Chapter 4
DANNY’S PRESENCE IS BARELY A BLUR IN THE BACKGROUND as my brain struggles to slam the brakes on the multiple scenarios flooding my mind.
Cerys being back at Westbrook changes everything.
Not only because it means I have another person to worry about when there’s a killer threatening us, but also because it gives a motive.
She has become a pariah in this place, constantly linked to and blamed for last year’s dreadful event.
While I don’t understand why the killer wants us back, I can tell it’s a bad omen. Cerys’ return to Westbrook is a guarantee of upcoming chaos and trouble. But I’m missing a big chunk of the motive. Is this all related to Brian and Cerys, or is there another reason?
Blinking rapidly, physically forcing the thoughts to back away from the front of my brain, I focus on Danny. His shoulders are rigid as he observes me, the slight squint of his eyes showing his concern.
“When did she get here?” I ask, holding on to his wrist. I don’t bother hiding the demanding undertone as my fingers tighten their grip.
I need to know the details of her arrival because it might give me the information I need to put the puzzle together.
Focusing on the mystery is easier than sitting with what’s truly bothering me.
She never told me any of this. “Why would she come back to this place?”
Why didn’t she tell me? I want to add, but the words die on the tip of my tongue. I can guess why, and it’s itching under my skin. This is what I’m struggling with, because the truth is more painful than I’m willing to admit. Though painful might not be the correct word to describe it.
Embarrassing.
Yes, it’s embarrassing how terrible I’ve been at keeping in touch with everyone from this place.
I’ve never been good at letting people take care of me.
It’s always easier for me to hide what I’m feeling than relying on my friends.
The last time Cerys and I spoke was a few weeks ago when she called me.
Guilt gnaws on my bones. I should’ve tried harder to prevent my life in LA from overcrowding my time.
After everything we went through together last year, everything she went through alone, it’s the least I could’ve done for her.
But it was easier to let the city consume me and make me forget every awful thing that happened in this place.
All the mistreatment Cerys endured—and me by association—the constant fighting to prove her innocence, her final breakdown before she decided to leave.
To forget my friendship with Cerys, and the kiss with Danny, ever happened.
It was all too much.
But it still hurts to know she didn’t trust me.
There’s a painful and bitter realization coating the surface of my tongue.
While I’ve been happier and thriving in LA, I miss the friendships I had here.
I miss hanging out with Cerys and being her biggest confidante.
She was pure light and joy, and I was her shadow.
I liked having that contrast in our friendship.
My sister has been miles away from me, constantly ignoring me.
And Danny . . . I don’t even want to think about what I lost with him.
It all makes me too aware of the fact that I’ve been lonely.
It stings deep in my soul.
Instinctively, wanting to protect myself from becoming too vulnerable, I drop my gaze to the ground. I bite the inside of my cheek, hard enough to taste blood.
“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” Danny determines.
I’m taken aback by the decisiveness in his voice. How can he be so sure of what I’m thinking and his conviction to prove me otherwise? He has no idea.
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
I recoil defensively, crossing my arms over my stomach, almost building a shield around me. A part of me needs to physically put a barrier between us, to feel like I’m being protected and not attacked.
Danny arches a brow and steps closer to me.
My breath almost hitches, and I hold it in to prevent smelling his cologne. Danny’s fingers find their way to my chin again. Although his touch is soft and lingering, it carries enough strength to force me to stare deep into his warm and caring eyes.
Inevitably, my insides start to melt, debilitating my knees, but I stand with straight shoulders and my arms firmly in place around me. Maybe if I stay still enough, I’ll be able to remain unaffected by him.
“You don’t think I can read you?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.
“We might not talk to each other, but you’re as expressive as you were when we were close friends.
Whenever you’re having a bad train of thought or dislike something, you show it here,” he points out, softly pressing his index finger between my brows where my forehead is wrinkled.
His touch smooths it with a caress before it travels to the edge of my mouth, near the corner of my lips. “And here too.”
My throat goes dry. I’m unable to swallow or utter any words to contradict what he’s saying.
I’m too caught up by the fact that he’s touching me this freely, as if he knew exactly what it took to disarm me with just one touch.
How can he know my body so well, and still reject me? Am I being delusional again?
Too many thoughts cloud my brain. The scent of his cologne overpowers my senses with how close he is.
It’s not the first time he’s been this close—he’s hugged me before—but it’s the first time since the kiss. I don’t know if he has realized that I can feel the warmth of his breath brushing my face. I can barely contain the way my heart speeds up.
“Daniel . . .” His name spills from my lips in a featherlight whisper, almost hoping to lure him back to me like a desperate siren trying to keep him under a spell.
But the moment has passed. He clears his throat and pulls back, as if he caught himself touching a display item that has a Do not touch sign next to it. His hand drops to his side as he shakes his head like he’s snapping out of the moment. He scratches the back of his neck again.
He’s nervous.
His lips tremble ever so slightly as he struggles to find the words.
“I . . . I went to find her after the police did nothing with my claim, and she had just received her letter. I would’ve tried to find you, but . . .”
He lets the rest of his statement linger in the air between us.
The atmosphere grows thick and heavy, making it harder to breathe in the closeness of the pool house.
I know exactly what he means by his silence.
It’s louder than screams. We weren’t on speaking terms. We’re no longer friends.
He inferred it before, but it stings to have the confirmation so out in the open when, for a moment, I forgot about it.
His touch has a powerful effect on me. I grow weak.
“Right,” I say curtly. Before things can continue getting even more awkward and stiff, I choose to guide the topic back to our immediate concern. The reason we’re here in the first place. “What did her letter say? Do you have it?”
His face contorts into a grimace. “I have a photo,” he says reluctantly, and in his eyes I see a silent plea to let the topic drop.
“Show me.”
“It’s a little disturbing.”
“Show me,” I demand again, extending my hand.
With a sigh, Danny reaches for his phone and taps on the screen until he produces the photo of the letter. He gently drops the phone in my palm, and I turn it over to examine it. The overview is simple, but there’s something different about this one.
Unlike the others, it’s not a candid shot.
It’s not a personal picture either. No, this one is cut out straight from the yearbook Kappa does at the end of the school year, specifically the one from when we were in junior year.
The photo was taken at a rush party. In it, I’m standing next to Cerys and Bethan.
Sitting on the floor, Carmen is in front of me, her dazzling smile immediately catching my attention.
She was barely a potential new member there.
We all look extremely different than we do now—happier, more innocent.
I would smile at the memory if it weren’t for the daunting detail that made Danny hesitant to show it to me.
Everyone’s eyes are crossed out, but Cerys’ eyes are completely cut out from the photograph. We all look hollow inside. It looks like a prop made for a weird movie about a cult or something. It’s creepy. There’s no other way to put it.
A shiver runs down my spine.
“Every death will be your fault if you don’t return.” I read out loud the message scribbled in the corner.
My stomach constricts.
Everyone else’s letters were cryptic and threatening without crossing the line of graphic.
But they took liberties with Cerys. Probably because she has already received so much hate in the past that it wouldn’t have been taken seriously if it didn’t stand out from the sea of abuse she got last year after Brian’s death.
“Now you know why she came back,” he states.
“This is crazy.”
I give him the phone back, unable to stare at it any longer.
“I didn’t want her to, but there was no stopping her. You know Cerys better than anyone. It doesn’t matter how much they hated her here, she would rather die than let anyone be harmed. So, I figured it was better if I came here with her.”
I nod, understanding his point. Cerys might be a pariah in Westbrook, but she could easily become a martyr.
“Someone has to have her back. She’s too good for any of this to be happening.”
“Yes, she is,” he confirms.
Although Cerys has been pushed around and dragged through the mud, her heart is admirable and kind.
It doesn’t matter how much everyone in that photo mistreated her, she wouldn’t let anyone come to harm if she could help it.
I understand her reasoning, even if I don’t share it.
I’ve always been more selfish than she could ever be.
Hell, if it hadn’t been because someone threatened Carmen, I wouldn’t be caught dead in this place.
If I were Cerys, I wouldn’t let myself be affected by it.
But I get why she is. It’s in her nature.
Yet it doesn’t help ease the terror crawling under my skin.
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
Danny rubs his palms together anxiously.
“Best case scenario, nothing happens, and we just spend our night at a party.” He puts it in simple terms, offering me a tight-lipped smile.
I roll my eyes.
His enthusiasm is as fake as mine, but I appreciate it because it almost makes me laugh. It’s possible we’re both being delusional in this. I doubt it, but there’s always a possibility.
“Worst case scenario, we all die because we couldn’t do the smart thing,” I retort with a huff.
“And what is the smart thing?”
“Run away before danger materializes.”
“You’re the horror movie connoisseur,” he says. “Does running away ever work out?”
I sigh. “No. We would get murdered on a lonely road. One of us might survive if they made it until dawn. Severely maimed, though.”
He looks at his watch. “Considering it’s barely past noon, there’s not a lot of hope for us.”
“Definitely not.”
A sigh escapes him. He sounds defeated. His shoulders deflate, almost making him appear shorter. The joke is over. Time to return to our reality, as skewed as it is.
“What are you going to do?”
I wish I could say I’m hopping on a plane and getting the hell away from here as soon as possible, but Carmen isn’t buying my fear. Since she won’t be going anywhere, there’s nowhere else I can be.
“What do you think I should do?”
“Not die on a lonely road,” he responds, his tone jokey, although there’s a crease at the corner of his mouth that lets me know there’s actual concern behind his words.
The way he phrases it makes me smile.
He doesn’t think I should leave. Temptation curls into my veins, almost pushing me to ask if he wants me to. There’s a difference between him thinking I should stay and him wanting me to. The weakest part of me hopes for the latter.
I swallow the question and say instead, “Is that so?”
“The alternative is surviving severely maimed.”
A snort escapes past my defenses. My heart aches. Ay, I’ve missed him.
“Sounds like we’ll be going to that party, then.”