Chapter 44
44
Sonny
P oppy found a way to make it back home for Thanksgiving with a little bit of help from me. It took some finagling, but I managed to budget out my next month without my half of her parent’s allowance.
It doesn’t bother me to go without. It’s what I’m used to. What bothers me is the blind trust she places in a group of strangers who are obviously taking advantage of her. Her silence and vague answers make more sense now, and have only worsened since our argument.
We planned to fly into the same airport on Wednesday with flights landing a few hours apart, then have her parents pick us up at the same time. I was waiting at her gate for three hours, praying to every god out there that she actually followed through with our plans.
Thankfully, she did. But she made sure I was aware of how she felt about it.
Aunt Divina and Uncle Graysen were happy just to have us home. They ordered in a small, intimate dinner for the holiday and peppered us with questions about our time away.
Most of their interest was focused toward Poppy and her time at Ravenshurst. We were supposed to fill each other in when we landed—at least, a few notable details—but Poppy spent the entire time between getting off her plane and waiting for her bags, giving me the cold shoulder. I was so pissed, I ignored her attempts at talking to me the entire car ride home and after dinner that night.
She’s so incredibly selfish. We’re supposed to be doing this thing together . That’s what she promised when she proposed this insanity. I’m the only one who seems to grasp the gravity of what could happen if we’re caught. So, in my own petulant act of payback, I left her to flounder.
Not my best moment, let me tell you.
Every question directed her way was met with a vague response. It got to be so much that she threw her hands in the air in a mock tantrum and insisted they stop talking about school when this was her only time away. I didn’t miss the suspicious look on Divina’s face before they turned their interrogation to me, and I had even less to go off.
Plain and simple: if we don’t get it together before we leave on Sunday, we’re thoroughly fucked.
I’m tired of fighting, anyway. I have so much to share with her. This is the longest we’ve gone without talking or seeing each other, and we’re wasting it.
So, after an insanely awkward dinner where I was essentially ignored by everyone but Uncle Graysen, I decide to tuck away my ego and make my way across the hall.
“Can we table this argument? At least for tonight?” I ask when she whips her door open. My stomach flutters with hopeful butterflies that fall flat when she kicks her hip out, raising a single brow.
“Are you done being petty?” she asks, pursing her lips the same way her mother does.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I blow out a frustrated sigh. “Come on, Poppy. I need to talk to my best friend for a minute. No matter what happens between us, that’s what we’ll always be. Until the world burns, remember?”
I wait as she openly considers me, tapping her fingers against the side of her leg. “Fine, but only because I need my best friend too.”
The door swings open further and she waves me inside.
Falling onto her bed, I lean back on my hands and shake my head. “What a shitshow that was, huh?”
“Everything with them is a shitshow, so I’m not surprised,” she says dismissively, then takes a seat on her vanity stool across the room. “Mom was nosier than usual.”
My voice softens. “They’ve just missed you, Poppy.”
“Well, I haven’t missed this place at all.”
I’d love to ask her what her problem is and point out how lucky she is to have parents who care so much. Reading Finley’s journals has triggered all my old rage over losing my own parents, and it’s harder to stamp down those feelings when she acts this way. Especially when I’ve been on the receiving end of their adoration toward her, and it hasn’t been nearly as terrible as she tries to claim.
Embarrassing, sure. But not terrible.
Instead of screaming at her the way every cell in my body wants to do, I inhale a deep breath, filling my lungs until they ache.
“I hooked up with Doctor Weirdo.” The words tumble from my mouth in a rush.
Poppy’s eyes go wide, her lips slackening from the tight, stubborn line they were stuck in. “You . . . what?”
“It just kind of happened. And then, it . . . it kept happening,” I say with a wince.
“For how long? Why haven’t you told me this?”
“You weren’t answering your phone, and there was always something else to talk about when you did.”
She scowls. “Oh, like that dead kid’s journals? I would have much preferred this news.”
Something about that rubs me the wrong way. In fact, everything about her lately has been rubbing me the wrong way. It seems the only way we can get through a conversation anymore is if I swallow down my true thoughts.
“What about you? I’ve hardly heard about Costa Rica.” My tone is accusatory, my voice rising on the last word.
This is just a phase. It’s a small rough patch in a long, devoted friendship.
I have to remember that.
“Much less eventful than Ravenshurst, it seems,” she scoffs. “What could have possessed you to hook up with a man who you thought was a serial killer?”
I hold my finger up. “Well, about that . . . ”
Poppy sucks in a breath. “Sonny!” she practically shrieks. “You did not.”
“There are some rumblings about him being dangerous, but I truly think he’s misunderstood,” I defend in a rush.
Poppy shakes her head, wide eyes staring at me like she’s ready to commit me to a psych ward for my own safety. “Well, you know you have to tell me all about it now.”
I giggle, sticking my tongue out and kicking my feet in the air before launching into all the details I’ve been dying to share. The tension between us slowly fades away as we settle back into our usual banter.
“It looks like you channeled me a little too well ,” she jokes with a cringe face when I’m finished with my word vomit.
I lean back against her headboard and cross one leg over the other. “Tell me about Costa Rica. For real, this time. How do you like it?”
Within one blink, Poppy deflates. Her posture slumps, shoulders pulling forward and hands tightening into fists. For an empath, she is horrendous at hiding her own emotions.
“It’s fun. Lots of work.” She keeps her eyes cast down, focused on twirling a string from her comforter through her fingers.
I wait for her to add more, but it’s clear that’s all she has to say about it. Which is odd for someone like Poppy, who can hardly stop talking about the most menial things.
She’s hiding something—plain and simple.
I suspected it before, in our very limited talk about her situation. The way she allowed me to monopolize conversations, then quickly signed off when it was her turn to share. I went along with it, too distracted by whatever I was going through to dedicate the energy it would take to pull some information out of her.
“I bet it is. Do you get along with your group?” I try again, overcorrecting. My voice raises an octave too high, and it sounds more like I’m speaking to a toddler than a grown woman.
She raises a suspicious brow and shrugs. The motion causes the collar of her shirt to fall, revealing a very bony shoulder and collarbone. I noticed some hollowness on her face earlier. That her shirt draped across her body a bit more than usual.
But this is far worse. She has to have lost at least fifteen pounds since I saw her last.
Following my widened gaze, she quickly pulls it back up, shifting uncomfortably away from me.
“We get along well enough. You sound like my mom, trying to fish for information,” she sneers defensively.
“I’m just making conversation.” I sigh. Every fiber of my being wants to push for more.
Why is she being so evasive? Why does she look so frail? What is going on down there?
Instead of prying, I stamp down all my concern temporarily and force a smile. “Let’s talk about something else then.”
“I’m still tired from the flight. Raincheck?” She even fakes a yawn.
Pushing my lips to the side, I nod. “Sure. No problem.”
“I promise. We’ll talk more tomorrow,” she adds.
“Sounds good.”
She watches quietly as I take my time scooting off her bed and padding over to the door. It’s awkward and cringe, but I’m hoping that if I linger long enough, she’ll change her mind and this alternate version of her will disappear.
Of course, that doesn’t happen. We mumble a quick goodnight and I disappear behind her door.
When I step out of her room, Divina is leaning against the wall beside my bedroom, waiting for me.
“I’m just going to bed,” I tell her, pointing toward my closed door.
She pushes off the wall and closes the distance between us with a couple of steps. “This will be quick.”
“Ookay,” I drawl. Dread coats my stomach like molten lava. Divina never speaks to me one-on-one. In fact, it’s rare she bothers to speak to me directly, if at all.
She crosses her arms over her chest, widening her stance. “Poppy is deteriorating before my eyes. I’m not sure what is going on between you two, but I promise, it won’t be good if I find out you’ve somehow put my daughter in harm’s way.”
Straightening my shoulders, I lift my chin. I won’t be cowering for her anymore. Not after I’ve exposed so many of her secrets. “I have nothing to do with how Poppy is taking care of herself.”
A smirk pulls at the side of her mouth, her brow quirking up in excitement at the challenge I’m posing. Divina has never been one to back down from her opponents. “We’ll see about that,” she snarks, then turns and walks away down the stairs.
I stand there for a moment, staring at Poppy’s door and contemplating if I should tell her what just happened. This isn’t going to work for much longer. Not if Poppy continues to go off script. She needs to know how much she’s jeopardizing things.
But we said we’ll talk tomorrow, and I don’t want to push her further away.
I’ll bring it up then.