Chapter Twelve New Blood
twelve
New Blood
I’m running through the forest, screaming for help, the razor-sharp rocks shredding my bare feet.
I know this drill. So although I see the clearing in the woods up ahead, I’m not relieved. I know what’s coming. And yet my feet can’t stop moving there.
It happens the way it always does. Before I can rush forward, hands reach out under my armpits, yanking me back.
I look up at the canopy of trees, the birdhouses dangling in a colorful array, framing my father’s serene face as he says “There you are!” and kisses my temple, his fingers tickling my ribs.
I try to escape the tickles, shrieking with laughter. I tip my head to look at him, and that’s when I see them. Dangling from the trees.
Not birdhouses.
Bodies.
Six of them. All women, their long hair hanging over their eyes, their heads lolling at unnatural angles. They’ve been strung up there, pale and dead.
“Do you like my little sparrows, Gabby? Do you want to join them?”
Before I know it, the twine is wrapped around my neck, tightening until I can’t breathe—
I wake up gasping and choking, clutching at my neck, trying to free myself from the tangled rope.
“Whoa!” Jasmine says in the darkness. In an instant she’s by my side. “Are you okay? Are you having another nightmare?”
A nightmare. That’s all it was. Just in my head.
My fingers are still clutching the sheets. Loosening them, I nod, sucking in air, trying to calm myself.
“It’s okay,” Jasmine says, giving me a rather stiff pat on the back, as if she has no idea what to do with her crazy cousin. “It’s fine. It was just a nightmare. You’re okay.”
“Yeah.” I swallow my panic and manage a smile. “Thanks. I know.”
“Are you sure you’re good? Wanna talk about it?”
That’s the last thing I want to do. “No. But thanks.”
Two minutes later, she’s snoring again. I can’t fall back asleep. Instead, I watch out the blinds as the sky lightens. Then I grab my phone and check the time. It’s barely six. I decide there’s no way I’m sleeping now, so I get up, change into a hoodie and jeans, and head out along the path.
It’s almost too dark, but there’s a sliver of moonlight overhead, and by now I know the path well. I find a perch on the rocks, overlooking the valley with the Smoky Mountains in the distance, and wait for the sun to rise.
As I’m waiting, I hear footfalls along the path. I know it before I see him—it’s Everett.
He catches sight of me and breaks out into a delighted smile. “Hey,” he says, slowing to a stop. “What are you up to so early?”
“Taking pictures,” I say automatically, before I realize what an idiot I am. I was so unnerved by the dream that I forgot to bring my camera.
He notices, and his grin widens. But he doesn’t say a word about it. “I was hoping to see you here.”
“Really?” As much as I appreciate him not playing games, I’m not above playing them myself. Because I don’t tell him that I’ve been coming out here almost every morning, hoping to see him too. I’ve given up on finding my necklace in these woods, yet I still keep coming back.
“Yeah. Figured you might be out for a walk. I was gonna invite you over for breakfast. My dad is making pancakes.”
“I have to get ready for school.”
“The bus doesn’t come for two more hours,” he points out. “And you could ride with me if you miss it.”
I hesitate. His property is next door to the Shipleys, not far at all. And after the week I’ve had, I could use a distraction.
“I don’t know…” I start, but he cuts me off with that easy smile.
“C’mon. We’ve got plenty of food, and the dogs will love you.”
The dogs. That gets me.
“Fine,” I relent, “but I can’t stay long.”
“Deal.”
We walk through the woods in silence, his presence oddly calming despite everything. Soon the trail looks less like a trail and more like a rural property. We pass an idyllic wooden gazebo and an old wishing well. A firepit. Several large garden beds beneath the shade of ancient trees.
The James house has chipped white paint on the outside and a creaky porch that looks like it’s been through a few too many thunderstorms. The side yard is fenced off, and as we approach, I hear the barking before I even see the dogs.
Several of them rush up to the fence, tails wagging, and I can’t help but smile.
“Are these all rescues?” I exclaim.
“Nah, these are the boarders,” Everett explains. “Dad’s side business. They sleep in the kennels. Our rescues get the red-carpet treatment. They’re in the house.”
When we step inside, I smell pancakes and air freshener. Plus the teeniest hint of wet dog, but it’s not too bad. The interior is cluttered but not messy. Family photos cover the walls, and some of the furniture is scratched up, no doubt from the dogs.
Speaking of the dogs, they’re everywhere. Big, small, and every size in between.
The first dog that rushes up to me is a shaggy German shepherd mix with one ear flopped over. His tail wags so hard it looks like it might take off in flight. Everett tells me his name is Max, and from the way he leans into me as soon as I pet him, I can tell he’s a sweetheart.
Then a scrappy little terrier zips past, his short legs moving so fast he’s practically a blur. “That’s Rocket,” Everett says with a grin. “He’s got more energy than sense.”
In the corner, a large, older golden retriever lies sprawled on a dog bed, her fur graying around her face. “That’s Bella,” Everett supplies, his voice softening. “She’s been with us the longest. A rescue from when Dad first opened the shelter.”
There are a couple of other dogs—a stocky bulldog mix named Duke, who grumbles affectionately when I scratch his back, and a sleek black Lab named Shadow, who watches everything with calm, intelligent eyes.
The dogs clearly rule this place, with blankets and toys scattered across the living room floor and water bowls tucked in every corner.
In the kitchen, we find JP flipping pancakes at the stove. His face brightens when we walk in. “Well, hey there, Ryan!”
I smile awkwardly, still a little unsure of how to act around Everett’s dad, especially after the strange tension between him and my aunt. But he’s so friendly, it’s hard not to reciprocate. “Hey. Thanks for having me.”
JP waves it off, setting a plate of pancakes on the table. “You’re always welcome here. And now that I know you love dogs, I’m happy you’re getting to meet the crew.”
Before I can respond, a scruffy mutt with big brown eyes comes bounding over and nudges my leg. I crouch down to pet him, and JP chuckles.
“That’s Steve. He’s a happy boy.”
“I can tell,” I say, scratching behind Steve’s ears as his tail thumps against the floor.
Everett sits across from me, grabbing a pancake and pouring on the syrup.
Just as I start to relax, the mood shifts. Nikki strides in wearing a tiny skirt and an even tinier top, a denim jacket slung over the purse that hangs off her shoulder.
Her face twists in an annoyed scowl as soon as she sees me. “Seriously? We now have Ev’s girlfriends over before seven in the morning? At least Sofia had the decency to not show up till eight.” She plops down at the table and picks up a fork. Her nails are bloodred, as usual.
I feel a flush creep up my neck.
JP shoots her a warning look. “Be nice.”
She glares at her dad. “Whatever.”
“Don’t mind her, Ryan,” he says. “She’s just cranky because her math teacher is making her come to school an hour early all week for tutoring.”
“Goddamn Mr. Rueben,” Nikki mumbles.
I force a small smile, but the tension from Nikki’s snarky comment lingers. I feel out of place, even though Everett and JP both make an effort to include me. Steve nudges my hand again, and I absentmindedly pet him, trying to focus on the dogs instead of Nikki’s sulky attitude.
As we finish breakfast, JP leans back in his chair, looking at me hopefully. “I know I threw out the offer yesterday about you volunteering at the shelter, but if you’re interested, I’ve got a part-time paying spot open. Just a few hours a week, nothing too demanding.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Think about it. You’d be great.”
Everett winks at me. “Do it. Make the dogs happy.”
Nikki snorts from across the table. “God, could you be any more obvious, Ev? Spoiler alert, Shipley: He wants in your pants.”
“Shut up, Nikki,” he snaps, for once losing his laid-back Everett cool.
JP frowns. “All right, that’s enough. Nikki, if you can’t be polite, you don’t need to be here right now.”
She pushes her chair with a screech. “Whatever,” she says, stomping toward the door.
I scrape back my own chair. “I should go.”
“No—” Everett starts, but I’m already on my feet. He sighs and gets up too. “I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he interrupts, and so we head back to the trail.
We walk in silence again for a bit. He’s way too close for comfort. Or maybe it’s because his shoulders are so broad that his body can’t help but almost brush mine.
About halfway to the Shipley place, Everett gives me a sidelong look and says, “Here’s the thing, Gemini.”
“I don’t like that nickname.”
“Yeah, you do,” he says, and damn if he isn’t right.
I do kind of like it. “Anyway, the thing is, I’ve lived in this town my entire life.
I know everyone. Literally everyone, and that’s not an exaggeration.
Do you realize how boring it is when you know everyone?
” He lets out a dramatic groan before flashing me a playful grin. “I need new blood. I need you.”
I laugh. “So that’s all I am to you? New blood? Entertainment?”
“Nah. I’m joking. But you seem cool. Easy to talk to. I just want to get to know you.”
Reluctance lodges inside me. Letting him get to know me is the worst possible decision I could make.
But…maybe it couldn’t hurt to get to know him a little better.
“I really like your dad,” I say.
He blinks at the sudden change of subject. “Yeah? He’s all right, I guess.”
“What about your mom? Are your parents divorced?”
His smile doesn’t exactly disappear, but the dimples do. “She died when I was a kid.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, but it was a long time ago. Hasn’t been easy for my dad, raising us alone. I mean, you’ve met my sister.” He gives a dry laugh. “But we’re all good. You lost your mom too, huh?”
My throat constricts as I feed him the story Maggie concocted. “She died in a car accident.”
“Shit. That’s rough. I’m sorry too.”
There’s real emotion in his eyes as he voices that. He’s not the typical meathead, popular jock, like the ones I knew in Allentown. He seems so earnest, I can’t help but lean into him. Everett notices, his expression dancing with mischief.
“So what do I gotta do to convince you to go out with me? I could take my shirt off to sweeten the deal?”
My jaw drops. “Oh my God. Please don’t.”
He throws his head back and laughs, and I can’t fight a smile, because not only is this guy cute and down-to-earth, he’s also kind of funny. The total package. No wonder girls go mad for him.
I move even closer, licking my lips, and he moves in, too, tracking the gesture. He’s going to kiss me. My heart rate accelerates at the thought.
But then reality comes crashing in, causing me to take a hasty step back. I can’t do this. I can’t get too close to anyone in Starling.
I put on a casual tone. “So, uh, what are you going to do after graduation?”
He clears his throat, raking a hand through his hair again. I’m starting to realize he does that when he’s unsure of himself. “Uh, me? Alabama. Roll Tide.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, got a full ride for football,” he says with a humble little shrug. “What about you?”
“I don’t think college is for me. I’m probably going to travel.”
“Back to Europe?” He seems very interested in that. In me. It’s such a nice change from Marco that I can’t help but want more of it.
“I’m considering traveling around the country with my camera. Seeing where I land.”
He stares at me, looking slightly bewildered. It’s unnerving.
“What?”
“Nothing. Sorry. I was just thinking how badass you are. I wish I could be that brave.” He stops walking again, intercepting my path. “But how brave are you, really?”
I eye him suspiciously. “What does that mean?”
“If you were truly brave, you’d go out with me tomorrow night. You want to see the country, huh? Well, why don’t you start with Starling in all its glory? I promise, I’ll take you to the sickest place in town.”
I’m not convinced. “Where is it?”
He presses his lips together, zipping them and throwing away the key. I glare at him.
“Is that a yes?” he prompts.
Several seconds tick by before I answer in a grudging tone. It’s not the most enthusiastic response, but it’s all he’s getting.
“Fine.”