Chapter Thirty-Five
I missed her like I missed oxygen, my heart twisting. Why had Willa left without saying goodbye?
I was terrified to think of what she might have seen.
I’d tried her phone, but she hadn’t answered…not yet.
Maybe she’d seen me working, engrossed in my design and had not wanted to disturb me. But her leaving without saying anything felt strange.
I stood in the backyard, replaying last night, what we’d done in the pool, and then how much we had enjoyed our hike together.
I’d shared with her my most sacred secret.
Had she taken what I’d given her and driven to Pulse360? Was the exclusive too mind-blowing not to run with?
I didn’t believe it, even as my gut warned me something was wrong.
I had to call Cameron.
But admitting any form of intimacy with his sister wouldn’t go well. Not after I’d sworn to watch over her.
Hummingbirds flitted among the blossoms of the garden, adding a touch of life and movement to this serene hideaway.
It really was perfect—because I was seeing it through Willa’s eyes. I was willing to let the beauty in and feel pride that I’d had a hand in the design of this dreamy space, with its fragrant roses, blooming jasmine, and brightly colored bougainvillea that cascaded over trellises.
I had come out here to escape because I just couldn’t bear to watch the footage. No matter how much I knew I should, I was unable to face the cruel reality of what had happened that night.
“Greyson.”
I turned to see Willa at the kitchen door.
She moved towards me. “I had to investigate something.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” I squeezed my eyes shut, regretting the question. “You found something?”
“Yes. It’s bad.”
I met her gaze. “What did you see?”
Willa looked at me wide-eyed, breathless, and clearly traumatized by what she’d witnessed.
“There was nothing on your cameras.”
“That’s good, right?”
“They were out for several hours—disabled during that evening.”
I swallowed hard, trying to recall that night, terrified that somehow, someway, I’d come out here in a drunken haze…and done the unthinkable.
“Atticus didn’t mention it.”
Willa stepped closer. “There was no evidence of Amelia arriving, no evidence of what happened to her afterwards on your camera.”
They’d find that suspicious, which was why Atticus, and my lawyer, had made the executive decision that the cameras were off record—for now.
I shook my head. “I know how this looks.”
“It was meant to look that way. The power was cut.”
I blinked at her. “I was asleep.”
She sucked in a breath. “I know.”
I felt panic rising in my chest. “Atticus found her—in the morning, with me. The police were called immediately.”
I hadn’t tried to hide anything.
“I’m sorry.” Sadness flooded her expression.
I looked off in the distance, wracking my brain for the answers.
I had completely exposed myself to Willa, a fledgling journalist, given her access to my home and now my surveillance footage, or lack thereof.
Access to my life.
I’d spilled my soul to the one woman who could undo my existence.
“Where did you go?” I asked her.
“I had to check something out.”
I looked at her, puzzled, because she had also returned so quickly.
“Follow me outside,” she said, and then turned and headed out the door.
I followed her out into the backyard, past the pool and garden. I wanted answers, but I also wanted this agony to end. It was in her tortured expression, a hint that she might know what really happened that night.
We were both standing on a precipice.
She walked past me and pointed up. “Look there.”