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OCTAVIA
Anight with Indi was exactly what I needed. I ignored the flowers, and by the time the pizza arrived, they were gone. Which is a-okay with me. I do not want to know what is going on. I just want a quiet life, dammit. I knew coming back to Echoes Cove was going to be insane, but everything that’s happened thus far is so beyond that.
By the time she left, after me practically forcing her out of the door, I’d learned even more about the Kings, and what sort of stuff they do. I’m more than a little shook by it all, but more really by the fact that she kept it from me; this huge part of her life.
On the one hand, I understand it, but on the other… I don’t know. I guess I thought we were closer than that. Hell, I told her everything that has happened to me since I arrived here. Everything. I’m trying real hard not to be butt hurt about it.
Trying and not succeeding. I’m aware I’m likely hyper focusing on that to distract from the clusterfuck that has been my life this weekend, but still… it doesn’t stop my illogical emotions running riot.
In my attempts to distract myself from the insanity playing on a loop in my mind, I’m trying to just live life as normally as freaking possible. I messaged Smithy when I woke up to check in with him, casually leaving out the events of my weekend, because I don’t want him to worry. Now I’m attempting to cook breakfast.
Cooking has never really been my strong suit but I’ve got to earn points for trying.
Right?
I put the English muffins in the oven and decide to head outside to the mailbox. I haven’t been out there for a few days, so lord only knows what’s going to be in there. The fresh air of the morning is so cold that goosebumps rise on my arms as I step out of the house. I scurry down the drive and grab the various envelopes and magazines from the mailbox before practically running back into the house. I should’ve put on a hoodie today apparently.
I’m aware that it’s November, but still, this is California. It shouldn’t be this damn cold.
Once I’m back inside, I drop the mail on the counter in the kitchen so I can go through it while I eat. I grab my hoodie and slide it over my head before I grab the eggs and bacon from the fridge. This cooking thing can’t be that hard, right?
Wrong.
After butchering my attempt at simple meal preparation, I sit down at the counter to try and eat some of what I cooked. If I liked my eggs rubbery and my bacon charred, I’d have this cooking thing nailed. The only thing I managed to get right were the English muffins, and that’s because they only had to go in the oven for ten minutes and I set a timer.
I give up on trying to eat the charred remains and pop a bagel in the toaster. That’s got to be simpler… I grab the cream cheese from the fridge, smearing it over the bottom part of the bagel once it’s done, then go about opening the mail. Bills and junk mail freaking galore. If it’s not that, it’s people wanting me to buy stuff.
I get toward the bottom of the pile and spot a manilla envelope. Just the sight of it makes my pulse race. I gingerly pick it up, my hands shaking as my mind flicks back to the last envelope like this I got. This is not how my morning was intended to go. I wanted a slice of normal, dammit.
I open the envelope and tip it up on the counter. A ton of photos cascade over the surface and my stomach turns.
They’re from Friday night.
Pictures of me alone.
Ones with Raleigh. A red cross through his face.
Ones of Lincoln beating the crap out of Raleigh.
Of him putting me in his car.
Of Finley and Maverick putting Raleigh in the trunk of a car.
Others of just them with their faces scratched out, some of me just puttering around the house and in the yard. It’s so fucking gross. Underneath them all, I find a note.
They can’t keep you safe. Not like I can.
You’ll see.
What the fuck is my life?
I grab my phone and dial the number Finley called me from yesterday. I’m aware I could just go next door to Lincoln or East, but I feel so exposed that I don’t want to go back outside. I put the phone to my ear and Finley picks up on the first ring.
“V, what’s wrong?”
I suck in a breath that that’s his first assumption, hammering home that my life really has gone to hell in a hand basket since I came back here, but I might actually need to rely on them for help with this and not just sweep it under the rug, or put it on a shelf with the rest of the shit I don’t want to deal with. It’s not like I have the security team with me twenty-four seven anymore, and this isn’t just bullies or paparazzi. I’m going to have to be the girl my dad raised me to be. The headstrong, smart and capable girl I was before I came back to The Cove. Something about coming back here, whether my grief or not, had me putting my head in the sand, but the time for that is done.
The problem with that is I don’t have the resources I used to, which means I need to rely on someone, and they’re all I have right now whether I like it or not. And if I need their help, he needs to see these pictures. They all do. “More pictures turned up in my mailbox.” I know I don’t need to say any more than that for him to understand what I mean. Lincoln took the last set of photos that arrived, but there’s no way he didn’t share the news. My voice shakes more than I’d like as I speak, but considering this weekend has been a living fucking nightmare, I’m cutting myself some slack for being a little weak.
