Chapter 5
Ethan
Silence settles around me as I wait.
But the front door doesn’t open.
Tilda doesn’t appear in a window.
And I have no reason to follow her footsteps. No reason to knock on her door.
But those fucking tears.
I don’t get it.
Was it the cut-up ribbon?
Was it talking about Jack?
And why do I feel sick to my stomach?
I tip my head back and look up at the sky.
Jack, what the fuck were you thinking, leaving your mountain house to a girl like Tilda?
I lower my gaze and shift it to Jack’s old-ass pickup truck and try to picture pretty Tilda driving it.
I try to picture her climbing into it.
Tilda’s not shockingly short. But she’s below average height, whereas Jack was tall and lanky. Meaning he had no use for running boards, so he never installed them.
Tilda’s going to need a fucking step stool to get into the driver’s seat. If she doesn’t, and she wears a dress like the one she’s wearing now, the whole damn town is gonna know what her panties look like.
I don’t like that thought.
A breeze blows through the trees, and a few of the suncatchers swing in the wind.
I stand by the fact that this shit is unnecessary.
But… maybe… it’s not as horrible as I first thought it was.
Sighing, I step forward, then crouch down and stick my hand into the murky puddle.
My fingers find what they’re searching for, and I pull the strand of beads out of the muck.
I drape them over the edge of the box holding even more suncatchers and glare down at Tilda’s discarded scissors.
The tool she brandished as a weapon.
Don’t shoot me.
Which one of them sent you?
My cousin didn’t send you?
Standing, I stare at the front door.
Is her family trying to kill her?
I look around the property.
It’s remote. Hard to find if you don’t have the address. But there’s no security. No gate. And if someone who wasn’t supposed to be here found her…
It’s remote. Hard to find.
Unease crawls up my arms, but I shake it off.
Jack would’ve told me if his family was homicidal.
She must just be overreacting.
The edges of my mouth pull down.
Would a woman who smiles through her tears ask questions she didn’t mean?
Feeling like a total piece of shit, I turn away from Jack’s house and toward the fence.
I don’t slow my stride as I climb the small hill.
And I don’t slow as I enter the forest.
When I reach the fence, I brace the hand not full of ribbon on top of the post and hop over the barbed wire.
I make it two steps past the fence line before I stop and turn around.
The cut end of the ribbon hangs limply, already frayed. The once cheery decoration is now torn and sad.
I inhale the scent of pine.
Then I take two steps.