Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Annie leaned into Tate.
His mouth was warm and his arms held her steady.
Butterflies rioted in her belly as he tilted her head to deepen the kiss.
This wasn’t like their first. It was slow and deliberate.
A decision. A choice. Annie gave herself over to it, letting everything around them disappear.
There was only this. His hand cradling the back of her head like she was something precious, the steady thrum of his heart beneath her palm, and his mouth on hers. It was tender and passionate.
It was also undeniable. Annie couldn’t pretend this was a mistake anymore.
A byproduct of adrenaline and stress and fear.
No, these were feelings she’d harbored since high school, but had buried under a pile of hurt and anger.
A wall Tate had chipped away at bit by bit over the last two days with his kindness and his understanding.
His patience. Comforting her after she’d found Kayla.
Working with her to escape from the cabin. Standing with her against Preston.
Tate pulled back, slightly breathless. So was she. Annie waited for the stab of regret, but it didn’t come. Instead, she smiled and teased, “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”
He chuckled. “I don’t like to give up all my secrets, but I will say…” He brushed her mouth with his again. Brief. Gentle. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone else.”
Her insides melted, but it was followed by a pinprick of doubt. She stiffened slightly, and Tate noticed. His smile faded. Those probing brown eyes searched her face, and understanding dawned. He released her with a sigh. “I said too much.”
“No…” She fumbled for words. “I’m sorry, Tate. I want nothing more than to believe you.”
“But you don’t.”
“I have doubts.”
He didn’t look away. “I know. The timing is awful, and we’re both under a lot of stress, but you’ve asked me to be upfront. And I’d like to be, if you’re willing to listen.”
Her heart picked up speed. She’d avoided things long enough.
She nodded.
“This means something to me, Annie. I care about you. I always have, although I haven’t always shown it or done right by you.
And I’d like to say that I’ll never disappoint you again, never hurt you again, but I can’t.
I’m human, and I’m gonna mess up. What I can promise is to always be honest with you. ”
He took her hands in his, the bandage on his wound a reminder of how close they’d come to dying. “I want to date you when this is all said and done. At the risk of completely freaking you out, I think I’m falling in love with you. Maybe I never stopped being in love with you, I don’t know.”
Her knees weakened. Love? He was falling in love with her?
Had been in love with her in high school?
“I’m not the kid who hurt you,” Tate continued. “I’ve changed, and I’d like the opportunity to show you who I’ve become, but I need you to give me a chance.”
She swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. “I know. You’re right. I just…don’t know if I can.” She was scared, and couldn’t fully explain why.
He nodded. “I know you need time to sort things out. I’m not asking for an answer right now.” Tate leaned forward and kissed her again. “If you decide we can’t move forward…if this moment is all we can ever be…then so be it. But I wanted—I needed—you to know how I feel.”
“Thank you for being honest.” She needed to think. Needed to pray. “I just need some time.”
“Of course.” Tate released her, but held out a hand for her to take. “Come on. Let’s find Evan and see what he has to say.”
Together, they went back into the hallway.
The lights flickered before coming back on.
The buried lines were holding, just as Dwayne promised.
Small mercies. Beyond the large glass windows lining the lobby, the storm was in full force.
Wind blew tree branches sideways, and sleet pelted every surface.
In contrast, the Christmas tree in the corner glowed, and the fireplace radiated warmth.
Some of their classmates were gathered around the seating areas with blankets, playing cards and board games.
Voices carried from the dining room, where dinner was still ongoing.
Annie’s steps faltered next to the stairs. “I promised to check on Heather. Go on ahead. I bet Brooke and Evan are still in the dining room. I’ll catch up to you.”
Tate squeezed her hand before releasing it.
Caleb, sitting in a leather armchair noticed, and his expression darkened.
A shiver raced up Annie’s spine. She felt his gaze on her back as she took the stairs two at a time to the upper floor, and only once she was out of Caleb’s view did she release a breath.
She’d never felt uncomfortable in Caleb’s presence before. Knowing that a killer might be among their group was making her suspicious. She didn’t like it. Didn’t like the sense that she couldn’t trust her own instincts.
Her footsteps were silent on the carpet as she drew closer to Heather’s room. The door was closed. Annie tapped on the wood. “Heather, it’s Annie. I came to check on you.”
No answer. Annie waited a minute and then knocked again. Silence. Concerned, but not wanting to invade Heather’s privacy, she opened the door a crack. “Hey, Heather. Are you okay?”
The room was pitch-black, a shape barely visible in the bed.
Heather was sleeping, probably a good thing given her migraine.
Annie drew back and was about to shut the door when the light from the hallway fell on the suitcase sitting at the foot of the bed.
A photograph, its corners soft from handling, sat on top of the clothes.
Annie leaned in, drawn by the tug of nostalgia.
Miller’s Pond, the summer before senior year.
Her former classmates crowded onto the old dock, sunburned and laughing, someone’s radio probably blasting just out of frame.
Kayla commanded the center, naturally—head thrown back mid-laugh, Preston’s arm draped over her shoulders.
Dylan and Nick mugging for the camera. Brooke, a blur of motion at the edge, caught turning toward someone.
Seth was there too, squinting into the sun with that easy, crooked grin.
Twenty years ago. Before the prom. Before the bonfire. Back when they were just kids who thought a summer could last forever.
An ache bloomed beneath Annie’s ribs as she stared at Seth’s image.
His tousled mop of brown hair, the patchy scruff on his chin, the bright orange bathing suit.
In the picture, he had his arm around Heather’s shoulders, but his gaze was on Kayla.
His adoration was obvious. At the time, she hadn’t noticed. As an adult, it was clear as day.
Had he known the betrayal that would follow, would Seth still have chosen Kayla?
“Annie.”
Heather’s voice came from the bed, yanking Annie from her thoughts. Heat suffused her cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just checking to make sure you were okay.”
A lamp clicked on, revealing Heather sitting up in bed. She squinted. “What time is it?” Heather glanced at the phone on her nightstand. “Oh goodness, I’ve been out for an hour. It’s good you came to wake me, otherwise I’d never sleep tonight.”
“How’s your migraine?”
“Better.” She touched her head. “Just a dull ache now.”
“There’s pizza downstairs if you’re interested.” Migraines could cause upset stomachs, and Heather might not be in the mood for something heavy. “Or I can rustle you up something lighter. The pantry is fully stocked, and so is the freezer. We might even have some leftover chicken soup.”
“Oh, thanks. I’ll be down in a bit.” Heather smiled. “Thanks for checking on me.”
“Sure thing.” She backed out of the room, still feeling self-conscious, and shut the door.
Real smooth. Caught staring at the photograph like a nosy houseguest. Annie shook her head at herself and headed for the stairs.
The yeasty smell of dough teased her nose.
She’d been looking forward to pizza, but Caleb’s parting words—talk to Evan—had left her stomach in knots.
Two decades of friendship said Evan was innocent. Her instincts said the same. But her instincts had been wrong before.
Annie had thought she was past all this. That she’d grown confident enough to trust herself. But this weekend was putting every conviction to the test. It was like she was back in high school all over again. Uncertain. And more insidious than the killer lurking among them were her doubts.
Was there anyone she could completely trust?