone who has returned to find uninvited guests in her home.
No one answers. As I listen, I catch the sound of the shower running.
She’s taking a shower? Really?
Yes, because it’s her shower. Her house. And as long as she’s busy, I have time to gather my things and get out.
I’m in the upstairs hall when the shower stops. Two more steps, and the bathroom door opens.
“Hey,” a voice says. “I thought I heard someone here.”
That is not Daisy’s voice. I turn to see Tom. Dripping wet, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“I hoped to be done before you were back. Whoops.” He shoots me a bashful smile, but it’s a total put-on, as his eyes dance with undisguised amusement.
I stand there, arms crossed. “What are you doing in my shower?”
“Mine’s busted,” he says. “Daisy asked me to collect her things, so I figured I’d sneak a shower.”
“She’s not coming to get her own stuff?”
“I get the feeling you spooked her. You are a very scary lady when you want to be.”
“Not scary enough to keep you out of my shower.”
“Do you want me out of your shower?” He leans one hip against the counter. “Or are you just disappointed that I wasn’t still in there?”
“Someone’s feeling flirty today. I’m guessing Daisy slept on the sofa.”
“Never. That would be inhospitable. Daisy got the full measure of my hospitality.”
