Everything We Didn't Say(59)
“Of course they are! The Tates fit everywhere they go.”
I couldn’t disagree more, but I don’t have a chance to say anything more because Sullivan catches sight of us and comes to sit on our blanket. Ashley scoots over to make room for him and within seconds is regaling him with stories of the weekend. I burn with shame on her other side, trying not to catch Sullivan’s eye and wishing that he would just leave us alone.
It’s my abject avoidance of Sullivan that allows me to see the exact moment that Dalton Tate walks past my brother. He lays one hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, and without saying a single word the two of them move off into the darkness. The older brothers follow.
I’m stunned. The familiarity between Dalton and Jonathan is startling enough, but the fact that the four of them disappeared together makes my stomach flip. I want to chase after them, to figure out what in the world is going on, but when I glance over at Sullivan to see if he’s about to take off too, I find he’s already watching me.
He cuts his chin to the side so slightly I doubt that Ashley even notices. But his intention is clear: no. It’s his eyes that I can’t understand. Sullivan is not amused or flirtatious or cunning. His expression is raw and unmistakable. It’s filled with regret, and something that makes my blood run cold: fear.
CHAPTER 15
WINTER TODAY
Juniper had to drag Willa out of bed on Monday morning, and then practically light a fire underneath her to complete every step of her before-school routine. If Willa would have tolerated it, Juniper would’ve gone so far as to drag a brush through her daughter’s long, dark hair, and spoon-feed her oatmeal while she half slept at the table. But the bathroom door was resolutely locked, and though Juniper wheedled and made vague promises that she hoped Willa found enticing, it was after eight o’clock when the moody thirteen-year-old finally emerged. Her face was scrubbed pink and her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, but Juniper wondered if she had remembered to brush her teeth. No matter. Willa was dressed and presentable, so Juniper thrust a granola bar at her and ushered her out the door.
“We’re going to be late,” Juniper muttered as she shut and locked the front door behind them.
“Whatever.”
“Okay, I’m going to be late.”
“What’s Cora going to do, fire you?”
Juniper rolled her eyes at Willa’s back. “That’s not the point.” She rummaged in the front pocket of her backpack for her car keys and nearly mowed Willa down when the girl stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk. They both stumbled, and Juniper dropped her keys in the snow. “What the—”
“Look,” Willa said, her tone brittle as the February air.
“At what? Seriously, Willa, my keys are buried in eight inches of snow. A little help here?” Juniper crouched down and plunged her bare hand into the snowbank to retrieve them. When she turned her attention to her daughter, she saw what Willa was pointing at.
The tires of her car were flat. And not just flat; they had been slashed.
Juniper had never seen a slashed tire before, but the six-inch gashes in the otherwise smooth rubber of the two passenger-side tires were a dead giveaway. Pushing past Willa, Juniper hurried to the driver’s side. Those tires had been slashed, too. Her first, visceral emotion was fury. Tires were expensive. She could count on two hundred dollars a piece, plus the cost of a tow… The numbers ticked higher in her head even as she began to realize that she was more scared than angry.
Someone slashed her tires. Juniper’s vision spun for a horrifying moment and she put both hands on the hood of the car to steady herself. Violence was always shocking—a reminder that nothing was as it should be—and Juniper couldn’t help but recoil at the thought of someone plunging a knife into the tires of her car and tearing. Methodically, viciously. One by one. And Juniper doubted that the job could have been accomplished by a run-of-the-mill kitchen knife. This was the work of a weapon. Something saw-toothed and evil.
Juniper had been asleep only a few feet away. Willa had been. The reminder that her daughter had been curled up and oblivious beyond a window that could easily be seen from the driveway made Juniper’s stomach pitch. Needing to ground herself in reality instead of the wrenching worst-case scenarios that were playing like a string of horror movie scenes in her mind, she reached down to run her thumb over the jagged line of split rubber. Juniper didn’t flinch when a tiny wire pierced her skin. The pain helped. She could feel her heartbeat in the place where a line of blood quickly bubbled to the surface, and without thinking, she stuck it in her mouth.
“Are you hurt?” her daughter asked, reaching for her.
Juniper hadn’t realized that Willa had followed her around the vehicle.
“I’m fine,” she said, balling her hand so Willa couldn’t see the cut on her thumb. Juniper tried a smile; it didn’t work.
“Who did this?” Willa looked very young in the pale morning light. She had raked back her hair unevenly and her ponytail was lopsided; her bottom lip trembled just a little.
Juniper thought about saying that it was an accident. But that was ludicrous. “I have no idea,” she said honestly.
“What if…”
“Don’t.” Juniper put her arm around Willa and turned her away from the car. “Let’s not speculate. It was probably just some kids. We’ll walk to the library and see if we can borrow Barry’s car.”