Chapter Eleven #2
Dad finally comes home right before dinner, just long enough to exist in the same house.
The new chef, Miss Angel, makes my favorite—shrimp alfredo—which only twists the knife because he still remembers details, just not me.
We eat like always, in stiff, polished silence, our forks the only conversation between us.
He excuses himself without saying a single word to me.
Once I’ve finished, I wander the halls, too restless to sit still.
I stop when I hear Dad’s voice leaking out from his study.
“I found another partner for the Cicada program,” he says.
“She says she knows where to find what we need and plenty of them.” I freeze, breath caught in my throat. Who is he talking about?
Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, I sprint for the stairs.
My heart hammers as I hit the landing and force myself to slow to a brisk walk, heading for my room like I hadn’t just been eavesdropping on something I shouldn’t have heard.
I close my door, twist the lock, and grab my phone.
Turning on my VPN, I pull up an incognito tab.
My fingers fly over the screen as I type in two words: Cicada program.
Whatever dad is mixed up in, I need to know what the hell it is before it swallows me whole, too.
Lila shaking my shoulder jerks me out of the hold the nightmare had on me.
“Kiera, you’re fucking kicking me in your sleep.
” I blink, disoriented, eyes darting around the dim room, expecting to see my dad’s study door instead of my own ceiling.
“You okay?” she asks, her voice is softer now, the irritation edged with worry.
Sitting up, I stretch until my spine pops. “Yeah, I was dreaming about one of the days you came over when we were kids. Before the whole Asher fiasco.”
“I wish I could go back and not say shit about him. Let bitchy Ashley have him. Maybe then it never would have happened.” Lila sighs, then pushes her hair out of her face as she sits up beside me. “Ready to grab coffee and head to Mr. Whitley?”
“Can we do 7brew today? I’d rather not run into Sterling today.” I ask, already heading for my closet. I slide on a pair of leggings, a black band tee, and my battered Converse.
“Sure! I love their espresso there.” Lila dives into my dresser, yanking out clothes. Good thing we are the same size. She tugs on her Vans and skips down the hallway. “Let’s go!”
Grabbing my keys, we make our way to the parking garage and climb into my car.
Lila immediately hijacks the radio, queuing up her current obsession.
Look Who’s Cryin’ Now by Jessie Murph fills the speakers as I back out of my parking spot.
“Do we really need to listen to this again?” I ask, shooting her a sideways look.
“Um, yeah! Have you heard this girl sing?” Lila giggles, cranking the volume up a notch as if that settles it.
“Yep, like 57 times this month,” I mutter as I pull onto the road and head straight for 7brew.
We roll through the drive thru, I rattle off our usuals, pay, and pull away.
The first swallow of Golden Pear energy fizzes across my tongue, bright and syrupy, almost indecent, and a little hum slips out of me before I can stop it.
Lila inhales the last of her espresso. “Are we going to this gala tomorrow? Because we will need dresses.”
“Yes, we are. There’s a mystery guest. Dad won’t even tell me who it is,” I say as I pull into a parking spot.
We climb out of the car and push through the door of the floral shop, the bell chiming overhead.
Mr. Whitley is standing behind the counter with Mrs. Whitley, both looking up as we step inside, the familiar mix of greenery and blooms wrapping around us like a hug.
“Oh, Kiera! And Lila! How are you, darlings?” Mrs. Whitley bustles out from behind the counter and gathers us both into a floral-scented hug. “You girls are too thin! Come by the house, and I’ll whip you up some food,” she scolds, lovingly patting my cheek.
Mr. Whitley comes over to hug us as well. “Yes, come see us more. We miss you, girls.” Lila and I both nod, a spark of warmth tugs at me. “So,” he pulls back smiling, “what flowers do you need?”
“Can you get Black Beauty peonies on short notice? And some Duchesse De Nemours? Preferably ones that double bloom.” It’ll be a massacre dressed in petals. “If not, if we can at least get the Black Beauties, we can use white roses instead.”
Mr. Whitley moves to the shop’s computer, tapping a few keys to check inventory. “Lucky for you, I have a friend who has enough stock to cover everything you need.”
Kissing him on the cheek, I grin. “Thank you, you’re the best. Just charge it to Dad’s account.
” After a few more minutes spent finalizing the arrangements and catching up, we say our goodbyes and head back to the car.
“Want to go find a dress? This event is going to be a big one for my dad.” I give her a knowing look.
“Fuck yes!” Lila practically shouts as I pull out and head toward the dress shop.
Pulling into a spot right by the door, I can see the girl from last time—Brittney—behind the counter. As we step inside, she looks up with a bright smile. “Hi, ladies. How can I help you today?”
“We need a dress for a Hawthorne charity auction event tomorrow,” Lila replies, already thumbing through a nearby rack of gowns, fabrics whispering against her fingers.
“Sure thing, do you have any dresses in mind?” Brittney steps out from behind the counter, motioning for us to follow.
“We have a great selection in the back.” She opens the door to a massive room lined wall-to-wall with dresses, circular racks crowding the center.
Fabrics of every kind and color blur together in a shimmering haze.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” she says with a smile.
“Let me know if you find anything you like.”
Lila and I start shuffling through the dresses, fabrics calling out to us with every hanger we slide aside.
I already know I want a black dress, so I drift toward that section, drawn like a moth to the flame.
As I’m shifting through a row of gowns, something at the edge of my vision snags my attention.
On the far wall hangs a mermaid-style, spaghetti-strap dress with a plunging neckline.
Up close, it’s even better: a white silk slip beneath black lace that spills into red flowers, the pattern making it look like blood is dripping from the hem.
The slit is steep enough to hit the top of my thigh, the perfect dress for the kind of evening that’s about to unfold.
Finding Lila lingering by the pink dresses, “Have you found your dress?”
She smiles. “I did. You?”
“I did. I’m going to go grab Brittney and let her know we’re ready to try them on.” I head toward the front, spotting her by the desk. “Hi, we think we found a few to try on.” Brittney nods and follows me back into the room. I motioned to the dress by the window. “I’d like this one, please.”
Lila pulls a dress from the rack. “And this one for me.” She holds up an iridescent gown washed in deep pinks, dark purples, and blues so rich they almost look black, the colors shifting like oil on water.
It’s strapless with a small train that will pool dramatically at her feet.
It’s the kind of dress that demands attention—just like her.
Brittney gathers the two dresses, and we trail her back into the same fitting room as last time.
She gets us set up, runs through the same spiel as before, then leaves us alone.
I slip around the partition, undress, and ease myself into the gown.
Once I get the zipper up, I take one last, steadying look in the mirror. “Ready?”
“Yup, coming out now,” Lila hollers. We meet in the middle of the room. She gives me a once-over and lets out a low whistle. “Girl, you’re dressed to kill.”
“Oh, you know this event is to die for.” I twirl, letting the dress flare. “You look fucking unreal. Are you trolling for dick or collecting worship tonight?” I laugh as she smacks my arm.
“Kiera Rayne Hawthorne, I would never do such a thing!” Lila protests, but the sinful little smirk she gives me tells me otherwise. Seems like she has her own plans for tomorrow. “Come on,” she adds, eyes still glinting. “Let’s get out of these things and go see Sarah.”
I nod and change back into my leggings and shirt.
Once everything’s back where it belongs, we carry the gowns up to Brittney.
“Can you place these on the Hawthorne tab?” She smiles, rings them up, and slides a slip of paper toward me to sign.
Quickly signing, we load the dresses into the back of my car, and I slide behind the wheel.
As we pull away and head toward the cafe, I cut Lila a sideways look.
“Okay, so here’s your fair warning,” I say, pausing for a beat.
I don’t want her in the middle of it, but I need her ready.
“During my speech tomorrow, a video is going to play. I need you to act surprised.”
“Understood.” We pull into a parking spot at the cafe, and Lila’s already hopping out before I can even put it in park. “Let’s go, Ki!”
The bell over the door rings as we step into the cafe. Sarah glances up, spotting us, and waves. We weave our way to our usual table in the back, searching the tables as I go. “I’ll be right there, girls,” she calls with a smile as she finishes checking out the customer in front of her.
A loud ping comes from the purses we dropped between us on the seat. Lila snatches hers first. “Not me,” she says, glancing at the screen. I fish out my phone and see a text from Sterling.
Stalker: I see you looking for me.
My eyes shoot up, scanning the cafe again for blue eyes that are quickly becoming my favorite. When I don’t spot him anywhere, a frown tugs at my mouth, and I drop my gaze back to the screen, thumbs already flying as I fire off a reply.
Me: You just going to keep haunting me from