45. Scarlett
Scarlett
Z eke blew past us, storming out the door without a word. Sloane and Lena slipped upstairs to change for the lake, leaving me in the quiet that followed.
I didn’t mean to hear it.
Didn’t mean to press my ear to the door like I was six again, listening to my parents fight through the door. But once I heard my name—once I heard Trace’s voice—I couldn’t move.
And then I couldn’t breathe.
“She’s not ready.”
“She’s the reason all this is happening.”
“You love her.”
“So do I.”
Every word felt like it had claws.
I stood there for god knows how long. Long enough to feel cold. Long enough to hate every fucking second I’d spent in that shower thinking Trace was different.
He wasn’t.
None of them were.
I walked into the house like my bones were on fire.
They looked up at me like I was a ghost.
“What the actual fuck is going on?” I asked.
No one answered.
So I laughed. Not the cute kind. The fuck-you-all kind.
“This was supposed to be my birthday weekend, remember? Wine, lake, friends, maybe a little drama—but not whatever the hell this is.”
Trace took a step toward me, but I held up my hand.
“Don’t. Don’t do that thing where you get quiet and stare at me like you’re hurting. I don’t care.”
Alden’s jaw twitched. “Scar—”
“No,” I snapped. “You don’t get to ‘Scar’ me right now. Not when you’ve all clearly been keeping some secret under wraps like I’m too fragile to handle it.”
I looked at Kane. “What, you too? You gonna tell me this is all just a coincidence?”
He didn’t speak.
Rhett looked away.
God, I wanted to fucking break something.
“I trusted you,” I said, eyes locking on Trace. “You act like I’m your friend—your best friend. You all are my safe place, but I don’t feel safe with any of you anymore.”
“You are,” he said, voice low.
“No. I’m fucking not ,” I hissed. “Because whatever this is—it was never about me, was it? It was about what I am. Or what I don’t know I am. Isn’t that right?”
He didn’t answer. And that was worse than any lie.
The ground shifted under me, something snapping.
“I hate all of you,” I whispered.
And I meant it.
For now.
***
I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I had to move.
I walked out the door, heart pounding, eyes burning. The house was too full of secrets and silence, and I couldn’t breathe inside it anymore.
The gravel bit into my soles, sharp and unrelenting. But I welcomed it. I wanted to feel something that made sense. Something sharp and simple.
The dock came into view. The lake still, pretending nothing had changed.
But everything had.
I didn’t notice him at first—not until I was halfway down the wooden planks, my hands shaking, breath uneven.
The man from the car.
He was sitting on the edge of the dock, legs stretched out, a cigarette between his fingers.
“Rough morning?” he asked, voice lazy, low.
I stopped walking. “What are you doing out here?”
He took a drag, exhaled slow. “Watching.”
“Watching what?”
He looked over his shoulder at me, eyes dragging down my legs, lingering. Not in a gross way—but in a way that made me want to wrap my arms around myself. Like I was a puzzle he’d already solved.
“You.”
My chest tightened. “Why?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette into the lake and rose to his feet with a slow stretch.
“You really don’t know, do you?” he asked, stepping closer.
“Know what?” I snapped.
He tilted his head. “Everything.”
I folded my arms, trying to keep my voice steady. “If you’re just here to fuck with me—don’t. I’ve had enough of that from everyone else.”
“I’m not the one lying to you,” he said. “They are.”
My pulse ticked hard. “What do you mean?”
He watched me for a long beat, like he was measuring out how much to say. “They’re not here for fun, sweetheart. You think this is a vacation? A birthday trip? It’s a fucking stakeout.”
I blinked. “Why?”
He stepped even closer, lowering his voice. “Because you’ve got them wrapped around your finger.”
I stiffened. “That’s not—”
“Don’t lie. Not to me,” he cut in. Voice sharper now. “You sleeping with them? Both of them?”
My mouth dropped open. “Fuck you.”
He grinned. “That’s a yes.”
I stepped back automatically. His smile didn’t shift. He didn’t follow.
“They think they’re protecting you. Maybe they are. But the truth?” He lowered his voice. “You’ve got no idea what you’re in the middle of. No clue who you really are.”
I swallowed. “Then tell me.”
He just smiled again—crooked, knowing.
“You ever wonder why they’d burn the world down for you?”
That one hit somewhere deep.
He turned without another word, cigarette trailing smoke like a fuse.
“Start wondering.”