Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
PRESENT DAY
“This is a joke.” I blink, staring at my arch nemesis standing there, smiling that stupid, infuriating smile.
“Our mothers are playing a practical joke. I’m going to kill—” I cut myself off, realizing I’ll never again be able to utter those words with such thoughtlessness.
Death is no longer a joke or an empty threat to me.
Not like it was.
Even though Dad died when I was five, we never had the kind of relationship I had with Ruth. He wasn’t around much. He and Mom never married, and I mostly only saw him at holidays. It just wasn’t the same.
His death was a paper cut that has never fully healed.
This death—her death—stings like broken glass on sunburned skin.
Will runs a hand through his hair. He looks like he hasn’t slept. “Uh, yeah. You’re not living here. Clearly.”
“Obviously.” I brush my hair back from my face. Then, studying his expression for any sign he was in on the joke, I ask, “You really didn’t know?”
“Mom just said she had a friend who needed a place.” He looks over his shoulder. Like he’s checking something behind him. Some trap he’s waiting for me to walk into. “I assumed it was a dude.”
“Well, yeah. She couldn’t let you live with a woman. How would you hide the fact that you’re a lizard person?”
His face wrinkles with mock humor. “Clearly why she sent you.”
“Because I already know you’re a lizard person.”
“Because she doesn’t have to worry about me being attracted to you.”
I laugh out loud, then pretend to fan myself, pretend to bat back tears as I don a fake Southern accent.
“Oh, whatever will I do? Fitzwilliam Kendricks doesn’t think I’m pretty?
Heavens. Alert the authorities. Alert the press.
” I step back, rolling my eyes as he just stares at me, a mixture of annoyed and amused.
He’s always staring at me like I’m the strangest person he’s ever met.
“Look, I’m just going to go.” I turn, moving toward the stairs.
I’m on the second step when he calls, “Wait!” Too fast. Too sharp. He sounds like he regrets it immediately, even as the words leave his mouth.
I pause but don’t move. “Why?”
“It’s…” He waits, eyeing me. “Come back. We should talk about this like adults.”
“I’m an adult. Debatable for you.” I fold my arms across my chest, unbudging. “Come to me.”
He huffs but walks, barefoot, toward me across the landing.
The floorboards don’t creak in here like they did on the stairs.
He looks exhausted already, as exhausted as I feel.
“Look, this is officially my least favorite idea ever, but…it’s probably important to our moms. They’ve been…
Things’ve been hard on them since Ruth, and well, with the investigation and everything—”
“Investigation?” That has me turning fully around. “What investigation?”
His jaw drops, but he doesn’t answer fast enough.
“They’re investigating Ruth’s death?” I ask. “No. I thought it was ruled an accident. Mom didn’t mention…”
“I don’t think it’s a big deal, but as far as I know, they still haven’t closed the case. I know both our moms have been questioned a few times.”
“Questioned? Like suspects? They were her best friends.”
He scratches the back of his neck. His eyes slide away from mine. “I think more like witnesses.”
I puff out a breath. Why didn’t Mom tell me about that? Why wouldn’t she mention she’s been under such stress? Or that the police are still circling?
This is ridiculous. No one would’ve hurt Ruth. Everyone loved her.
But in reality, we both know that’s not true. Ruth was abrasive until you got to know her. She was cold. She closed down like nothing I’d ever seen. Of the three moms we had, she was the one to hold a grudge.
When I was nine, I was with Ruth at the grocery store when the cashier refused her one-day-expired coupon. From that day forward, she drove twenty-eight minutes to the next town for her groceries and never stepped foot in our local store again.
She’s the woman who stopped speaking to her cousin for a year because she gave away Ruth’s favorite casserole dish.
When the people on the property next to ours planted trees for privacy, Ruth was certain they’d planted one over the property line. She had the land surveyed, and when it came back that the tree covered three inches of our property, Ruth re-measured it every year. She kept a log and everything.
So maybe not everyone loved her, but the people who counted did. The ones she chose.
“I’m sure she’s just protecting you. She doesn’t want you tangled up in the middle of it,” Will says eventually.
I rest my hands on my hips, sizing him up. “Okay, fine. Mom doesn’t want me at her house, but…this will never work. We’ll kill each other.” With Will, I’ll let the figure of speech slide.
He puts a hand on his chest. “Opal, I promise not to kill you.”
Something unreadable flickers across his face. It’s gone before I can name it.
“This is serious. We can’t live together. I hate you.”
“Trust me, the feeling is very much mutual. I’m not suggesting we make this permanent, and we can put a pin in getting matching tattoos and friendship bracelets, but I do have a spare room, and you do need a place to go.
Why don’t you stay here for a few days until you can figure something else out?
We’ll keep to our sides of the apartment, and it’ll make our moms happy. Clearly, they want you somewhere safe.”
“And the side of the interstate was taken?”
He laughs under his breath, dropping his head. Then deadpans, “You’re really very funny, Opal. You missed your calling when you chose grim reaping.”
I shake my head, thinking over his proposal. I feel gross here, like I’m dripping in…Will. His air. His space. His saltwater scent. I shiver, brushing the feeling away from my skin. “I still don’t know. What is this place? Your little love shack?”
“Also known as my house, yes.”
“It’s an apartment.”
“A penthouse, then.”
I pretend to gag. Of course he’d call it that.
“Do you want to at least have a look around?”
Begrudgingly, I take a step up onto the landing and toward his door. He moves back, watching me like I’m a wild animal. Or like he’s measuring distance, purposefully keeping space.
I do not want to stay here. With him. It’s going to be miserable.
But—and it pains me to be the one to admit this—he’s right.
Mom and Margie, the little liars, clearly sent me here because they feel like I’ll be safe until I find a place of my own.
Or because they don’t want me tangled up in the investigation, though if they think I’ll keep out of it, they’re very wrong.
Still, I don’t want to push. Mom will shut down if I try, and that’s the last thing I want.
So…
I’ll look around. And, as long as it’s not a biohazard site, I’ll stay for a night or two until I can find my own place. No longer than a week.
With that stupid, cocky walk and that stupid, cocky swagger, he leads me into the apartment and—
Holy shit.
This place is…wow. This place is…
I clear my throat, wiping away the look of awe moments after he catches it.
With a totally blank face, I take it in.
This place is…incredible. The ceilings here are tall and exposed, with brick walls that seem to go on forever.
The floors are smooth concrete, and the space is lit with warm light that makes it all feel too cozy.
Too curated. We’re standing in the kitchen, a large room with a long, white quartz island that has a sink built into it. It’s…clean.
Immaculate.
He probably has a cleaning lady he tips with…extracurriculars.
To my left, I can see into the living room. A deep-chocolate sectional placed over a large, white area rug. There’s even a fireplace. Still, no dust. No clutter. No signs of the chaos I’ve always known Will to bring.
“You like it,” he says matter-of-factly.
I wipe the betraying look of appreciation off my face and glare at him. “Well, sure. Mostly because I expected you to live in a refrigerator box in our moms’ driveways forever. So, at this point, anything’s an improvement.”
He snaps his fingers. “Well, that was the plan, but apparently, they don’t come in boxes anymore.
So, I thought this would do.” He gestures around.
“Kitchen, living room. My bedroom’s at the end of the hall.
Yours is here.” He crosses the kitchen and walks down the hallway, pushing open one of the doors.
“It’s just been empty since I moved in, so…
” He shrugs and seems to lose his train of thought. “It’s ready.”
“Ready?”
His eyes linger on mine for a brief moment, then he looks away in a flash, changing the subject from whatever thought just crossed his mind. It must’ve gotten lonely in there, rattling around in all the empty space. “We’ve got our own bathrooms.”
“A saving grace.”
His lips quirk. “Exactly. Anyway, that’s pretty much it. Thoughts? Opinions? Letters to the editor?”
I draw in a deep breath. It smells faintly of cleaner. Better than the previous whiff of Will. “It’ll do for now. But I’m not staying more than a day or two.”
“Pinky promise?” He plasters on a grin, hands clasped together at his chest like he’s begging.
I roll my eyes, then turn away. “I’m going to get my stuff.”
“Hope you’re not expecting help with that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Don’t trip on the stairs. It’s a long way down. And don’t scrape them up either, I just had them refinished.”
I stomp my foot extra hard on the top step, scuffing it with my heel. He just walks past the open door without a word, shaking his head like that was the exact reaction he anticipated.
This is never going to work. We’re going to kill each other.