Addy
Wednesday, July 8
“There it is,” I say when we near the end of a long, winding road. “You can see Jake’s house behind those trees on the right.”
I can hear Maeve shift in her seat behind me, getting closer to the window, and then she sucks in a breath. “There are lights on,” she says. “Somebody’s here. Abort! Abort!”
“There are always lights on,” I say. “Jake’s parents have them on a timer. These vacation homes get broken into if they seem empty for too long.” I slow to a crawl, inching along until I spot a familiar paved indent along the side of the road and ease my car into it. “The driveway is about fifteen feet ahead,” I tell them. “We can keep driving or park here and walk.”
“Park,” Maeve says instantly. “In case you’re wrong about the lights.”
I turn off the car, and when the headlights go out, the road turns pitch black. When we climb out of the car, goose bumps erupt all over my body. I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I’d thought to bring a sweatshirt like the one Maeve grabs from the back seat. “Here,” Nate says, shrugging off his leather jacket and thrusting it toward me.
“You’re not cold?” I ask, even as I slip it on gratefully.
“Nah,” he says.
“He’s warmed by the flame of love, which even the river beside Marshall’s Peak couldn’t extinguish,” Maeve says dramatically.
“Shut it,” Nate says, but he’s still too relieved to sound truly annoyed.
“Shhh,” I say as we approach the Riordans’ driveway. A couple of flickering sconces light the stone pillars on either side of the entrance, but once we pass them it’s dark again. The driveway is long, and I can’t see anything except the wood-and-glass monstrosity looming a couple dozen yards ahead of us. I’ve never liked this house—there’s something cold about it—but there’s no denying that it makes a statement.
“Jesus,” Nate mutters. “That’s their second home?”
“Third,” I whisper. “They have a place in Barbados too. That’s the sunroom right in front of us—the one with all the windows above the patio area.”
“Why is there wallpaper in a sunroom?” Maeve whispers.
“It’s just one wall. It’s supposed to complement the plants outside.”
“Oh, good,” Nate says. I can’t see him well, but I can practically hear his eyes rolling out of his head. “Wouldn’t want them to clash. Where’s the spare key?”
“Beneath one of the planters at the side door. At least, that’s where it used to—”
Maeve grabs my arm and I stop in my tracks. “Addy,” she hisses. “There’s a car.”
She’s right. It’s parked on the most deeply shadowed part of the driveway, so I hadn’t noticed until we were practically on top of it. My heart pounds as I take in the familiar lines and say, “Not just a car. Jake’s car.”
“Why is he here?” Nate mutters, jaw tensing as he stares at the house. “Is this whole probation deal a joke?”
“I told you—dark web,” I say. “He’s moving around way too much for someone who’s following court orders.”
“Okay, well, time to go,” Maeve says. “We tried. Good effort, team.”
“Wait,” I say. “We know Bronwyn isn’t there, but what if someone else is?” I can’t stand the thought, suddenly, of coming all this way and then turning around empty-handed. I know exactly what Jake is capable of. What if I could prove it now, when he’s probably feeling invincible? “I think we should still check it out.”
“I strongly disagree,” Maeve whispers, backing up.
“Well, I’m going,” I say, turning to Nate. “You in?”
He sighs. “If you’re in, I’m in.”
Maeve fades into the shadows. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
Nate and I creep closer to the house, skirting past the front and around the side. I know from spending nights here that the lack of outdoor lighting makes it impossible to see anything outside except your own reflection in the windows. We pass the cavernous living room, with its wall-mounted television turned to a sports channel, but I don’t see people anywhere.
“Seems quiet,” Nate murmurs.
“There’s a whole downstairs area that we can’t see from here,” I whisper, crouching beside one of the planters next to the side door. It’s meant to look heavy, but it’s not, and it lifts easily to let me slide my hand beneath. I feel around for the extra key, my fingers scraping against rough concrete but nothing else.
“Looking for this?” a voice asks, and I drop the planter with a loud clatter.
Nate steps in front of me, partially obscuring my view of the figure on the steps below us: Jake, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, his ankle monitor visible beneath his sock, holding up the spare key. I gape at him, too shocked by his presence to respond, and his mouth curls into a sardonic grin. “I saw your car while I was out running. Way to violate your own restraining order, Addy. Guess you can’t stay away, huh?”
He takes a step forward, and so does Nate. “Back off,” Nate says.
“You’re trespassing, Macauley. I could go inside and call the cops on you right now,” Jake says. But he stays put, looking Nate up and down. “Or we could settle things another way. Pretty sure I could take you, seeing as I spent a lot more time behind bars than you did. You learn things.” Jake’s eyes drift back toward me, and I force myself not to shrink into Nate’s jacket. “Then Addy and I can have a conversation that’s long overdue.”
“Over your dead body,” Nate says in an ice-cold, Don’t-fuck-with-me tone that would intimidate most people.
Not Jake, though. “Yeah?” he asks, crackling his knuckles. “You wanna try me?”
“Jake!” A familiar voice drifts from inside the house, snapping me out of my frozen state. I scramble to my feet as Jake’s father adds, “You talking to someone?”
“Just a neighbor,” Jake calls back. “Be right in.”
His lips twist again, eyes glittering as they capture mine. I can’t look away, no matter how much I want to. “Oh well. The timing’s not right for a reunion, but here’s the thing, Ads.” His old nickname for me sounds like a threat. “I’m getting this monitor off, and soon. We both know it. And if you think I’ve forgotten about what you did to me, if you think I forgive you for that? You thought wrong. We have a score to settle. Get used to living life looking over your shoulder, because one of these days, I’m going to be there.” Jake levels another stare at Nate as he circles around him and inserts the key into the lock. “And he won’t.”
He opens the door and then, thank God, he’s out of sight. But I still can’t breathe properly; it’s like I’ve forgotten how. “Don’t listen to that prick,” Nate says in a harsh whisper. “He’s messing with your head.”
“No. He’s just telling the truth,” I say, the weight of the words dropping my voice so low that I’m barely audible. “I knew he felt that way. All he did was confirm it. He’s right about the restraining order too.” Tears gather behind my eyes, and I blink them away. Not here. “Let’s go. This was such a stupid idea. I never should’ve talked you guys into coming here.”
“We all agreed,” Nate says as we start back down the driveway. “And it was pure bad luck that he saw us. Who the hell goes running this time of night?”
“We didn’t even get a picture of the damn wallpaper,” I say. Which is the least of my problems right now, but if we had, maybe I could convince myself that there’s a silver lining to hearing Jake speak words straight out of my nightmares.
“Don’t be so sure about that.”
Maeve’s voice floats toward us from the darkness, and within seconds she appears, holding up her phone. “I’m not a very good lookout, because I never saw Jake coming,” she says in a breathless whisper. “But he didn’t see me either. So while he was being his usual asshole self, I climbed up to the patio. The door to the sunroom was unlocked, so—” She hands me her phone. “There you go. A crystal clear picture of the wallpaper, in all its hideous glory.”
