Tell Me Pretty Lies(17)

“So, what’d you do last weekend?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant as I make my way over to the fridge. I pluck the pitcher of water out and pour myself a glass. “When I got home, your car was gone.”

“Oh, nothing special. Just had some stuff to do,” she says, not meeting my eyes, followed by her signature sniff. “What about you?”

I slam the pitcher down onto the counter, none too gently, causing her to flinch. I can’t exactly call her on her lie. That would incriminate me. I was supposed to be at Valen’s house. “Really?” I prod, ignoring her question. “Nothing at all?”

She meets my eyes, suspicion finally creeping in. “What I do in my free time is adult business.”

I scoff. Adult business? “I’ll bet it was,” I quip, my innuendo clear.

“Shayne,” she scolds, looking at me as if she doesn’t recognize me. That makes two of us.

I reach down for my backpack, taking everything out except my notebook and a couple pens, then I swipe the throw blanket off the back of the couch and stuff it inside the backpack before zipping it up. I shrug it on one shoulder and head for the door. It’s not that I care what she does, but if she’s planning to move us in with some new guy, I’m going to have to figure something else out. I’m not moving again.

“Where are you going?”

I turn and look at her over my shoulder. “What I do in my free time is adult business.”




By the time I make it to the barn, it’s starting to get dark, and I kick myself for not having the foresight to bring a flashlight. The one on my phone will have to do. Lifting the rock, I scoop up the key and make quick work unlocking the padlock. These woods never used to scare me—probably because Thayer was always with me—but now, alone right before dark, I’m a little on edge.

I close the door behind me, instantly feeling safer, calmer, now that I’m inside. I close my eyes and inhale, taking in the familiar scent. Of everything from my life before, I think I miss being in this place most of all. And the person who was here with me.

I shake away the thought, walking over to the couch. I drop my bag onto the floor and fish out the blanket before spreading it out over one side of the couch. Turning on the flashlight on my phone, I prop it up on the cushion, then retrieve my notebook and the first pen I touch. I try not to think about the fact that the couch is full of dirt and dust, or that this place has probably become home to God knows how many bugs and critters.

I sit down, tucking my legs underneath me, and I start to write. And write. And write. I write to my brother. I write to Danny. I write to my mom and Grey. And I write to Thayer. I fill pages and pages of all the things I never said—of all the things I’ll never say. And it’s not until I’m done that I notice a tear rolling down my face. I bring two fingers to my cheek, collecting the moisture before rubbing my thumb and fingers together until they’re dry. I don’t think I’ve allowed myself to cry since the night of the funeral…for so many reasons. I didn’t have the right, and more than that, I was afraid once I started, I wouldn’t stop.

Reaching over, I pick up my phone and check the time—ten forty-six—and notice not only that my mom has called several times, but my phone is clinging to life at one percent battery. “Oh my God,” I whisper out loud, shoving my notebook and pen into my backpack. I opt for leaving the blanket. I’ll come back for it tomorrow.

I rush for the door, ignoring the pain that tugs at my nipples from the movement, and click the padlock shut. Holding one arm across my chest, I sprint through the woods I know so well, hoping like hell my flashlight will last until I get back to my house. I don’t make it more than ten feet before that hope dies and I’m blanketed in darkness.

“Fuck,” I curse, trying in vain to turn it back on, but, of course, it doesn’t work. I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. “Calm down, calm down, calm down,” I chant to myself in a whisper. You’ve walked this path a thousand times. You can do this. I take a single step, and a twig snaps from somewhere behind me. I freeze, whipping around. I can’t see anything, but the darkness has made me more aware of every sound. I wait for long seconds before chalking it up to a squirrel or something, but when I start to walk again, I hear a different noise. This time, it sounds like leaves crunching, and it’s coming from somewhere in front of me, off to my left. Rustling from my right has my head snapping in that direction, wishing I wasn’t stupid enough to lose track of time without a flashlight.

Before my imagination can run wild, I take off, sprinting toward my house once more. I hear footsteps behind me, picking up speed to keep up with my pace, and that’s when the panic starts to set in. It’s not an animal. These are people. As in, more than one. I go as fast as my legs will carry me, panting with the exertion. I can hear their footsteps getting closer, and when I finally get the courage to look behind me, I don’t see anyone. I stop, surveying my surroundings, half-wondering if I’m going crazy. But when I turn back around, a dark, shadowy figure stands right in front of me.

“Boo.”

I scream, my heart plummeting into my stomach, but hands fly out, one covering my mouth, one cradling the back of my head.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Thayer? I try to force my eyes to adjust. I can’t see his face, but I know it’s him. I can tell by his voice. His scent—tobacco and pine.