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She huffs, getting up from the bed, adjusting her impossibly short dress.
Riley would be a hell of a lot more good-looking if she never opened her fucking mouth.
We find everyone but Marley standing in the kitchen.
“You guys ready? Marley is going to meet us there,” Mitch says.
I glance down the hall towards her room, curious as to what’s going on.
Riley walks out to the truck, getting in without so much as a word to anyone else, when Delaney grabs my elbow.
“She’s going through something, but she’ll be there soon,” she whispers, before climbing into the front seat of the truck.
I glance back at the house. It’s taking everything I have not to march in there and find out what’s going on, but I know I can’t do that. Not with so many eyes on me right now.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Riley hisses when I get in the truck.
“Nothing. Are you going to act like this all night? Because it’s fucking exhausting,” I say, leaning my head against the seat.
She ignores me, her face back in her phone. I’m planning to get completely shit faced tonight. That’s the only way I’m going to be able to put up with her.
The fire is already roaring when we pull up. I immediately head straight for the alcohol, grabbing two shots, before I grab a bottle of Jack.
“Jesus, Clark. Slow down,” Riley snaps.
I grab her by the waist, picking her up and sitting her on my lap. She yelps at the contact, looking at me confused.
I’m confused too, but fuck if I’m not tightly wound up. I can’t touch who I really want to, so what the fuck else am I supposed to do?
I’ve got my arm around her waist, my thumb on my other hand wrapped tightly around the bottle. She’s nuzzled into my neck, nibbling, and the only thing I want to do is peel her off me and go the fuck back to the house to see what’s going on with Marley.
Speak of the devil and she appears.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter, taking a giant drink from the bottle.
She’s trying to kill me.
ChapterTen
MARLEY
An hour earlier
The house is quiet. It’s almost uncomfortably quiet. I’ve been lying in my bed since I got back from the beach. Groaning, I get up from the bed, wandering around the room.
Mallory and I used to sleep in here together when we were little. This is where we hid when our parents threw parties or when they were fighting. Both seemed to happen on the same night.
I walk over to the closet, flipping the light on, staring into the top of the closet. We used to have a box that we kept keepsakes from the beach in. Grabbing the step ladder from the inside of the closet, I climb up, digging around in the top of the closet.
A black box falls out on the floor, papers falling out everywhere.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, stepping down from the ladder.
I pick up a piece of paper and it seems to be journal entries. How did my sister keep so many things from me without me even realizing? Was I really that clueless?
Dear Diary,
I forgot my journal at home this week. I’ve been getting used to spilling my feelings, so I had to find all the loose paper in the house that I could. I haven’t seen Beau since the day we took that pregnancy test. I don’t know what my parents did to him, or what they told him, but I’m starting to get worried. It goes straight to his voicemail when I call him. My heart is broken.
