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Maybe for him to jump up with shock so fake, I can see right through it. Or maybe for him to laugh maniacally and launch into a villain monologue while Rory fills in with song and dance to make this into the family movie no one asked for.
But I don’t expect for him to stare at me, eyebrows raised just enough to show that undeniable moment of surprise. He doesn’t look sorry.
Though, I doubt I do either. How could either of us be sorry, when Jack was one of five kids at school who had taken my best friend and his sister away from us?
“Who’s Jack?” Rory asks, voice barely above a stage whisper. “Do we know him?Shouldwe know him?”
Almost as if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, Phoenix lets his hand drift down to rest in Rory’s auburn hair, fingers curling through the strands as if he needs the comfort.
The movement draws my gaze and I watch him grip loosely before Rory reaches up as well, pulling Phoenix’s other hand into his.
“Jack was one of my sister’s….” Phoenix trails off, and I wonder if he was going to say something likefriends.“He knew my sister,” he finishes finally, but I narrow my eyes in surprise at his choice of words.
Is this Phoenix trying to spare my feelings? Or to downplay the situation to his boyfriend? My theories about him being the killer are starting to fade, though not completely, since I have no idea when Jack died, or if it was an accident.
Like Emily’s death supposedly was.
“Are you going to Emily’s funeral?” I blurt out the words like an idiot, and more than anything wish I could grab them and stuff them back into my mouth when Phoenix’s gaze finds mine once more, the shrewdness in them as terrifyingly perceptive as always.
Sometimes, it feels like he knows what I’m thinking.
The wind picks up around us, making me shiver and jam my hands into my pockets. October iscoldhere, and somehow one of my super powers is not knowing how to dress for the damn weather. It feels like the wind is swirling around us, trying to drag me closer to the two boys, and for one wild, stupid moment, I think about the crow from the fairgrounds.
“No,” Phoenix says, breaking me out of my trance of crow caws and black, beating wings. “I don’t have the interest, or the time. And I don’t think they’d want me there. Areyou?”
I open my mouth to tell him no, but there’s no sound to be heard. He tilts his head to the side, watching me, eyes narrowing just enough I can see the intrigue there.
“You don’t feel sorry for her dying. Don’t lie to me,” he challenges, causing Rory to shift closer to me from his spot on the bench.
“I…I don’t feel bad for either of them,” I say, the words soft enough to get dragged into the swirling breeze. “In fact—” But I clamp down on that thought, on those words, just as Phoenix’s eyes blaze and his hands tighten on Rory’s hair, knuckles going white before he relaxes at a sound of concern from his boyfriend.
“In factwhat?”The question has all the audacity of a demand, and the confidence of someone who isn’t usually denied his wants. But that’s how Phoenix has always been, and it only phases me a little.
“No, it doesn’t matter.” He’s not my friend, and he doesn’t intimidate me anymore…in theory. I take a step back to put physical distance between us, my gaze slipping to Rory’s instead of his, and surprise ripples through me at the intensity I find there.
As soon as he sees me looking, however, Rory smiles and holds his hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry, Bailey.” He still says my name like it’s a treat on his tongue. “I won’t growl at you like Phoenix does. He’s growl-y enough for the both of us, don’t you think?”
I give a one-shouldered, noncommittal shrug. “I just wanted you to know,” I mumble, glancing back at Daisy’s older brother. “Felt like you should.” I don’t give him a chance to snap at me, or a chance to decide he’s irritated. I pivot on my heel and turn, heading back to the path and the gated entrance to the park.
“Bailey.” Phoenix’s voice is sharp and impossible to ignore. I turn just a little, just enough to see him lean forward. “Don’t stay out so late,” he warns, his voice soft. “You know the stories about what happens in Hollow Bridge around Halloween just as well as I do.”
This time I don’t give him an answer. He doesn’t need one, and I don’t need to prolong this conversation. I walk away, my shoes crunching on the dry leaves, and try not to think of dead crows and bad omens.
Even though that’sexactlywhat this feels like tonight.
Chapter11
Staring at the kitchen timer has never been the highlight of my day, though there are definitely worse things I could be doing than this. With my shirt covered in cake mix, frosting on the side of my face, and a glob of something in my hair that may or may not be butter or more frosting, I look like the cupcakes have gotten the better of me, instead of the other way around.
I’m good at baking. I just…also have a tendency to wear about five percent of it. My hands aren’t as bad as usual, though red stains mar my fingers, looking like I’ve dipped them in blood. I have no doubt when I make the blood in about an hour, I’ll really look like the murderer of Hollow Bridge, or the next best thing.
The timer ticks down to two minutes just as Mom comes in, glancing my way as she opens the utility drawer under the television. “Cupcakes going okay? How many dozen are you making again?” she asks off-handedly, more from interest than a desire to cook anything herself. While she is the baker of the family, and can make a mean burrito, she has very little interest in my ideas about taking box cake mix and doctoring it into something twenty percent better.
Well, maybe twenty percent is pushing it. But at least I make the frosting myself, so that has to count for something.
“Four dozen.” I sigh, pressing my cheek on the wood of the bar in the middle of the kitchen. “Two dozen for Dad’s work. Two for the fundraiser. But I think I’m out of the sugar I need for the, uh, shattered glass?” I look over the bags I’d brought home from the store, looking for the familiar shape and color of the bag I apparently didn’t get with my pickup order.
If I have to go get it from the convenience store now, I’ll have to actually goinsidelike a real adult. And I’m not sure I’m willing to change out of these clothes just for a ten-minute trip down to the end of the street and back.
