Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
PRESENT DAY
The next day when I wake up, it’s to the sound of voices outside my room. It takes a moment for the fog of sleep to fade away, for me to be able to make out what they’re saying.
“Mom’s being really weird about it,” Will says.
“Well, we should probably just leave it alone then.” There’s the other voice. “It’s none of our business.”
“Ruth will always be our business,” Will argues. “She was ours, and we were hers. How can you say that?”
The missing piece clicks. The second voice is Cory, Will’s brother.
“So, what? You’re going to accuse Mom of something? Of killing her best friend?” A shiver runs through me. What are they talking about? Why would he say that?
“Of course not.”
“We’ve already lost Ruth. Whatever you do, it won’t bring her back.”
I sit up in bed, listening. What is going on? What do they know?
“We deserve to know the truth,” Will says. “Whatever it is. The police might be closing the case, but it doesn’t make sense. Why would Ruth lie about the blue truck? We both know it wasn’t a delivery guy. There’s something else going on.”
“We don’t even know if the guy had anything to do with this,” Cory says. “I get why you want answers, we all do, but maybe the answers don’t exist. Maybe it was just a horrible fucking accident that no one could’ve prevented.”
“But it doesn’t add up. Why haven’t they been able to find him? There are records for deliveries. You said it was there the week before she died, right? They should’ve found him by now.”
“I don’t know, Will. Maybe. I mean, yes, a blue truck was there, like, a week before it happened.
I don’t remember the exact day. Ruth said it was a delivery driver.
For all we know, it was. But even if it wasn’t, what does that prove?
She was alive for a whole week after that.
Alive and fine. The police are saying it’s nothing, so I need to believe them. We need to trust them.”
“But what did it look like? What kind of truck? Specifically. You’ve never said. Give me something. What shade of blue? Make, model?”
“Light blue, maybe. I told the police, just like I’ve told you. I didn’t pay that much attention. I didn’t know I’d need to remember it.”
I move quietly across my room, trying to get closer to the door, but my hip catches the nightstand, slamming it into the wall.
Their voices fall silent.
“Who is that?” Cory asks, his tone cautious. “You have a girl over?”
“Define girl,” Will says.
I whip open the door, glaring at Will.
Cory’s eyes travel over me, pure shock washing over his expression. “Opal? Hey. Happy belated birthday.” His smile fades, face turning unreadable for a moment, then horrified. “Oh my god, why are you here?” He looks back and forth between Will and me. “Are you two…”
I storm past Will. “Oh my god, no.”
“She wishes,” Will mutters.
I launch into Cory’s waiting arms. He squeezes me hard, lifting me off the ground and wiggling his hips. He plants a loud kiss on my cheek.
When he places me back on the ground, he wipes imaginary sweat from his brow. “Thank god. Can you imagine? You and Will?”
“Right?” My eyes widen. “No. Trust me. We both hate this.” I jut a thumb over my shoulder at Will, who just opens the dishwasher and begins unloading it.
“Is this where you’re staying? Mom said you were back in town. I just assumed you’d rented a place closer to the school.”
“I’m just here temporarily,” I say.
“She’s looking for a new place,” Will says at the same time.
Cory watches his brother for a second longer than necessary before he turns his gaze back to me. “Hey, I have a friend who rents a townhouse near downtown. If you want, I can get her landlord’s info. They’re decent places.”
“Really? That’d be amazing.”
To my left, Will scoffs. “You hate downtown.” He’s buffing that plate a little too hard.
“Do not.”
“Strangers screaming at two in the morning outside the window of the girl who gets jumpy when someone shuts a cabinet door in a quiet room?” He shrugs, his mouth an exaggerated frown.
“Why not? You can’t sleep with a TV on, let alone the river lights.
” His eyes meet mine finally. “But sure, Opie, by all means.”
“Oh, relax. You’re acting like I suggested she move to Times Square.
We’re talking about Clinton. And it’s nowhere even near The Tavern.
Nothing else is open in this town that late.
She’ll be fine,” Cory says, waving him off.
“If there’s a place available, I’ll take you down there myself.
Help you check it out.” His gaze flicks to Will.
Just for a second. Like he’s…determining something.
“You are a lifesaver.” I cast a look toward Will, who’s drying another plate less aggressively but clocking every moment of our interaction.
The ghost of a memory, the brush of his hand on my shoulder last night flashes in my mind, and I rip my gaze away.
Back to Cory. “What were you guys talking about, by the way? Something about the truck at Ruth’s? ”
The men exchange a look, but it’s Will who answers. “Cory doesn’t think it was connected to Ruth’s death. I…disagree.”
“You really think it was a delivery person?” I ask before turning to Will. “You didn’t tell me that. You made it seem like everyone thought she was seeing someone.”
“Yeah, well, you were busy accusing me of being a lizard person. Hard to pivot from reptilian overlord to neighborhood watch.”
I press my lips together. “Will.”
His eyes soften. “There was nothing to tell. He doesn’t think it was a big deal. Neither do the moms.” He turns and slides the plate onto the stack in the cabinet. “And apparently, neither do the police.”
“That’s…good news, right? Did you say they’re closing the case?”
Will nods, his jaw tight. “They called our moms this morning. Told them the case is officially being closed. Ruled an accident. Without a note, they don’t want to say it was self-inflicted, but there’s no evidence anyone else was involved.
Even with the weird truck and the fact that Ruth lied about who it was.
If she did,” Will quickly amends before Cory can correct him.
I fold my hands across my chest. “What if they’re wrong, though? Surely there’s some way to figure out who the man was.” I turn to face Cory. “What did you tell them, exactly?”
Cory moves toward the island, resting against it.
“That…I stopped by Mom’s, like, a week before Ruth died.
Both our moms were gone, and there was a blue truck in the driveway.
I don’t know who it was, but before I left, it was gone.
Ruth was fine. At first I thought it was weird, but I don’t know, it might’ve actually been a delivery.
No one else ever saw it, and they were both home the day she died.
All day. Someone would’ve seen if the driver came back. ”
“And you think our moms are hiding something?” I ask Will.
His gaze goes soft, thoughtful. “I just think someone has to know something. It feels weird to not get answers at all. And for them not to want to push harder. If there’s nothing to find, sure. Fine. But it’s not like them.”
“Our moms were the only ones there,” Cory says, his tone bordering on defensive. “If you’re saying someone knew, you have to mean them.”
Will cuts a sharp look his way. The words settle heavy in the air.
Will’s jaw tightens the same way mine does. Like he hates the truth of it as much as he hates hearing it out loud. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
A cold ripple skates down my spine.
Cory puffs out a long breath of air. “We can’t really do any more than we’ve already done. We all loved her. But maybe this is a good thing. Our moms deserve peace, too. This was already hard on them. And only made harder by an unnecessary investigation that was dragged out for no real reason.”
Something sinks in my gut. The finality of this moment. It’s over. It’s really over. “I should…go take a bath.”
Will looks back at me, just once, and nods. “You want breakfast?”
“I’ll probably go out.” I close my door behind me without looking back.
Alone, I bathe in silence, thinking over everything the boys said. More than ever, I want answers. Especially when it’s clear we’re the only ones searching for them now.
Who could the blue truck have belonged to?
Why would Ruth have lied about the delivery?
Do our moms know more than they’re telling us?
What did we do? The text I saw on Mom’s phone flashes in my head, beating like a drum.
All this time, I’d accepted that Ruth’s death was an accident. But to have even a glimmer of something else, the thought that someone might have hurt her and gotten away with it, it’s unbearable.
I can’t stomach it.
I’m with Will—Ruth deserves our best. She deserves the truth, whatever that may be.
But I’m also with Cory. Our moms wouldn’t do this. They’d never hurt her.
There’s something else we’re missing.
When I get out, I can hear the hum of Will and Cory talking in the kitchen, though I can’t make out what they’re saying at first. Their tones are soft. Hushed.
“…if you don’t care.” That’s Cory.
“Why would I care?” Will’s voice is low. Controlled in a way I rarely hear from him. It’s almost…empty. “I don’t.”
“Then maybe I do,” Cory says. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”
“What do you want me to say? She’s not mine. She never was.” It sounds like he’s forcing the words past something lodged in his throat. I feel a similar lump in my own. “I can’t stop you.”
There’s something different under those last words. They’re raw. Not angry, yet not as indifferent as he’s trying to sound.
“Yeah,” Cory mutters. “That’s your problem.”
Silence stretches, tight and unfinished.
I hear the door shut a few moments later and, when I make my way back into the kitchen, the air in the room has shifted.
Will is alone, and nearly mechanical as he makes breakfast. Distant. Lost in his thoughts. I take a seat, but he barely looks my way, doesn’t utter a word. Whatever warmth existed between us last night seems to have dissipated.
“I’m going out,” I tell him eventually. I’ve been sitting on this barstool for too long already, waiting for something impossible. “I’ll probably be gone most of the day.”
He nods, but he doesn’t say anything. His shoulders go rigid as if he’s bracing for something, but he just keeps stirring his eggs.
Despite my better judgment and the fact that my path to the door is clear, I move around behind the island. As I pass him, my shoulder brushes his arm. It’s hardly anything.
Still, his hand comes up automatically—fingers flexing like he’s about to catch my waist, stop me from leaving—before he thinks better of it and drops it to his side. His jaw tightens like the moment cost him something I don’t fully understand.
For just a second, his thumb grazes the fabric at my waist. Barely there, and yet still enough that my breathing stutters.
I slip on my shoes at the door. The only sound is the sizzling of the skillet. “Will? Is…everything okay?”
He pauses mid-stir. The spoon scrapes slowly against the pan before going still. When he finally looks at me, his eyes drag over my face like he’s cataloging it. Memorizing every feature. Or trying not to.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” His mouth curves, but there’s nothing playful about it. “You’ve got housing offers. Breakfast plans. Busy schedule.” His eyes hold mine like he’s waiting for me to contradict him. Like maybe he wants me to. “Seems like you’re set.”
But that’s the thing with Will. I’ve never been able to read him like he can me. I never know what he wants. And I hate that I suddenly want to. Because right now, it seems like he’s already bracing himself for me to walk out the door and not come back.
And if that’s true, I don’t know what changed.
Or if I imagined it all.
I open my mouth, but I don’t even know what to say, so I let the answer fade. “I, um, thank you again. For…dinner last night. And for letting me stay here. I know you hate it, and I really am trying to find a place soon.”
His eyes scan the space near me without really looking at me. “I don’t hate it.” His gaze flicks to my mouth before snapping to my eyes. “Not as much as I probably should.” His voice drops on the last word. Heavy. Honest.
The sentence lands somewhere deep in my chest, and suddenly, the distance between us feels small enough to close.
He watches me for another beat, like we’re both waiting for the other to say something else.
His eyes fall back to his eggs. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?
There’s leftover pizza. You should eat.”
“I thought you didn’t care.”
Something in his expression changes.
“Do you want me to care?” He steps closer, abandoning his breakfast. Just half a step. Then three more. He’s close enough I can smell the cedar shampoo from his shower, and his saltwater cologne, but still not close enough to touch.
He moves forward again. My foot slides without warning or thought before my brain can catch up to the risk. As if we’re magnets being dragged together.
He stops when there’s barely a breath of space between us. Close enough that if either of us exhales, we might touch.
His eyes drop to my mouth. For once, he doesn’t look away.
“I—” My phone vibrates in my palm. When I glance down, there’s a text from Cory.
Would it be weird if I asked to take you out? Like a date?
Will watches my face change. His jaw tics once. Twice.
“Good news?” he asks, his voice flat. When I don’t say anything, he retreats. The shift is immediate. The wall that has always separated us—the wall that has always been my favorite accessory—slams back into place. In seconds, he’s back at the stove like nothing happened.
I close out of the text, my whole world standing on its head. “I…”
“Tell your mom I said hi. And Banks, too, if you’re seeing him today. Bringing him home to meet the fam for a Saturday breakfast. I’m sure he’ll be relieved when you finally have your own place.”
His words sting.
“For all that boring teacher sex?” It slips out of me, angry and bitter. I’d almost forgotten the memory was still there, lingering. All those years ago. Those stupid words. His stupid eyes.
And now, this man stands in front of me. So different, and yet so familiar.
Will’s gaze flashes toward me, sharp and unsettled. Something unguarded flickers there. The same hunger in older eyes. Like he can’t believe I remembered either. And then, because I’m scared of where this might go—and I don’t trust myself alone with him right now—I open the door and walk away.