Five
I wake to the sound of my phone vibrating with texts.
Head aching from stress and lack of sleep, I roll over and grab my phone. Aemond mews to get out of my bedroom. Usually I’d follow my prince’s demands first, but something compels me toward my phone.
I never have texts coming in as soon as my phone goes off do-not-disturb mode.
When I see the text previews, I furrow my brow.
None of the names are my friends. They’re…acquaintances. People who sometimes join lunch with Paisley and the gang and me. Students from drama class. Students from other schools who come to Paisley’s parties.
For a moment, I consider clearing the text notifications and burrowing under my covers. Someone must’ve figured out I wasn’t at Paisley’s camping trip and now everyone is mocking me all at once.
But then a text comes in from Owen.
OWEN: Holy shit E google your friends
I google Paisley’s name first.
There isn’t much. Mostly, it’s old tabloids talking about Mrs. Horne taking young Paisley and Beck to the Kids’ Choice Awards or other premieres over the years. One or two local papers talking about theater productions she’s been in.
It’s all too innocent. My chest tightens with each wrong headline.
I knock on the wall between Owen’s and my rooms. “Owen, what are you talking about?”
He doesn’t reply, but his heavy footsteps sound as he moves through his room. I keep scrolling.
Leslie Van Dutch’s daughters attend…
Leslie Van Dutch’s daughters wear…
But these are all so old. Even sorting the headlines by recent isn’t showing anything Owen would text me over.
My door whines. Aemond springs out to freedom. I whirl around.
Owen is ghost white. “It’s on KTLA.”
My heartbeat picks up as I type in her name and the station. I don’t know why Owen can’t say it out loud.
“I’m so sorry, Em,” he mutters. “Do you want me to…?”
I don’t hear what he offers to do. Because I found it.
My phone clatters onto the floor.
REMAINS OF GIRLS, INCLUDING ’80S ICON LESLIE VAN DUTCH’S DAUGHTER, PAISLEY HORNE, FOUND IN KINGSTON NATIONAL PARK