One of Us is Lying(70)

Cooper follows me, not bothering to get any food. We settle ourselves at the table and awkward silence descends until someone else approaches: Luis with his tray in hand, lowering himself into the last empty chair at our table.

“That was bullshit,” he fumes, looking at the empty space in front of Cooper. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” Cooper says shortly.

“You should eat something.” Luis grabs the only untouched food item on his tray and holds it out. “Here, have a banana.”

Everyone freezes for a second; then we all burst out laughing at the same time. Including Cooper, who rests his chin in his palm and massages his temple with his other hand.

“I’ll pass,” he says.

I’ve never seen Luis so red. “Why couldn’t it have been apple day?” he mutters, and Cooper gives him a tired smile.

You find out who your real friends are when stuff like this happens. Turns out I didn’t have any, but I’m glad Cooper does.





Chapter Twenty-Four


Nate


Thursday, October 25, 12:20 a.m.


I ease my motorcycle into the cul-de-sac at the end of Bayview Estates and kill the motor, staying still for a minute to check for any hint that someone’s nearby. It’s quiet, so I climb off and give a hand to Bronwyn so she can do the same.

The neighborhood is still a half-finished construction area with no streetlights, so Bronwyn and I walk in darkness to house number 5. When we get there I try the front door, but it’s locked. We circle to the back of the house and I jiggle each window until I find one that opens. It’s low enough to the ground that I haul myself in easily. “Go back out front; I’ll let you in,” I say in a low voice.

“I think I can do it too,” Bronwyn says, preparing to pull herself up. She doesn’t have the arm strength, though, and I have to lean over and help her. The window’s not big enough for two, and when I let go and step back to give her room, she scrambles the rest of the way and lands on the floor with a thud.

“Graceful,” I say as she gets to her feet and brushes off her jeans.

“Shut up,” she mutters, looking around. “Should we unlock the front for Addy and Cooper?”

We’re in an empty, under-construction house after midnight for a meeting of the Bayview Four. It’s like a bad spy movie, but there’s no way all of us could get together anywhere else without drawing too much attention. Even my don’t-give-a-crap neighbors are suddenly in my business now that Mikhail Powers’s team keeps cruising down our street.

Plus, Bronwyn’s still grounded.

“Yeah,” I say, and we feel our way through a half-built kitchen and into a living room with a huge bay window. The moonlight streams bright across the door, and I twist its dead bolt open. “What time did you tell them?”

“Twelve-thirty,” she says, pressing a button on her Apple watch.

“What time is it?”

“Twelve-twenty-five.”

“Good. We have five minutes.” I slide my hand along the side of her face and back her up against the wall, pulling her lips to mine. She leans into me and wraps her arms around my neck, opening her mouth with a soft sigh. My hands travel down the curve of her waist to her hips, finding a strip of bare skin under the hem of her shirt. Bronwyn has this unbelievable stealth body under all her conservative clothes, although I’ve barely gotten to see any of it.

“Nate,” she whispers after a few minutes, in that breathless voice that drives me wild. “You were going to tell me how things went with your mom.”

Yeah. I guess I was. I saw my mother again this afternoon and it was … all right. She showed up on time and sober. She backed off asking questions and gave me money for bills. But I spent the whole time taking bets with myself on how long it’d last. Current odds say two weeks.

Before I can answer, though, the door creaks and we’re not alone anymore. A small figure slips inside and shuts the door behind her. The moonlight’s bright enough that I can see Addy clearly, including the unexpected dark streaks in her hair. “Oh, good, I’m not the first one,” she whispers, then puts her hands on her hips as she glares at Bronwyn and me. “Are you two making out? Seriously?”

“Did you dye your hair?” Bronwyn counters, pulling away from me. “What color is that?” She reaches a hand out and examines Addy’s bangs. “Purple? I like it. Why the change?”

“I can’t keep up with the maintenance requirements of short hair,” Addy grumbles, dropping a bike helmet on the floor. “It doesn’t look as bad with color mixed in.” She cocks her head at me and adds, “I don’t need your commentary if you disagree, by the way.”

I hold up my hands. “Wasn’t going to say a word, Addy.”

“When did you even start knowing my name,” she deadpans.

I grin at her. “You’ve gotten kinda feisty since you lost all the hair. And the boyfriend.”

She rolls her eyes. “Where are we doing this? Living room?”

“Yeah, but back corner. Away from the window,” Bronwyn says, picking her way through construction supplies and sitting cross-legged in front of a stone fireplace. I sprawl next to her and wait for Addy to follow, but she’s still poised near the door.