Chapter 14
“Bill’s dead?” Ricky asked again.
I nodded, my throat too tight to trust my voice. The image was still lodged behind my eyes, refusing to blur or soften. I wrapped my arms around myself, only then realizing I was shaking.
Jake stood a few feet away. “What do you mean, ‘dead’?” His tone was calm, curious even.
“There was an axe,” I said. “In his chest.”
Jake blinked once. “An axe?”
“Yes.”
He dragged a hand through his hair, then rubbed at his temple, slow and deliberate, like he was buying himself time. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
Ricky barked out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Jump to conclusions? Blair just said there was an axe in his chest.”
“I heard her,” Jake continued. “But maybe he slipped or fell while carrying it. He’s pretty old and the ground’s icy.”
“No.” The word came out harsher than I meant it to, but I didn’t take it back. “He didn’t slip. This wasn’t some accident, and I don’t think Maddie’s death was either.”
“Right,” Jake said. “So now none of it was real. Not the fact that Maddie wandered off and Noah fell apart afterward.” He shook his head. “You’re rewriting everything after the fact, Blair.”
“I’m not rewriting anything,” I said. “I’m saying the pieces don’t fit.”
“They fit just fine,” he argued. “They just don’t fit the version you want.”
The way he said want made my stomach turn. He wasn’t talking about our friends’ deaths. He was talking about us, which I found so unnerving given the timing and the situation we were in.
Ricky shifted beside me. “Blair . . . Noah was a wreck. You saw him. He couldn’t even speak without breaking down.”
“That doesn’t mean he’d . . .” My voice caught, but I forced it steady. “That doesn’t mean he’d do that to himself.”
Jake leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “This is what you always do, isn’t it, Blair?” His tone was so gentle, it came off as condescending.
I went still.
“When things get hard,” he continued, “you decide there has to be a bigger reason. A villain. A pattern. You always need someone or something to blame.”
My chest tightened.
“You’re exhausted,” he said. “You haven’t slept. You’ve been spiraling since the breakup. And now you’re seeing things that just aren’t there.”
He met my eyes. “If you keep pushing things like this, no one’s going to believe you.”
Something cold slid into place. This wasn’t concern. This was strategy. He was reframing the moment, reframing me—until my instincts sounded like hysteria and my certainty looked like instability. If he could make me the unreliable one, then nothing I said would matter.
“Don’t you fucking dare do that,” I said, my teeth grinding together.
“Do what?” he asked mildly. “Point out reality?”
Ricky rubbed his face. “I’m not saying Blair’s wrong, but people do things you wouldn’t expect when they’re grieving.”
“Can’t you two see what’s happening here?” I said, my voice rising despite myself.
My gaze flicked between them, refocusing on the details I couldn’t unsee—the dried blood on Jake’s forearm, the faint smear along Ricky’s neck. They were easy to explain, but impossible to ignore.
Maybe they could see what was happening.
Maybe they didn’t have to speculate because they already had answers.
They stayed in the same room the first night.
They could have done something to Maddie, while the rest of us were sleeping.
Jake had been alone with Noah after we left.
And Bill. He was dead before I even woke up.
Maybe it wasn’t the three of us against some faceless intruder. Maybe it was me against them.
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “And what exactly is happening, Blair?”
“Someone is fucking with us.”
“Oh,” he said softly. “And who might that be?”
“I—I don’t know,” I admitted, because I didn’t have the strength to point fingers, at least not yet. “But someone killed Bill. You can’t deny that.”
Jake stepped closer. “Were there footprints leading away from him? Was anything taken, like his wallet? Did he have defensive wounds? You said he has an axe in his chest? Was it a shallow wound? How deep was it driven in?” The questions came fast and relentless.
“How am I supposed to know all of that?” I snapped. “I saw him and I ran.”
“So you panicked?” Jake said. “Maybe you’re connecting dots that aren’t there. Your mind saw something frightening, and now it’s filling in the gaps, creating a picture that’s the easiest for you to handle. Just like you did with Maddie and Noah?”
“What the hell?! No! That’s not what’s happening! Listen to me! None of this adds up. None of it. Not the timing. Not how everything keeps getting explained away the second it happens.”
I turned to Ricky because Jake was never going to hear me. “You see that, right?”
Ricky shifted, torn. “Jake has a point. We should—”
“Don’t,” I said.
He raised his hands. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m saying before we decide it’s murder, we should all go take a look.”
I crossed my arms, nails biting into my sleeves, my jaw tight enough to hurt. This wasn’t new. This was the same way they’d treated me when I told them I was leaving Jake. You’re being rash. Your emotions are getting the best of you. You’ll calm down. You’ll change your mind.
Jake nodded. “Exactly. Jumping to conclusions doesn’t help anyone.” His gaze locked on mine. “And right now, Blair . . . you’re spiraling.”
Spiraling. The word landed exactly where he meant it to—not concerned, corrective.
Jake moved first, already reaching for his coat like the decision had been made without me. Ricky followed a moment later, hesitation flickering across his face before it smoothed into resolve.
I exhaled hard through my nose, fighting the urge to scream. Fine. If they needed proof, I’d give it to them.