“Let’s start unpacking before it gets dark,” Connor cuts into the conversation, checking his watch and then the lowering sun.
“You guys should look at the house first,” Willow proclaims. “I’ll start unpacking.”
“You’re not here as manual labor,” Loren says, softening the edge in his voice. “So you should explore the house with us.”
Willow clears her throat uneasily. “I…” She glances at my Escalade…like she’s hiding something.
I can’t imagine what though, and I look to Connor for his thoughts. He’s still studying her.
She takes a deep breath. “I was going to call my mom—I mean, our mom. Or…you know, whatever she is. I just needed a minute alone.”
The air thickens, and we all look to Lo.
He nods without falter. “Yeah, I didn’t realize you were in contact with her, but…definitely, as long as you don’t tell her the location of where you are—”
“No way,” she says. “I’d never do that.”
“I just had to make sure,” he says, scratching the back of his neck and then he points at me. “We need to talk about the gun thing. Where is it?”
I walk up the steps of the lake house and everyone joins me except Willow. “My glove compartment,” I tell him. My phone vibrates as soon as I reach the porch.
We scheduled the plane for the end of the week, so we’ll be there in a couple days. Don’t have too much fun without us. – Poppy
My older sister, Sam, and their eight-year-old daughter were invited to the lake house, but Maria has school so they’ll be here for the weekend.
“Is it in the glove compartment all the time or just here?” Lo asks.
“All the time,” I tell him, walking around the porch to inspect the deck and view from above before I head inside. I pass multiple rocking chairs and an outdoor chess set.
Lo, Ryke, Daisy, and her husky are the only ones who follow me. Connor and Lily go inside with the babies.
“Is there a no-guns-in-the-house policy?” Ryke asks his brother.
Lo spins on him with sharpened features. “You have a gun,” he assumes. “In the house?”
“I didn’t think you’d be bothered by it,” Ryke says, looking genuinely sorry for not telling him. We reach the front of the deck, and they’re too busy focused on each other to see the sprawling view of the lake. I’ve never been partial to nature, a city girl at heart, but I’m already in love with this.
“I wouldn’t have been a year ago,” Lo explains. “But there are two babies in that house. Please tell me you keep it locked in something.”
“It’s in a fucking safe, I promise,” he says. “I can keep it in the car…if you really need me to.” He glances towards Daisy, like he’s checking to see if she’s okay with the plan.
And I realize—that gun must be for her, to ease her mind when she’s scared at night.
Daisy scratches Coconut behind the ears. “I’ll be okay without it in the house, Ryke,” she says, not dodging the topic like she usually does. Then she howls, which makes Coconut howl.
I hate when she does that since I’m not that fond of dogs, but it’s somewhat more endearing in the wilderness.
“Alright, Calloway,” he says with a nod.
“You can keep it in the safe,” Loren suddenly declares. “I didn’t know…” He glances quickly at Daisy. “Sorry…”
An apology from Loren Hale is hard to come by.
“It’s okay,” Daisy says quickly, not wanting to cause anyone remorse. “Honestly, Lo, we should’ve asked first.”
I clap my hands together. “Let’s unpack.” Everyone focuses on me, slicing through the tension. I strut towards the sliding glass door, my heels click-clacking across the deck.
“Yes, your majesty!” Lo calls as I slip inside.
We’re here, no paparazzi, safe and away. It’s supposed to be a time of sanctuary, but I have a feeling some of us may kill each other.
47
ROSE COBALT
“There are rules,” I announce to the living room, a candle in hand and a box of matches in the other. Violent rain pelts the deck tonight, which seems fitting for our spooky slumber party. We’ve pushed the oversized leather furniture closer to the wide, floor-length window, the house rustic with cabin décor like quilts and red, bear-patterned rugs.
“Of course there are,” Loren says, carrying bowls of popcorn with Ryke and Connor into the room. Lily, swaddled in the thickest quilt, unrolls her sleeping bag with Daisy and Willow.
I strike a match, hoping to appear more threatening. With a flame in possession, I certainly feel destructive. “Number one: you knock over a candle, you have twenty years of bad luck. So be aware of where they’re placed.”
Connor heads over to me. “I’d take stock in your rule if it wasn’t completely nonsensical.”
I give him the side-eye, his grin pulling his lips. “You’ve never heard that if you break a mirror, you have seven years of bad luck? It’s the same concept, Richard.”
“I’ve heard that equally bogus saying, yes.” He blows out my lit match.
I’m about to combat when I realize it was seconds from burning my fingers. Fine. “Two.” I speak more to Connor than the rest of the room. “No mockery.” I narrow my eyes. “Or you will be severely harmed by fire.”
“That’s too bad for you,” he says.
I try to hold my ground, not appearing as perplexed as I feel. “In what way?”
“I’m too smart to burn alone, so you’re going to be set on fire with me.”
I think we’ve already been set on fire together…
Loren passes Connor and tosses popcorn at him. “You two done flirting?”
“We’re not flirting, Loren.” I scoff, sensing Connor’s ego growing in diameter.
Connor’s eyes soak through me, his attention one-hundred percent mine. Your importance to Connor depends directly on the amount of time he gives you—and if I travel back in time, to our teenage years, I realize that I’ve always ranked near the top of his list.
He holds my gaze and then takes the matches from me, setting down the popcorn bowl. He begins to help light the remaining candles that circle the room. I catch his eyes flitting back to me, his smile still there.
I can feel my lips traitorously mimic his expression.
He grins more, but I strangely like the sight.
“Is that the last rule?” Daisy asks, tying her hair into a high bun.
I had more, but they seem superfluous. I just want everyone to have a good time. “That’s it,” I declare, taking a seat on my dark blue sleeping bag just as Connor finishes lighting the last candle. And then a phone rings.
We all begin to check ours—
“It’s me,” Connor declares. I stiffen, watching him put the matches on the couch. He’s going to take the call. I can’t read his expression, so I worry it’s…
“Is it Scott?” I ask him.
The entire room falls into a tense hush. They all know he’s been trying to befriend Scott, but no one knows what that entails but me. Even without the details, everyone can see how much stress has piled on top of him. He may not show it in his features, but there’s a quiet intensity that hangs above Connor that wasn’t there before.