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You have no idea how true that statement is.
I take a sip of my orange juice to stop myself from reliving the rotten memories from last night.
“Let her be, Levi.” Mum passes me a boiled egg—well-cooked, the way I like—with a smile. “Our Glyn is a big girl now and can take care of herself.”
“Not if she’s attacked by some crazy scum in the middle of the night.”
I choke on the bit of juice that’s stuck in my mouth. Bran passes me a napkin and gives me a weird look.
Shit.
Please don’t tell me it’s written all over my face.
“Don’t jinx it,” Mum tells him with a frown, then points at the egg. “Eat, honey.”
I stuff my mouth with the white of the egg and Mum shakes her head when I basically throw most of the yolk away.
“Do you need anything?” Dad asks, seeming suspicious of me. Jeez. I really hate having him in this mode. He’s like a crooked detective fishing for any sort of information.
“No, no. I’m fine.”
“Good. But if you happen to need something, let me or your brothers know,” he says after swallowing his food.
“Will do.”
“Speaking of your brothers,” Mum fixes me and Bran with her stern parental gaze. “I heard you two avoid Landon on campus?”
“It’s not that we avoid him…” I start.
“It’s that he doesn’t have time for us with all the attention he gets from both professors and students,” Bran finishes, lying through his teeth.
Because we do try to spend as little time with him as possible.
“Still.” Mum makes me a piece of toast, still treating me as if I’m a little girl. “You guys go to the same university and even the same art school, so I’d hoped you’d at least keep your bond.”
“We’ll work on it, Mum,” I say in my pacifying tone, because even though Bran isn’t antagonistic either, he can definitely channel that energy when it comes to Lan.
I start to get up, my stomach feeling heavy and absolutely refusing to accept more food.
After kissing my parents goodbye and telling Bran I’ll see him later, I contemplate driving to Grandpa’s house, but he’s probably at work now.
Also, if a slight interrogation from Dad rustled my feathers, an encounter with Grandpa will probably make me break down.
So I send him a good morning email. Because my granddaddy doesn’t do texts. Doesn’t even honor them with a look.
I’m about to tuck my phone away when it pings with a text.
I think maybe Grandma is texting on Grandpa’s behalf, but it’s an unknown number.
My heart nearly explodes from my chest when I read the words.
Unknown Number:Maybe you should’ve died with Devlin, huh? After all, that was the plan, wasn’t it?
4
GLYNDON
Brighton Island is a large piece of land surrounded by forests and sea and is riddled with infamous castles from the Middle Ages.
