Oren wasn’t happy about me leaving Hawthorne House, but when it became clear that I wasn’t going to be dissuaded, he ordered security teams to all three SUVs. When we departed, a trio of identical vehicles pulled out past the gates, leaving the paparazzi hoarde with no way of knowing which one Eve and I were in.
Xander was the only Hawthorne with us. He’d come for Rebecca’s sake, not Eve’s, and Eve had allowed it. We’d left Grayson and Jameson behind.
“What’s she like?” Eve asked Xander, once we were clear of the paparazzi. “My grandmother?”
“Rebecca’s mom was always… intense.” Xander’s response pulled my attention away from the heavily tinted window. “She used to be a surgeon, but once Emily was born and they found out about her heart, Mallory quit to devote herself to managing Em’s condition full-time.”
“And then Emily died,” Eve said softly. “And…”
“Kablooey.” Xander made an exploding motion with his fingers. “Bex’s mom started drinking. Her dad goes on these monthlong business trips.”
“And now I’m here.” Eve looked at her hands: her fingers were thin, her nails uneven. “So this is going to go really well,” she muttered.
That was probably an understatement. I texted Thea to give her a heads-up. No response. I pulled up her social media and found myself staring at the last four photos she’d posted. Three of them were black-and-white self-portraits. In one, Thea stared directly at the camera, wearing heavy mascara, her face streaked black with tears. In the second, she was curled into a ball, her hands fisted, almost no clothing visible on her body. In the third, Thea was flipping off the camera with both hands.
Beside me, Eve looked at my phone. “I think I might like those even better than poetry.” That sounded like the truth. Everything she said did. That was the problem.
I focused on Thea’s fourth picture, the most recently uploaded, the only color photo in this set. There were two people in the picture, both laughing, their arms around each other: Thea Calligaris and Emily Laughlin. That picture was the only one with a caption: She was MY best friend, and YOU don’t know what you’re talking about.
I goggled at the enormous number of responses the picture had, then glanced at Xander. “Thea’s doing damage control.” I couldn’t fight the gossip sites, but she could.
Xander angled his phone to me. “She posted a video, too.” He hit Play.
“You may have heard certain… rumors.” Thea’s voice was coy. “About her.” The picture of Thea and Emily flashed across the screen. “And them.” A picture of all four Hawthorne brothers. “And her.” The picture of Eve. “This. Is. A. Mess.” Thea moved her body with each word, a captivating dance that made all of this seem less calculated. “But,” she continued, “they’re my mess. And those rumors about Grayson and Jameson Hawthorne and my dead best friend? They aren’t true.” Thea leaned toward the camera, until her face took up the whole screen. “And I know they’re not true because I’m the one who started them.”
The video ended abruptly, and Xander leaned his head back against the seat. “She is by far the most magnificent and terrifying individual I have ever fake dated.”
Eve gave him a look. “You fake date a lot?”
She seemed so normal. I hadn’t found anything on her phone. But I had to keep my guard up.
Didn’t I?
