Don't Look Back(32)

“You went to the tree house?” I asked, remembering what he’d said before.

“Yep,” he replied quietly. “I wasn’t in there for more than twenty minutes, and then you kind of came out of nowhere. Climbed up into that damn house. You didn’t say anything, but you sat down beside me and...”

“And what?” I felt as if I was hearing about someone else’s history, and I was fascinated.

He leaned back, running the palm of his hand over his jaw. “You just hugged me. You know, like, for a while. You never said anything and finally you left. We’ve never talked about it. Sometimes I wonder if it really happened.”

My heart tripped up, and relief eased some of the tense muscles in my shoulders. It was nice to hear that I had some redeemable moments. “I’m sorry about your mother, Carson.”

He nodded again. “Anyway, like I said, you had your moments.”

Realizing that was all I was going to get from him, I crossed my legs and looked at the menu again. “When this place was Spiritfield’s, it had the best crab cheese fries ever. Scott and I used to fight over them.”

Carson sucked in a sharp breath. “Sam?”

My mouth dropped open as I looked up. How had I known that? “I don’t know why I said that.”

He continued to stare at me, and pieces of what I’d said floated together in my brain. I could almost see us—my brother and me, much younger, sitting at a booth just like this, pulling apart a gooey mess of fries and cheese.

Excitement swept through me. I almost came out of my seat. “I remember eating here with Scott.”

“It hasn’t been called Spiritfield’s for years, Sam.”

I nodded eagerly, a wide smile pulling at my lips. “I don’t remember anything else, but that’s something right?”

“It’s something.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach those eyes of his.

Before I could question it, the waitress appeared to take our orders, and buzzing on having one clear, nondisturbing memory, I didn’t want to push my luck. For the first time in days, I felt as if I’d actually accomplished something. I threw myself into having lunch with Carson, laughing at his jokes and the stories he told me about when we were young, getting swept up in the crazy rush of feelings whenever our eyes would meet or our fingers would accidentally brush. I couldn’t stop smiling, and when it came time to get back on the bike, he didn’t need to pull my arms around him.

I did that without even thinking twice.

When we arrived at Carson’s house, I realized I was reluctant to climb off the bike and go back home. It was like living two lives—the one the old Sammy existed in and the one that was taking place right now. That feeling, as Carson slid off the bike and turned to me, was confusing as hell.

Wordlessly, he unbuckled my chinstrap and gently pulled my helmet off. His eyes were hooded, hidden under thick lashes, and unreadable. I wanted to thank him for going along with me today, to tell him that I had fun in spite of why we’d made the trip to Cassie’s house, but any and all words died on my lips. There was a strange, powerful tension that crept over us, heady and warm, as he placed the helmet on the bike. I opened my mouth to say something again, but the strain built, stealing my breath, shocking me.

Carson placed his hands on my hips and easily lifted me off the bike, placing my feet on the ground, but he didn’t just let go. His hands remained tight on my hips. An unknown need sprang alive, one I didn’t fully understand. My skin felt tingly, hot. His steady breath teased the hair at my temple. My pulse jumped. What I was feeling was wrong. I knew that, because this should be happening with Del and not Carson. But what I was feeling was so startlingly real. Like a splash of vibrant color in a world that was a dark, drab gray.

Very slowly, Carson lifted his fingers and stepped back. He chest rose sharply, and when he spoke, his voice was rough and deep. “I’ve got to go.”

Still speechless, I nodded.

His gaze dropped to my lips, and he took another step back. “I’ll see you later, Sam.”

In a daze, I started back to my house. Something ticked at the far corners of my thoughts. There’d been a moment, when his breath was warm against my skin, that it had felt right even though it was wrong. And more than that, it had felt familiar.

It happened in second period on Monday. I’d been busy pretending to pay attention when I was really thinking about Carson and what happened between us on Saturday. Had I imagined it? Had he felt it? Was it really even important considering everything that was going on?

A chorus of cell phones went off, one beep after another. Mr. Campbell stopped midlecture and sighed. “Turn off the phones, people.”

No one listened. I glanced at Veronica as I dug out my own chirping phone. She was faster than me, pulling that cell out of her bag like a gunslinger.

Veronica’s complexion turned a ghastly white under her tan. She lifted her head and turned to me, her eyes wide and wet.

A low murmur picked up, rolling like a wave through the class. The text was from Lauren and just six words. Six words that should’ve changed everything, but there’d been a part of me that had been expecting it.

Maybe I already knew.

They found Cassie’s body. She’s dead.





Chapter ten





The rest of the morning was a blur. Cassie was dead.