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Perhaps I shouldn’t pry. Perhaps it’s wrong to ask her about the guys’ secrets. But I feel like I need to know.
“A girl?” I say it casually, hoping she can’t read through my bullshit.
She nods as she sets the dress down on the bed on top of the pile of other clothes she brought. “I think her name was Willow. She used to come to our house for … well, honestly, I’m not even sure. But I think maybe her dad worked for ours or knew them. But, anyway, he brought his daughter with him, and she would hang out with my brother, Jax, and Zay. They would follow her around like little puppies. It was cute. It was probably the only time when they were almost happy.” She sighs, like she’s getting sad thinking about it.
I swallow the lump welling in my throat. “What happened? To the girl, I mean? Did she just stop coming around?”
She shakes her head from side to side. “No, she fell into a river and drowned. At least, that’s what I was told. But I don’t know … I honestly don’t buy into it.”
My interest is piqued. “Why not?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I’ve never told the guys this because they shut down at even the mention of her name, but I did tell my nanny at the time, and she told me never to speak of it again.”
I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t.
I try not to get too intense, but I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. “What was it?”
She exhales loudly as she stares at the pile of clothes. “You have to pinkie swear not to tell anyone if I tell you.” She holds up her hitched pinkie, and I reach for it, but she moves it back. “And just so you know, I take pinkie swears very seriously. If you break it, we can’t be friends anymore.”
“I take them seriously, too,” I assure her, reaching out and hitching my pinkie with hers.
We shake pinkies on it, and nervousness creeps into her expression. I get this feeling that maybe her nanny said more than not to just speak of it, like she scared her into keeping quiet.
She nervously glances around, as if checking to make sure no one else is here. “I thought I saw her—Willow—after she was supposed to be dead.”
My breath catches in my throat as my speculation—that I’m Willow—grows. “Where did you see her?”
“In a car. It was parked in our driveway, and she was looking out one of the windows, but they were tinted, so maybe I did see someone else like my nanny said. Or I saw a ghost.” She looks down at the pile of clothes with a haunted look on her face. Clearly, she’s been bothered by this for a while. “Does that make me sound crazy?”
I slowly shake my head. “Not at all.”
She looks up at me. “Well, I think you’re the only person—besides my brother and his friends—who doesn’t think I am.”
“But I thought no one else knew about the Willow thing?”
“They don’t. That’s not why everyone thinks I’m crazy.” She looks down at the clothes again. “There was an incident a couple of years ago at a party.”
I think about the first day I met her and how a guy was tormenting her in the hallway. “Can I ask what happened?”
She hesitates then shakes out her shoulders and smiles at me. “You know what? Let’s drop this heavy talk and focus on clothes, because this sort of stuff is supposed to be fun, right?”
I could say no and press her for more details, try to get her secrets out of her. But, since I have a ton of my own, I don’t want anyone to know about …
“Yeah, let’s have some fun.”
The words are such a lie.
EIGHT
HUNTER
I’m currently working on getting the cameras set up by myself in the living room while Low and Raven are upstairs. Zay is off somewhere, probably beating the crap out of something or someone, and Jax is getting the phone but is probably veering toward a panic attack.
He didn’t want to leave Raven.
He’s getting too attached.
I mean, I’m glad he’s finally been able to connect with someone, even if I want to connect with that someone, too, but he can get too intense sometimes. He was that way with Willow, though it never bothered her. It was like she knew how to handle him, as if she was made for him.
