Chapter 6
6
DAISY
M y head is pounding. I groan, curling up into a ball and hiding my face when I crack my eyes open and the light from the window makes it ten times worse.
My stomach rolls and I hug my middle under the covers that feel rough against my skin.
‘Up and at ’em, Daisy!’ calls a voice that’s entirely too peppy.
It takes me a moment to place it. No one at The Heath sounds like that.
You’re not at The Heath , my sluggish mind supplies. You haven’t been for two weeks.
I’m at Richmond. I squint out at Shade from the edge of the covers, wondering why he’s in my room.
‘What time is it?’ I force out.
‘Six.’
‘What day?’
‘Sunday.’
I close my eyes and swallow hard.
‘I think I’m ill,’ I say with another groan, burrowing further into the covers.
My arse hole of a stepbrother laughs and the sound feels like it’s splitting my ears.
‘You’re fine. There’s some pills on the table next to you. They’ll have you feeling better in no time. Come on. I’m taking you to the house.’
‘What house?’ I mutter.
‘ The house,’ he replies.
I stiffen. Why would he be taking me there unless it’s because John wants to see me? And, if he wants to see me, it’s because he’s heard I’m not doing well in my classes and I’m being shipped back over to The Heath.
The panic takes me by surprise and he must hear the shuddering breaths I try to contain because I hear him step closer.
‘My father isn’t there,’ he says quietly, correctly guessing the cause.
My stomach clenches painfully all of a sudden, and I jump out of the bed. I run from the room and down the hall, just getting the door closed before I vomit into the toilet bowl.
When it’s done, I feel a little better and, with shaky hands, I turn on the shower. I take off the pretty black dress from last night and throw it in the corner. The night is hazy. I remember being stopped at the party and drinking juice, but after that, nothing but fragments.
I make the shower hot and stay in it longer than two minutes for the first time in a decade. I think I make it to five before I start feeling antsy. I wonder if The Heath’s rules will always stay with me.
I hope not. But it’s only been a few days. It’ll take time.
When I get out, I find two folded white towels on the edge of the sink and I frown as I glance at the unlocked door. I didn’t even hear anyone come in, and, not liking that at all, I resolve to make sure I always lock it in future. But I use the towels because I forgot mine in my rush not to throw up all over the floor.
When I step back into my room, Shade is sitting on my bed.
‘Time to go,’ he says impatiently, not looking at me.
‘I told you,’ I say. ‘I’m not well.’
He rolls his eyes toward me and he freezes, his eyes linger on my towel-clad body.
He clears his throat and stands up. ‘That’s just the alcohol from last night.’
I shake my head. ‘I didn’t have any alcohol.’
He laughs and I wince as it makes my head pound harder. ‘I have it on good authority that you were playing a drinking game. We went through this last night. You thought it was juice, remember?’
‘But, they said ...’ My eyes widen. How could I have been so stupid? Of course they lied. A mortifying and somewhat hazy snippet comes to me. I was laughing at the table, glasses in front of me. At the time, I’d thought they were laughing with me.
‘Oh,’ I say quietly and when I force my eyes to Shade, I’m surprised he’s not laughing at me too. But that’s almost worse. For the first time, I’m glad I can’t read expressions unless I’m trying very, very hard because I know that in the absence of mirth, I’d see his pity instead.
He looks away first and gestures to my desk. ‘There’s a bank card there. It’s your allowance. The pin is your birthday.’
He knows my birthday?
‘Thanks,’ I say, wondering if there’s enough on it to buy schoolbooks and maybe a cheap phone.
He shrugs. ‘Don’t lose it. You’re not getting another one. ’
‘Why are we going to the house if John isn’t there?’ I ask, changing the subject.
‘I thought you might like to look through your mom’s stuff,’ he answers, looking away, ‘but if it’s too soon?—’
‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘I’d like to do that.’
I think about the notes. I can get some more information while I’m there. Maybe I’ll find something in her possessions that will give me some answers, or direction.
I open the door, inviting him to leave so I can get changed. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’
He gives me a nod. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen.’
When I’m alone, I put my head in my hands, allowing myself a moment before I grab the pain killers off the nightstand and drink them down along with the entire glass of water. I pick out a pair of black ripped jeans and a black tank top. I throw a gray sweatshirt with pink flowers on the front over the top and slip on my sneakers. Putting up my hair as I go, I make my way downstairs.
The kitchen is deserted, but as I walk through the house, I notice more than one person passed out on a couch or in a chair and I see some pledges cleaning. One is disinfecting the kitchen and loading the dishwasher and two more are mopping the floor where the beer pong table was. It’s already looking like the party never even happened.
I think about making my morning tea and my stomach immediately revolts.
‘Ready?’
I jump a little at the sudden voice and whirl around to face Shade. ‘Sure.’
He eyes my outfit.
‘What?’ I ask, a little self-consciously.
‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘It’s just ... you dress ... not how I remember. ’
I roll my eyes. ‘I was a kid when we knew each other,’ I remind him. ‘Do you dress the same?’
He looks down at his own jeans, tee, and the black blazer he has over it.
I like the way his clothes look, I realize. I like the way he looks. I mean I always enjoyed his eyes and his smile even when we were kids, but he’s grown into his face, I suppose.
‘No,’ he says after a moment. ‘But you always used to put on the same thing every day. Your mom couldn’t get you to wear anything else.’
I bristle. ‘I liked that shirt and the leggings were comfy,’ I say, knowing exactly what clothes he’s talking about and remembering that they mysteriously disappeared out of the laundry one day never to be seen again.
At the time, I had no idea why practically all my other clothes felt like sandpaper on my skin or were really uncomfortable in general. I thought everyone felt that way. Now, I know better, but it doesn’t matter. I’m a grown-up, I tell myself, and I don’t care about that stuff anymore...or, maybe after ten years in what passed for clothes at The Heath, I can just wear most things without them making me crazy.
We leave the house and get into Shade’s car that’s parked by the side of the house. As soon as my seatbelt clicks, he’s putting his foot down and we fly down the driveway, skidding out onto the road so fast that I’m thrown into the door.
I narrow my eyes and side-eye him as my stomach lurches. ‘Unless you want to be paying for a deep-clean in your car, I suggest you stop it.’
He pretends to ignore me, but I notice that he slows down and cracks the window for me.
It’s not long before we pull up at the huge house I lived at for just a year, and I take it in in a way I wasn’t able to after the funeral .
Shade gets out of the car and I follow a little belatedly, noticing that I feel a little better after the car ride. I guess the pills have kicked in.
My eyes survey the beautiful facade. My mom lived here while I was in The Heath. All that time I never even heard from her. Did she think of me, I wonder. Did she remember my birthdays? At Christmas every year, when she put Andrew and Jack’s presents under the tree, did she buy something for her actual daughter like she did for her step kids? Maybe a gift that was never given? Something that Stoke or the blanks never delivered to me at The Heath?
Wishful thinking.
Pushing the painful thoughts away, I trail behind Shade as the door to the house opens. I nod at the butler, acknowledging him properly. I didn’t the other day, I don’t think, even though I recognized him from when I was a kid.
‘Hi, Stevens,’ I mutter, forcing a small, tight smile.
‘Miss Marguerite,’ he answers with a small incline of his head.
I look around the large airy foyer thoughtfully. It looks largely the same.
I have a couple of things to do,’ Shade says, walking off without another word.
I stare after him for a moment. I suppose it’s a bit rude that he’s just taking off and not playing host. This isn’t my house, after all. But instead I’m surprised he even bothered to tell me where he was going. I’ve barely seen him since that first day, so this is new.
I turn to find that Stevens is gone as well, off doing whatever butlers do, I suppose. The gray marble stairs loom before me and I walk up them slowly, my shoes hardly making a sound. I get to the landing and follow the wide corridor to the end where a closed door awaits. I try the handle and it opens easily, but where my bed and my bureau once were, there’s nothing. The room is empty. Even the pink wallpaper is gone. It’s just white walls and a light gray carpet, now.
How I begged my mom for that wallpaper when we first moved in. I even asked John, and I never spoke to him if I could help it. He made a big deal about it, of course. ‘Don’t get into trouble at school.’ ‘Make sure you talk politely to adults when you’re spoken to, and don’t forget to smile.’ Yada. Yada. Yada.
I close the door quietly and turn towards the room across from mine. My mom’s room. It didn’t occur to me as a kid that John and my mom having separate space even though they were married was weird, but maybe that’s just how rich people do things.
I open the door and frown. There’s nothing in this room either, except a bed and a vanity with a chair in front of it. Maybe she started sharing with John after all.
I walk back down the hallway to the first door and open it slowly. I know John isn’t here, but this is still his bedroom. I peer inside. It’s pretty nondescript actually. I leave the door wide as I go in, not wanting anyone to think I’m sneaking around if I’m found in here. I go into the bathroom, but it’s only men’s toiletries that I see on the side. The next room is large, I remember, though I only saw it once when we first got here and I was snooping around my new home. It was a dressing room before. I look inside and see it hasn’t changed much, but there are no woman’s clothes. It’s just rows of suits and shiny leather shoes.
I hear a creak behind me and look over my shoulder. It’s Shade. He quirks a brow at me.
‘Your mom’s room was down the hall,’ he says, eyes narrowing just a little .
‘I’m not trying to steal John’s ties, or something,’ I say, shaking my head at him. ‘I’m trying to find my mom’s things.’
He gives me a look. ‘They’re in her room, Daisy,’ he says like I’m the idiot.
Without giving me a chance to argue, he leaves the room and walks quickly down the hall. He throws open the door like he’s angry.
‘See?’ he begins but stops short.
I catch up and peek around him at the room as if it’s somehow changed in the past minute and half.
‘Stevens!’ he bellows, making me jump and cover my ears with a wince.
The butler appears on the landing near the stairs. ‘Sir?’
‘Where are Mrs. Novelle’s things?’
Stevens’ eyes flick to me, but his expression stays blank ... I think. ‘Mr. Novelle ordered her rooms to be cleared, sir.’
Shade frowns. ‘So soon after ...’
‘Yes, sir. He expressed an interest that it be done quickly.’ Stevens clears his throat. ‘If I may, sir, I believe he was quite stricken by the sudden ...’ his eyes flick to me, ‘ passing of Mrs. Novelle. He asked for everything to be done as soon as possible.’
I take a step back, a feeling I don’t understand rising quickly. ‘Everything?’ I ask. My voice sounds shaky to my ears, and I make an effort to keep myself under control.
I feel Shade’s eyes on me, and Stevens winces enough for me to notice. He looks chagrined, actually, I think as I survey his features, searching for the facial markers that are typically so difficult for me.
‘I believe the closet hasn’t been finished yet, Miss Marguerite,’ he says quietly, not looking at me.
I nod and go back into the bare room, walking calmly, almost woodenly, over to the closet and opening it slowly. I take in a breath and then another quicker one when the smell hits me. It’s not musty or damp, it’s her perfume. I’m transported for a second to a moment in the hotel the night before she left me at The Heath. She put her arms around me and, for a couple of seconds, I let her, I breathed in the smell of her. She whispered in my ear that she loved me and she knew I loved her, too. She told me to be careful.
I’d forgotten that.
My cheeks are wet. The tears I lied to Stoke about when he’d asked me if I’d cried have actually arrived.
I hear movement behind me and I’m suddenly angry that others are intruding on this moment. They had her for the past decade. I didn’t.
‘Can you give me a moment, please?’ I ask, glad when my voice doesn’t betray me.
‘Of course, Miss Marguerite,’ I hear Stevens murmur.
It was only him here, then. Good.
I open the door wider and see the small walk-in closet in front of me. There’s not much here. Some shoes and dresses, some belts and scarves. There’s a spot for watches and other jewelry, but it’s empty. The shelves have nothing on them. I guess Stevens doesn’t know everything. They’ve started clearing in here already too.
I touch the clothes, running my fingers over the silk scarves. Taking in a deep breath, I prepare to go. No more tears are forthcoming and, besides the lingering scent of perfume, there’s nothing else here that reminds me of her at all.
But as I turn to go, my eyes fall to a bright red envelope propped up against the wall by the door. It’s partially hidden behind a tall boot as if it fell from the bare shelves unnoticed; maybe when they were carting things out. It’s the color that makes me pause. Everything else in here is dark or muted in some way. Even the scarves aren’t vivid .
I reach down to pick it up and turn it over. It’s sealed. There’s no name on it.
I shouldn’t open it. It’s someone else’s. But there’s literally nothing else here, and I find I can’t stop myself as I poke my index finger under the paper. It begins to rip.
I pull out what’s inside.
A card.
A birthday card. With daisies on it.
My heart begins to pound hard as I slowly thumb the edge. Taking a breath, I steel myself and flip it open. I already know it’s for me.
Daisy
Happy twenty-second birthday, my darling girl.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant for this. I was trying to prote I never thought
I know you’ll never read this, that you don’t want to hear from me, but I hope that one day you’ll forgive me.
Mom x
I sink to the beige carpet. A card that she wrote for my birthday last year but clearly never meant to send. I look at the crossed out words, not understanding. And then at the penultimate line. She thought I didn’t want to hear from her ?
A sob bubbles up from deep inside. I would have given anything for even a note from her at The Heath.
Why did she believe I didn’t want to hear from her?
I hear a creak outside the closet, and I try to pull myself together. I fold up the card, not really sure what I’m doing or why. But this didn’t even have my name on it. No one was meant to see it. I thrust it into the back pocket of my jeans and cover it with my sweatshirt.
Shade opens the door.
At the sight of me on my knees, he stops and I quickly get up, wiping my eyes and cheeks with my sleeve hastily, embarrassment coursing through me.
He’s staring.
‘Sorry,’ he says belatedly.
Whether it’s for my loss, or because he barged in on a private moment, I don’t know.
‘Did she ever talk about me?’ I hear myself blurt, and then scold myself silently for asking.
‘No.’ He turns away. ‘Not ever.’
I flinch at the words, but at least he delivers them matter-of-factly. He doesn’t pretend and I’m glad.
I nod.
‘Did you think she would?’ he suddenly says, whirling back to face me.
His tone has changed. It’s colder. Biting.
I force myself not to go back into the closet even though I’d love to lock the doors and hide alone in the dark.
But that’s not allowed.
‘After that night, did you think any of us would talk about you? Miss you?’
I flinch. Why is he saying these things?
I don’t respond. I know I won’t even be able to get my lips to form words, so I don’t even try. I just watch him going in for the kill, unable to stop his words. They’re a locomotive hurtling toward the end of the track.
I can’t listen.
‘You killed someone, Margu?—’
I slip past him and lunge for the door .
But he’s fast.
He grabs me, his fingers bruising my arm. He takes hold of my ponytail in a tight grip and angles my face up to his.
At least I can attribute my tears to the sting of my scalp this time and not his horrible words, however warranted they might be. I hate that I notice how he smells, and that, despite what he’s saying and doing, it’s relaxing me in a weird way.
‘Don’t you fucking dare run from me!’ he hisses, pulling harder.
My lips tremble.
‘I stood up for you. Did you know that? You told me you were on the track. You told me you were fucking practicing for Cross Country. I told the cops that. I told them it couldn’t have been you. I told them you were my best friend, that you’d never do something like that.’ His fingers in my hair clench hard, ripping a cry from me.
‘I believed you. I fucking believed you. God, I was so dumb.’
If I could shake my head, I would.
I open my mouth, willing something to come out, but I can’t. What would I even say? That night is seared into my memory and yet ... I shy away from it. It’s too much. It always was.
I do what I always did at The Heath when Stoke wanted to talk about it. I bury it deep, I put it far away and don’t think about it.
Our eyes meet and he angles my face up toward his. Then, his lips are on mine. My body jerks in surprise, unable to process what he’s doing. Lots of thoughts flit through my head.
He’s kissing me.
Why?
I didn’t see this coming .
It’s different than that time in his bedroom when we were barely teens.
His lips are hard.
I like it.
He pulls my hair and uses my gasp to slide his tongue into my mouth. It mingles with mine, gentle now. Coaxing.
A thick arm snakes around me and draws me closer, making me shiver, but it’s not from fear or revulsion. A sound finally escapes me, a breathy, muffled moan.
And the spell is broken.
He releases me like I’m poison and steps away from me so quickly that he bangs into the wall. He’s panting as hard as I am, and I can’t take my eyes off him.
He’s staring at me with a look on his face that could be surprise, shock, disgust, anger or arousal. Maybe all of them at once.
Without another word, he turns and flees the room. I stare at the place where he was, blinking slowly, trying to work out what just happened, why he would say those things and then kiss me.
Numbly, I touch my lips, finding them a little swollen as I walk from the room and down the stairs. I go outside and walk around to the back where the terrace is, where I can look over the tiered gardens toward the lake.
There’s no one out here, so I go down a few of the steps and around to the side where I can sit on the wall behind the tall, box hedge and no one can see me from the house. I used to come here a lot the year my mom married John.
I feel the card in my back pocket and stare out at the trees while I think. My mom never sent me anything, never called, never visited. I thought it was because of what had happened. What I’d done to that boy.
Mike Larson. He’d been a year older, but he was in my class because he was held back. He’d been one of the cool kids. He was usually the one to start calling me names in the hallway. He’d crush the ladybugs that used to wander around in the science classroom after he saw that it upset me. He threw worms at me, and then called me a freak when I didn’t get grossed out or squeal like the other girls. He pushed me in the hall. He tripped me a few times, too. But he always made sure it looked like it was me falling over my own feet. I was clumsy, so it wasn’t too far outside the realm of possibility.
He did Cross Country, too. We were running on the track that evening. I remember that. He tripped me on purpose and I was angry. I pushed him as hard as I could and he went down ...
I give myself a shake. There’s no point in thinking about this. Instead, I focus on my mom. Why would she have thought I didn’t want contact with her? Did John tell her that? Stoke? And the words she used in the card, the ones she’d crossed out. She was trying to protect me, but from what? The police? I think back to the night before she left me at The Heath. She said to be careful. At the time, I just thought it was what moms said, but it strikes me now as an odd thing to murmur while we were sharing perhaps the first hug where I didn’t immediately pull away.
And the notes I’ve been getting. I thought it was a poor joke, but what if it isn’t? Was my mom actually murdered?
Who would do that? Why?
The questions are mounting and I don’t know what to do. If she was killed, I should find out, shouldn’t I? Who else will if I don’t? The Novelles? Yeah, right. John is clearly moving on, Andrew is at Harvard or wherever, and Shade is ... well I don’t know what he is, but he seems to have his hands full with the frat and his senior year. Plus, he doesn’t seem all that cut up about my mom’s death either, frankly.
I stand up, deciding to try to figure out what’s going on. I walk the other way to the front of the house and find Shade standing by the car. He barely looks at me as he opens his door and gets in. He starts the engine as soon as I’m in. I barely have time to buckle up before he’s revving the car out of the circular drive and down the road.
‘I’m still not feeling well,’ I mutter and he slows down minutely.
I narrow my eyes as I stare out the window, trying not to throw up while also thinking of how I might find out more about my mom and what happened to her.
I don’t know enough about how things work, I decide. I need help. I side-eye Shade and stifle a very British scoff.
As if.
But I do have a friend now and I can see Lu being a good sleuth. I think she has a shift with me tomorrow, so maybe I can find a minute to ask her then.
I’m so buried in my thoughts that I don’t notice at first that we aren’t heading back toward the campus. When we pull off the road into a car park ... parking lot , I give Shade a questioning look.
‘Where are we?’ I ask him.
‘Richmond National Park. We’re going to have some fun.’
I stare out the window, confused until I see Mav and Blake next to a large truck and ... is that a ... raft?
My heart sinks. I think I know what we’re here for, and it’s not going to be fun at all.
Mav
I resist the urge to grin when I see her face in the passenger seat of Shade’s car, and I wonder how he got her here. I can already tell this isn’t her kind of thing at all. I’ll bet he didn’t even tell her .
She gets out of the car slowly and regards the raft that we’re holding like it’s an alligator and not a glorified dingy.
‘I’ll stay here and wait,’ she murmurs, and Shade turns around to face her so fast that she takes a step back.
She looks scared.
I frown as he looms over her and he says something I can’t hear through clenched teeth. She deflates, her eyes finding me and Blake before she closes them. Then she nods in resignation.
‘Great!’ Shade exclaims. ‘I knew you’d come around, sis.’
He smirks as he turns away and gives Blake and me a wink. We wait as he quickly shucks his outer clothes for something more appropriate for the river and throws them in his car. If she’s wondering why she hasn’t been given the option to change into anything else, she doesn’t voice it.
‘Come on! The water should be pretty high from the rain we’ve been getting,’ Blake says, pulling the boat toward the nearby trees.
Shade takes hold of one of the raft’s handles and we walk from the deserted parking lot along the trail for a few minutes to the river. She follows behind us slowly until we come to a halt. She watches while we lay the boat down by the shore and put on our life jackets.
‘I don’t have one of those,’ she says from just behind me. She sounds relieved.
Shade’s grin is malicious. ‘Don’t worry, Daisy. Mav bought one just for you.’
‘How thoughtful,’ she murmurs through clenched teeth, and I smile while my back is still to her.
She sounds like she’d love to strangle Shade and me both.
‘We better keep an eye on Daisy, here,’ I laugh. ‘She might try to drown us.’
But as I turn around expecting her to be at the very least rolling her eyes at us, I notice instead that the color has drained from her face. Her eyes flick to me and then to Shade.
‘I wouldn’t,’ she says quietly, looking at the ground.
‘I was kidding.’
I’m missing something. I look over my shoulder at Shade who just shrugs.
‘Here.’ I hold out the smaller life jacket to her and she takes it hesitantly. She puts it on and eyes our clothes as if she’s only just realizing that the three of us are dressed for this.
‘I’m not dressed for this,’ she says, echoing my thoughts. ‘I could just wait by the cars.’
‘You’re coming,’ Shade says firmly. ‘You might even like it. Some fresh air will probably make you feel better.’
She nods with the enthusiasm of a child being made to do homework, and I step forward. ‘Want me to make sure it’s on right?’
‘Okay.’
I ignore the guys’ eyes I can feel on my back as I check that the clasps are all locked in place. She stiffens when my hands delve underneath to make sure it’s tight enough but doesn’t look at me. I see her nostrils flaring, though, like she’s smelling me.
‘Good to go,’ I say as I step away. ‘What time are the pledges coming to grab the cars?’
‘In about thirty minutes. They’ll be waiting for us downriver later.’
‘Okay,’ Blake says, punching the air. ‘Let’s go!’
We put the boat in the water and pile in. I’m at the back with Daisy, and the other two are at the front. I glance at her as Blake throws her an oar that she fumbles to catch.
‘Don’t drop it in the water, and try not to fall out, princess.’ She misses his sneer. ‘The river’s freezing.’
Shade’s lip curls as she grips the oar like she’s never held one before. ‘You have our packs at your feet for weight distribution since you’re lighter. Don’t lose them.’
I hold my oar up so she can see how to grip it and she adjusts her fingers.
‘Perfect. This is gonna be fun,’ I grin, but I falter a little when she looks out at the rushing river and her scared eyes widen.
The first time I did this, I was a sophomore in high school, and Dom took me out because he knew I was hung over as shit. I felt like hell and the bouncing around made me want to die. I glance at Daisy a little worriedly, but I shake it off.
The memory of that is why I decided on this today instead of a hike. The white water rafting is just the thing to make her miserable, I remind myself. The whole point of this afternoon and tonight is to make her uncomfortable, scared, tired, and wrung out ... and it’s only going to get worse before the week starts. With any luck, she’ll be gone by Monday morning.
We push off into the rapids and the raft pitches and rolls. Right out of the gate, we’re using our oars and trying to keep the boat from tipping. It’s actually not too bad. This stretch of river is only Class Two, maybe Three today with the water so much higher, but nothing we can’t handle.
I hear a feminine scream and laugh as I see a wave drench Daisy. She’s going to be freezing by the time we get to the cars in a couple of hours. Too bad none of us remembered to bring her any spare clothes.
My grin is nasty as I watch her flail with the oar. She has the coordination of a newborn foal. Her movements exaggerated and largely useless. But I don’t tell her what she’s doing wrong. She’ll just wear herself out faster.
I look out at the forest around us.
Nature .
I’m not a huge fan if I’m completely honest. I like the cleanliness of the lab, and the controllable variables. But I have to admit that out here like this I can imagine living in a cabin hidden in the trees and losing contact with the world for a while.
The minutes wear on and my attention is taken up by the current. There are sections which are narrow and quick, worse than I thought they’d be despite the elevated water levels.
I vaguely hear Shade and Blake yelling at her when she doesn’t do things right or correct our course fast enough, and I almost feel bad. It’s not like she’s ever done anything like this before, that much is obvious. I glance at her in my periphery to see that she’s staring straight ahead at nothing. Her movements mimic Blake’s. Her face is shuttered.
Then a particularly large wave comes out of nowhere. Our boat tips and we fight the fast-moving water to stay upright.
‘Fuck!’ I whoop at the top of my lungs, a smile overtaking my face. ‘I live for this shit!’
I hear the other guys yelling and laughing, and I take a deep breath, absorbing the moment, my adrenaline pumping.
But when the worst is over, and the boat levels out, Daisy isn’t there.
‘Shit! Man overboard. Woman overboard!’
Shade and Blake’s faces turn as I scan the river frantically. But she’s disappeared.
‘Fuck, I can’t see her!’
‘Where is she?’
I see movement and I realize it’s on the edge of the raft. A pale hand is gripping the handle that was closest to her seat.
I lean over the side and grab for her, my fingers closing around what I know by feel are the straps of her life jacket. I haul with all my strength and pull her back onto the raft. She’s coughing and spluttering.
I’m an asshole.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask.
She looks through me, but I see a tiny nod before she lurches over the side and hurls.
I glance at the others. Neither of them are laughing now.
I sit back, my heart pumping. But it’s no longer excitement. It’s fear.
Luckily, from what I remember, the river widens now and that’s the worst of the rapids on this stretch, thank God. Couldn’t have come at a better time, I think as I close my eyes for a second, trying to calm down.
I hear my phone and grab it out of my pocket. It’s Shade.
No lunch stop.
I nod, glancing at Daisy who’s gone back to mimicking Blake’s moments. She looks exhausted.
‘Daisy.’
She blinks and looks at me.
‘Are you okay?’
She gives a jerky nod and continues rowing. Shade keeps glancing at her in concern, too, though he’s pretending he’s not.
As predicted, the rest of the ride is pretty relaxed, but it’s another forty minutes or so before we arrive at the spot we’ve been making for. When we get close to shore, Blake and Shade jump out and pull the raft up the bank a little. As soon as we’re out of the water, Daisy scrambles out, putting as much distance between it and her before she turns and, from behind a tree, we hear her throwing up again.
Blake rolls his eyes and we take the raft to the truck, which is parked in the nearby lot ready for us. I leave Blake to deal with that while I go find Daisy. Shade is already at his car, changing clothes .
She’s leaning against a tree. Her eyes are closed.
‘Daisy?’
She doesn’t look at me.
‘We’re leaving now.’
She straightens and walks past me. I frown. I was ready for her to start lashing out, or at least yelling from what Shade has said. But she doesn’t. She just makes her way calmly to the cars. When she gets to Shade’s sleek, black F-Type and goes to open the passenger door, he barks a loud laugh and makes her visibly flinch.
‘You think you’re getting in my car like that?’ He shakes his head at her, looking her up and down in affected disgust. ‘You should be glad we don’t make you walk the five miles back to Richmond like that after your little stunt.’
Stunt? I give him a questioning look and he gives me a weary one in return.
‘Don’t tell me you fell for that shit. She did it on purpose, bro. This is what she does! Stop playing the victim, Marguerite. It’s pathetic!’
I’d have missed another tiny wince if I wasn’t watching her closely, and I wonder if Shade is right about her. He knows her better, after all. I’m suddenly very angry at her. How dare she fuck around out there? If she’d died, we would have been so fucked.
‘You take her. I’ll meet you there,’ Shade grinds out to Blake and me, getting in his car and revving the engine loudly before he drives off.
Blake surveys our sodden companion and swears under his breath when he sees she’s still literally dripping with river water.
I turn on her, furious. ‘What were you thinking?’ I yell at her. ‘That’s the fucking wilderness out there, not a spa. You could have died messing around like that, you stupid girl.’ I take a step toward her and poke her hard in the chest, forcing her back a step. ‘If it wasn’t illegal, I’d make you ride outside in the flatbed. Do you have anything to fucking say, you brat?’
She doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, and I step closer, getting into her personal space. I put a finger under her chin, angling her face up to mine.
‘Are you going to answer him?’ Blake asks her from very close by, the gentleness of his tone making me want to tell her to speak up because Blake is as pissed as I am.
But she says nothing.
I step away with a sound of derision.
‘I’m gonna change,’ I tell Blake, almost hoping he takes up where I’m leaving off.
I know he hates being ignored.
I grab my stuff from the car and quickly lose my wet clothes behind the vehicle. When I’m done, I go back around to find Blake still staring her down. She’s just watching him, her eyes flitting around his person, but never staying on his eyes for very long.
‘We should go.’
His eyes narrow at Daisy, but he steps away.
‘I’ll be ready in a second.’ He gives Daisy a nasty smile. ‘We forgot to bring clothes for you. Sorry .’
He grabs a bag from the truck and starts getting changed in front of us. Daisy looks in the opposite direction and he laughs. ‘Afraid you’ll see something you can’t have, sweetheart?’
No reaction.
‘I’m driving,’ he says, and I throw him the keys from my pocket.
He climbs up into the truck and I open the passenger door only to find that the back is full of random equipment from our outdoor excursions.
Fuck .
I hear him mutter the same thing when he turns his head to look.
‘I forgot all this shit was still in here. She’ll have to sit up front with us.’
I grab a towel from the back and throw it on the seat, motioning her to climb up.
She does and sits on the towel, staring straight ahead and trying not to touch Blake, I notice.
I grin as I climb in, making sure to sit close, jostle her, and sandwich her tightly between us, which isn’t hard because there’s barely enough room for Blake and me when she’s not in here with us.
Blake starts the engine and she puts on the middle seatbelt. She’s sitting up straight and her hands are in her lap.
‘Relax,’ I mutter. ‘It’s over.’
But it’s not. It’s only just beginning for her.
We drive for a few minutes in silence with the windows cracked, listening to the radio. Daisy doesn’t move except when the truck makes her. She doesn’t let out a sound, so it’s a surprise when I glance over at her and her jaw is clenched. I peer at her more closely. Her hands in her lap are gripping her thighs tightly. I shift nearer. She’s trembling.
Making a snap decision, I throw on the heat and give Blake a hard look when he gives me an eyeroll.
He takes out his phone and starts texting while he’s driving, making me frown. My cell buzzes.
WTF?
When I don’t answer, I get another look and I sigh, texting back quickly. It’s not like there are any other cars out on these backroads anyway.
We wanted her to be uncomfortable, not give her hypothermia!
Not even cold out.
She’s tiny. Not as much muscle mass as us. Feels the cold more. Be logical and stop getting so pissed off. It’s not personal .
Blake side-eyes me and snorts.
The rest of the trip is spent messaging my brother, making sure everything’s okay at the club. He assures me that everything is under control and he doesn’t need any help. I did think about taking Daisy there tonight, since Saturday nights are special and always garner a raucous crowd, but we might need to be in the lab later, so bringing her back to a very loud frat house will work better anyway.
We pull up out front of Deb’s Bar and Grill next to Shade’s car. We both get out. She doesn’t move from her spot on the towel.
‘Get out of the fucking truck!’ I order loudly, and this time her wince is pronounced.
She turns to my side and avoids my gaze, but I’m sure I see tears in her eyes and her breathing sounds a little stuttered. Is she crying?
Her feet land on the ground and she walks in front of me, behind Blake, so I can’t see her face.
Blake tears open the door and raucous laughter spills out.
‘Busy,’ Blake comments over his shoulder, going inside.
I hold the door for Daisy, but at the threshold, she freezes. Her feet just stop. Her hands at her sides flex, her fingers straightening and widening oddly.
What game is she playing now?
‘Go inside,’ I say, giving her a light nudge that seems to snap her out of her dramatics.
She steps in and I walk around her, taking her arm and pulling her along with me when she doesn’t move. I see Shade at a table by the bar.
The place is packed, and when I glance at the nearest TV, I see why. NFL is on. I don’t care enough about football to see what teams are playing, so I urge Daisy toward the booth.
She slides in next to Shade and I follow .
Shade raises a brow at me as he passes out some menus and Blake gets to the table.
Daisy puts the menu in front of her face, and Shade rips it away and puts it on the table in front of her.
‘Remember the rules. No hiding.’
‘Rules?’
Shade leans back, sliding an arm behind Daisy on the seat. He doesn’t touch her, but I see her tense. ‘My dad had a list of rules for when Daisy was in public. Right, Daisy?’
She gives a small, blank nod.
‘If she didn’t stick to them, she was punished when we got home.’
I feel my eyebrows rising. ‘Punished?’ My tone is colder than I thought it would be, and I see a little surprise in Shade’s expression.
‘Yeah. Stupid stuff like she had to clean the toilets or she lost TV privileges. Remember that, Daisy?’
She nods again very faintly.
‘What the fuck is wrong with her?’ I mouth over her head at Shade.
He just shrugs and gestures at her person with an eyeroll.
The drinks come and the waitress puts the tray on the table.
‘We’re ready to order,’ Shade says to her. ‘I’ll have the steak and fries. Rare. She’ll have the shrimp.’
‘I’ll take the cheeseburger. Medium well. No fries,’ I say absently and I hear Blake order the same as I watch Daisy out of the corner of my eye.
She doesn’t show much, this girl, but I’m starting to see tells. Her hands clench. Her lips thin just a little. She’s not happy at all, especially when the bar erupts into cheers because somebody scored. She curls into herself at the uproar, seeming smaller and smaller.
Blake passes the drinks out and I try to keep the scowl I want to give him at bay when he slams two shots down in front of Daisy, and nothing else. He was being a little nicer to her than I expected. I didn’t think he agreed with my plan, but it looks like he’s all in now.
Why do I care?
‘Hair of the dog,’ he laughs.
I can’t help but reach out to take them off her. I’m feeling more and more like a Grade-A asshole with every passing moment. This was my plan, but I’m regretting it hard. I didn’t like it at the river, and I like it even less now.
But her hand darts out and she lifts her head. To everyone else, her features would be blank, but I see a hint of defiance as she raises the tiny glass and throws it back.
Her look of surprise as she realizes it’s not what she was drinking last night has Blake doubling over at the table with laughter.
She wheezes and then coughs and then gasps for breath.
‘Tequila hits a little different than juice , huh?’ Blake guffaws.
She swallows hard, tears in her eyes from the burn. She keeps coughing and can’t seem to catch her breath. Her hands are open and fingers are splayed wide under the table where the others can’t see.
She’s trying to hide them, I realize. She doesn’t want anyone to notice how upset she’s getting. Does she know what we’re doing? I cast a confused look at Shade, which he ignores.
‘Come on,’ I say when she starts looking like she might throw up. ‘I’ll show you where the bathroom is.’
She follows me through the bar silently and down the hall to the bathrooms. She immediately disappears into the ladies’ room without looking back.
I lean against the wall, my anger at myself continuing to grow. I didn’t think it would be like this. I did some research last night to find the best ways to fuck with her. The most efficient ways to torture her.
Jesus. What was I thinking?
This whole thing is so fucked up. We’re terrorizing this girl. She could have died on the river today. And for what? So Shade can tell his daddy that he needs to send her home?
Fuck. There’s gotta be a better way to get what we want.
I pull out my phone and start researching her diagnosis again, but this time it’s not to mess with her. We need her gone, but not like this .