Chapter 17 – Beau
BEAU
“ I can’t believe my son went to Italy without telling me!” Mama’s voice echoes her disappointment into my voicemail. “Giulia could have met you and shown you her town. Call me back, tesoro. We need to schedule another dinner.”
Sighing, I press “delete.” I can’t avoid Mama forever, but I can move her to the back burner for now.
I have more important things to deal with.
Coming home from Italy was brutal. After those days of total freedom, coming home felt like a cage snapping shut. I had to go back to pretending, back to hiding things from my family and my friends, back to pretending I didn’t say I love you.
The last one has been the hardest. How do you act like your heart isn’t cracked down the middle? How do you text with your friends and joke around when you said I love you and she didn’t say it back?
I allowed myself one night to crawl under the covers and mope. One night to eat ice cream in bed, avoid every message on my phone, and watch The Notebook so I can pretend that’s the reason I’m crying.
Now, it’s the morning, and it’s time to face the music. With trepidation burning a hole in my chest, I open my group chat with the guys. I’ve missed hundreds of messages, and to my horror, most of them are about Peppermint.
Nate
My security team just finished the metadata they were able to gather from the Peppermint’s posts and photos. Peppermint managed to scrub most of it, but there were enough data that they missed that we were able to get a general idea.
Ryan
Is Peppermint in the house with me right now? Is this a Ghostface scenario?
Nate
Not to scare you, but possibly. Peppermint publishes from somewhere in a thirty-block radius around the House of Cards.
Luke
Well, that doesn’t narrow it down much.
Nate
It’s enough to rule out people in most of the suburbs.
James
If the metadata is even accurate.
Ryan
Don’t be such a party pooper. It confirms what I’ve been working on.
Nate
That song you’ve been writing about the handsomeness of your own face?
Ryan
I mean the OTHER thing I’ve been working on.
I’ve been cross-referencing Peppermint’s posts with the actual events, what time they were posted, and any people who knew about our secrets.
I’ve concluded that it’s got to be someone with contacts in our inner circle.
It’s also someone who’s had more access to us in the past few years.
A lot of the early posts about us were tips from readers.
The ones about our relationships—about me and Pippa, especially—it would have to be someone we know very well.
Nate
Who does Pippa spill her secrets to?
Ryan
She keeps it tight. Just Cat, Maura, and Brinley.
My stomach feels heavy with dread. It’s the first time Brinley’s name has been mentioned in a Peppermint conversation. No one has even come close to accusing her, but it feels like a bad omen. A reminder that it’s only a matter of time.
Brinley’s not the only person to get called out in the messages.
Luke
@Beau where are you, man? I know you’re on your pilgrimage, but we’re making moves on this.
@Beau, did you catch up with the chat yet?
@Beau, what do you think? Please weigh in.
Ryan
I think he got eaten by a flying spaghetti monster.
Luke
Hope not. I want his opinion before we move forward.
Shit. I missed all Luke’s messages, because I was in a villa on the Italian coast with the person they’re hunting.
Without me there to steer conversations away from Brinley and throw out red herrings, the guys made real headway. Every message I scroll past hammers home how much ground I lost by leaving. Three days of freedom with Brinley may have cost us everything.
I have to reply eventually, but I have no idea how to lead them any further away right now.
Beau
Damn, you guys made a ton of progress.
Luke
He lives!!! Come meet me in the gym if you’re home, I’ll catch you up.
I rake my hands over my face. I wasn’t planning on going to the gym this morning, but maybe it’s good.
I can take Luke’s temperature on the Peppermint hunt without the other guys there to poke holes in my theories when I try and direct him away from Brinley.
I drag myself out of bed and mindlessly put on the first workout clothes I grab from my dresser.
It’s not until I’m already in the elevator that I realize I’m wearing one of Ryan’s poker merch shirts, with his smiling face plastered across the front.
“Thanks for the moral support, Ry,” I tell him.
Down in the gym, I find Luke lying on a weight bench, doing chest presses. He grins when he sees me. “Hey, man! Feeling refreshed after your big trip?”
“Not really. Jet lag.”
“It’s the worst. But I think I’ve got some news that’ll perk you up.”
“Oh yeah?” I grab some dumbbells and set them on the floor by the next bench. “What’s happening?”
“We think we found Peppermint’s fanfiction account.”
“What?” I burst out laughing. “What the hell? How did you find that? And how’s it even helpful?”
“Hear me out. I found this guy who traces verbal patterns with large language learning models. He’s been running all of Peppermint’s articles through his program, trying to find stylistic matches.
He told me not to be too hopeful, because the Internet’s a big place, and we might not find any matches. But last night, he had a breakthrough.”
“A fanfiction breakthrough,” I say dryly.
“Exactly. This account, Nightingale99, published a bunch of Hunger Games fanfiction ten years ago that closely matches Peppermint’s style.”
I grin. I have no doubt that Nightingale99 is Brinley. She would have spent her preteen years scribbling stories about her favorite book series. Frankly, it’s adorable. I can’t wait to tease her about it later. I doubt Luke will be able to connect those dots, though.
“And how does that help us exactly?” I ask.
“It gives us a general age range. The writing style is more juvenile then, like someone in junior high or early high school. That puts Peppermint in their mid-20s. If that’s true, we can cross a whole lot of names off our suspect list.”
Shit. The fanfic stuff was funny at first, but it actually brings Luke uncomfortably close to narrowing in on Brinley. I’ve got to shut it down.
“I don’t know. I feel like you’re reading too much into this. I mean, how do we know Peppermint was in junior high? What if they’re just a really shitty fanfic writer?”
“The age range checks out for other reasons,” Luke argues. “It makes sense that someone who’s not that much younger than us would be writing this. Someone who’s our peer.”
“Maybe you’re right, but maybe we wipe the real Peppermint’s name off our list because of a hunch.”
Luke’s eyes narrow. “Do you want to catch Peppermint or not?”
“Of course I do!”
“Well, you’re not acting like it. You’re barely responding in the group chat, and you shut down any idea I have.
I know it’s not your sex life that went viral, but it would mean a lot to me if you pretended to take it seriously.
” His cheeks are red, his eyes bright with anger.
Guilt pounds through my veins, reminding me what a piece of shit I am for keeping so many secrets from him.
“Of course I take it seriously, Luke. I’ve been distracted with my trip and my own bullshit, I guess. I’m sorry.”
Luke just stands and puts his weights back on the rack. “It’s fine,” he mutters. “We’ll catch up when you get over your jet lag. Have a good workout.”
He waves and walks over to the elevator, leaving me alone in the gym. I groan and lie back on the weight bench. Luke’s obviously still annoyed with me, and I don’t blame him. He might not know that I’ve been sabotaging the Peppermint hunt, but I’m definitely acting like I don’t care.
I grab my phone and open my last texts with Brinley.
Beau
Did you get home okay?
Brinley
Yeah, thanks for asking. You?
Beau
I did. I miss you already. I wish we were back in Italy, drinking wine on the terrace.
Brinley
I wish we were, too.
On the surface, there’s nothing weird about the texts, but they’re off somehow. Sweet, but not playful. Niceties that just point to the things we didn’t say. Neither of us have acknowledged the I love you. It sits in the conversation like a third presence, watching and waiting to intrude.
Neither of us has dared the other to anything in eleven days.
I dare you to call me.
I dare you to come over.
Dare me to say it again.
Dare me to take it back.
Five different drafts I've started and deleted.
I don't know who broke first. I just know we both did.
I close my eyes. I broke a rule and I have no fucking idea what happens now.
The rules were the architecture of our relationship—without them, what are we?
I don’t know if she’s pulling away or gathering courage to say it back or deciding this is over.
I can’t ask her, because asking would mean acknowledging that what I said changed things, and if it changed things then the rules don’t work anymore, and if the rules don’t work then?—
I can’t even finish that thought.
Grabbing my dumbbells off the floor, I have them over my head and start my own chest presses.
I usually do 3 reps of 10. This time, I start lifting and I don’t stop.
I push myself through rep after rep, savoring the alternating pain and shaking weakness in my arms. If Brinley could see me, she’d tell me I’m punishing myself because I’m guilty.
Except this time, it’s not guilt. It’s fear.
Fear that I just lost the only person I can’t afford to lose by telling her the truth.
Fear of what happens when the others learn who she is.