Chapter Twenty #2
I kiss him again. It’s like ballroom dancing, right? I can just follow his lead. Or that’s the theory, but once he’s kissing me again, my brain shuts off, which is probably for the best.
My arms slide around his neck, my body pressing to his, and he makes a low noise, like a groan.
His hands slide to my ass, as if he’s going to pull me back on him.
Then he stops and murmurs what sounds like an apology, and there’s part of me that wants to climb onto him anyway, straddle him and feel his hands on my ass, under my skirt…
And there’s part of me that says no, he’s right, slow down, I’m not ready. I’m nowhere near ready.
So I just kiss him. His hands are around my waist, mine around his neck, and I kiss him until I can’t breathe and I still don’t care.
Finally, I give a little gasp that may be my body’s panicked cry for air, and he pulls back, his chuckle vibrating through me. Then he hugs me. Just holds me tight, his body warm, his heart beating against my chest. When he lets go, his hands move to cup my cheeks.
“You won’t regret this,” he says, his voice rough. “I promise that.” He presses his lips to mine, his hands still cupping my cheeks, thumbs stroking my face, kissing me until his watch vibrates with an alarm.
He pulls back and sighs. “And that’s our sign.”
“The ball is done? Our coach about to turn into a pumpkin?”
“Nah, but we’ll turn into pumpkins if we aren’t back by two. I need to call the driver.” He smiles. “It’ll take him a few minutes to get here, though, so if you have any idea how to fill the time…”
I smile back at him. “I do.”
—
We’ve been in the town car for two hours, with just over an hour to go, Westdale being, well, west of Savannah and therefore closer to Atlanta.
Before leaving Atlanta, Theo had the driver stop for takeout at his favorite local burger place.
We’d both removed our makeup, already smeared from kissing.
After we both ate and sent some texts, Theo started drifting off.
Now he’s asleep, with me up against him, the remnants of our meal lie scattered around us.
I keep thinking through everything Theo told me about Jenna Moreno.
Did Westdale forge the pass to avoid the hell that would rain down if a student snuck out and OD’d at a party? Has everyone jumped to the conclusion that it was an OD because Jenna was a party girl? What if someone at the party injected her?
I had a friend who was needle-phobic and practically had to be sedated. I can’t imagine that friend ever injecting herself with drugs. But was Jenna that needle-phobic?
Did she fudge the truth for her little brother? Did she lie about staying in with homework? Did she finish early and sneak out?
What if she never went out? What if someone at Westdale killed her? And if the police claim she OD’d at an off-campus party, that’s a cover-up.
The whole thing smacks of cover-up. Jenna was a known party girl. What’s the obvious explanation for her sudden death? An overdose…off-site, of course, where Westdale couldn’t be responsible, especially if they gave her a pass to see a movie with friends.
I want to look up her death online, but first I need to hear Maddox’s version. Theo said he’ll be at the clubhouse, and we’ll sneak back there after the night guard confirms we’ve returned. Because that’s the routine.
The night guard needs to confirm the return of all students who leave. And the school will have records of when we left because, duh, gated entry.
So how would Jenna—?
That’s a question for Maddox, and I’m sure he’ll fill me in.
I have my phone in hand, browser open, as if I’d subconsciously been preparing to research Jenna’s death.
There is something else I can look up. Another Westdale student.
Annette Donleavy.
The search engine tries to direct me to Annette “Dunleavy.” Donleavy is apparently rarer. In fact, it’s so rare that an initial search brings back nothing but results that mention two different people: an Annette plus a Donleavy.
I switch to a slower but more accurate search engine.
As I’m waiting for the results, I remind myself that Annette will be thirty-six or thirty-seven, and if she’s married, she may have taken on her spouse’s name. Results under her maiden name could be sporadic and—
Obituary for Annette Marie Donleavy
My heart sinks. I click on the link and a photo fills the page, one of a girl with dark hair and a smattering of freckles.
It’s the same photo from the yearbook. Odd that they’d use such an old picture when she must have died years later—
Annette Marie Donleavy. 1987–2005.
I inhale so deeply that Theo stirs against me. I turn to kiss his shoulder and then pause, struck by how automatic that instinct was.
I want to stay there longer. Kiss him again, snuggle in and be a girl with a guy in the back of a car, my heart soaring with hope and possibility, forgetting—for a moment—what’s on my phone screen.
I take a deep breath. Then I look at my phone again.
Annette Donleavy died the year my parents ran from Westdale.
Maybe she died after graduation and—
Funeral to be held March 12, 2005.
My fingers tighten on the phone.
The obituary contains only the barest smattering of facts, mostly dealing with the service, and the usual “survived by” list of relatives. There’s nothing about Annette herself beyond trite phrases like “taken too soon” and “claimed by the angels.” As for cause of death? “Died unexpectedly.”
Does that mean suicide?
Using her death date, I dig deeper. It takes a while before I find any mention, and when I do, it’s in a community paper for a town near Westdale, and it doesn’t even get her name right, listing her as Annie Dunleavy.
“Annie Dunleavy” died in a single-vehicle accident on March 7, 2005.
She was the driver of said vehicle. There were no other occupants.
The accident was believed to have occurred in the wee hours of the morning, and the car was found early that morning.
“Miss Dunleavy” was a student at the very exclusive Westdale Academy.
Calls made to the school for a statement were not returned.
Annette died on a back road between Westdale and Savannah, on a Wednesday, which means she was out on a weekday night, which is not allowed.
Annette Donleavy was a Westdale student who died in an accident, under circumstances that don’t make sense.
Just like Jenna Moreno.
“Cecilia,” I say, harshly and loudly enough that Theo startles.
“Hmm?” he says, rubbing his eyes.
I hesitate, knowing I should tell him to go back to sleep. But we’re only about twenty minutes from Westdale.
“I know why Cecilia helped Maddox with his sister,” I say.
More eye rubbing, combined with a yawn. “Why?”
“I’ve been looking into a girl named Annette Donleavy. She was a Lilith at the same time as my mom and Cecilia. I saw her name in conjunction with my dad, which made me curious.”
Theo adjusts, sliding his arm behind my back. “Your dad?”
“I’ll get to that. The point is that I was curious but not alarmed. Just a little mystery that I hoped would shed more light on my parents’ time at Westdale. I was doing that by searching on Annette just now. She died the year she was at Westdale.”
Now he straightens. “What happened?”
“I only found this.” I show him my screen. “It’s a very short article from a very small paper that didn’t even spell her name right. According to it, she died in a single-vehicle accident late on a Wednesday night. No witnesses.”
“Shit.” He puts his window down for fresh air as he shakes off sleep. “So Cecilia knew her. They were in the Liliths together.”
“Yep, which I suspect means Cecilia wasn’t just helping Maddox out of the goodness of her heart.”
“Jenna’s death reminded her of Annette’s.”
“And that’s also why Cecilia won’t give an opinion on Jenna’s death. She—”
I lean toward the window as we pass the Westdale gates. “We’ll see Maddox in a few minutes. We can talk more then.” I look at Theo. “Is that okay? Or would you rather hold onto this?”
“Personally? I’d rather not give him this until it seems to definitely mean something. But I don’t want to keep it from him.”
“I agree.”
“And on the topic of Maddox, I’ve told him everything.”
“Everything about…?”
“Tonight. We were messaging earlier while you were chatting with Polly. I told him about my uncle, my dad, my meltdown, our kiss.”
“Wait. What?”
Theo sighs and slumps against the seat. “Couldn’t slip that last part by you, could I?”
“Uh, no.”
“I wanted to be the one to tell him.”
“What exactly did you say?”
“That you and I talked. And then we kissed.”
“I asked what exactly—”
“That’s between me and Maddox. What you need to know is that he is aware that we kissed and we intend to keep kissing, within a nonexclusive relationship, and he’s fine with that.”
“Fine how? Okay with it? Not thrilled but accepting? Or actually fine or—?” I stop myself and take a deep breath. “You’re right. It’s between you and him.”
“And he”—Theo tilts my face to his—“is fine with it. We’ve been best friends since we were five, Lil. That’s why I let him know quietly and privately. So I could get his honest reaction. And I wouldn’t have kissed you at all if I didn’t know he’d be okay with it—that he expected it.”
“Okay. Sorry if I freaked out.”
“Oh, I expected that.” He leans over, lips coming to mine. Then the driver rolls down the divider, making us both jump.
“They asked for a ten-minute warning before we arrived,” she says.
I’m about to ask what she means when the car stops, and Kai is there, pulling open the door, Isolde and Polly behind them, at least a half dozen others on the front steps.
“Finally,” Isolde says. “Tell us everything.”
I glance at Theo. This is not what either of us wanted to do right now, but our friends are waiting, having stayed up to get the scoop on the gala.
I message Maddox.
Me
We’ve been waylaid by a welcoming committee
Maddox
Yeah, I snuck past them.
See you when you get here.
I’ll save you a soda