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Like mine, Landon’s bedroom has windows all over the place, but at least tonight, he has the shades down so the room is dark.
Since I know it’s tidy and I don’t risk tripping over anything, I slip inside, close the door behind me, and carefully make my way to his bed.
My eyes adjust to the dark by the time I place my hand on the mattress. For a few seconds, I think he might be asleep because he isn’t saying anything. He’s in bed, but his back is to me, so I can’t tell.
Trying my best to be gentle in case he is awake, I climb up on my knees on the bed. I crawl forward, but the moment I do, he turns over.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s breaking the rules now,” he teases.
“You havenoroom to talk about rule breakers.”
His hands find my hips and he lifts me, positioning me so I’m straddling his hips. “I wasn’t complaining.”
I let him situate me so I’m sitting on him because I like it, but I’m appreciative of the dark so I can’t get distracted by the view. “You have some explaining to do, mister.”
“Ihave some explaining to do?” he demands, his tone sharp with disbelief.
I grab his hand, then I place the business card in his open palm.
His fingers close around it to feel what it is, but he can’t see what it is. He shifts beneath me, reaching for something on his nightstand. A second later, his phone screen lights up so he can use the dim light to see.
I cross my arms, watching his face for recognition, but he doesn’t give anything away. “Turn it over.”
His gaze slides to mine, and I register the flicker of annoyance just before the screen goes dark again.
He doesn’t need the light anymore, so he puts the phone back.
“Explain,” I demand.
Rather than give the contrite vibe I’m looking for, he slides his hands around to grab my ass. “Explain how you thought you were sending some other asshole your sexy tooth brushing pics so clearly you need this little ass beat?”
“No,” I say, leveling him an unamused look he probably can’t even see in the dark. “Explain how you did it. Javi handed me that card himself. Why would he write your number on the back?”
“I guess he didn’t want to stand in the way of true love.”
“Landon.”
“Maybe he’s not that bright and he just forgot his own phone number. Happy coincidence that he jotted down mine.”
“I’m serious. Did you blackmail him? Threaten him with something? How did you get him to do your bidding?”
He’s quiet for a second, then he says, “I didn’t. He didn’t write my number on the back of the card he gave you.” Handing it back to me, he says, “This is a different card.”
“But that’s his handwriting.”
“It’s not. It’s just a really good forgery.”
I’m quiet for a moment, absorbing his words, and he’s quiet, too.
It’s his quiet that activates prior knowledge I haven’t thought about in ages.
After Hannah’s dad died, Anae used to torment her with forged notes and letters from him. She’d leave them places for Hannah to find when she was alone. I remember when Hannah finally told me about it, how she held the notes with trembling hands, her face white and her eyes brimming with tears. We were just kids back then, and she started to believe that somehow her dad was still alive, and he needed her help… until Anae, apparently bored by the mystery and wanting credit for her cruelty, jotted one down in front of us and then cackled like the witch she is.
You stupid idiots. Ghosts aren’t real.
Anae laughed at Hannah believing the letters were really from her dad, but she fooled me, too. The handwriting lookedexactlylike his.
“Anae… she can copy handwriting.” That dissolves the good humor I had about this fucked up situation. “You usedAnae Richardsto manipulate me?”
