What Lies in the Woods(80)

We held on to each other until the last strains of the final hymn faded. After the recessional, as everyone gathered up their things, Cass tugged me in close for a hug.

“Will you come by the house? We’re having a small gathering,” she said. I didn’t have to ask to know that the house meant her parents’ place, not hers. Her eyes cut over to Ethan, who had been pulled into conversation with Marsha in the pew behind us. “Friends and family only. I don’t think a reporter—”

“I understand,” I said. Ethan would be nothing but respectful, but it was the last thing anyone needed today. And things had been odd between us since Cass’s visit to the motel, a moodiness settling over Ethan that I hadn’t seen before—and that served to remind me how little I actually knew him. “I’ll drop Ethan off at the motel and come right over?”

“Yes. Good,” she said.

“Mom?” Amanda said. “We’re going now.” She gave me a neutral look, like she was trying to remember what she thought of me. She looked so much like Cass at that age—the same wheat-colored hair, the same slender nose and big eyes. Eleven years old. Exactly the same age we had been that summer. It made my breath catch.

As Cass moved away, Amanda went with her, sneaking one last glance back at me. I gave her a quick, friendly smile and then joined Ethan as we trailed out of the church.

Halfway to the exit, I caught sight of Cody. He was standing with an older couple I vaguely recognized as his parents, along with a heavily pregnant, elegant-looking Latina woman I assumed was his wife. He saw me and lifted a hand in greeting, and his wife turned to look at me. Her eyes widened a little in recognition—I was rather distinctive, I supposed—and she broke into a dazzling smile, waggling her fingers in a wave before turning back to the conversation.

That was not a reaction I was used to. The open-mouthed oohhhh of recognition, the borderline leering interest, the instinctive disgust, those I’d gotten to know intimately over the years. A smile that bright usually wasn’t meant for me.

“I’m going to drop you off,” I said. “Cass’s folks are hosting a gathering—a reception, I guess? I’m going to go.”

“And you’d rather go alone,” Ethan said.

“It’s not that I don’t want you there,” I said quickly.

“But for everyone else, I’m not going to be Naomi’s boyfriend Ethan, I’m going to be Ethan that nosy podcast guy,” he said.

“Is that what you are?”

“A nosy podcast guy? Only when I’m working,” he said.

“My boyfriend.”

“Ah.” He squinted off toward the road. “Slip of the tongue. What would be more accurate? Paramour? Gentleman caller? Booty call?”

“I like gentleman caller,” I said, and decided not to think about why boyfriend sounded so appealing. We got into the car, and I started up the engine. I idled a moment while an elderly woman made her slow way past the back bumper.

“That was an interesting speech Cass gave,” Ethan said.

“It was good,” I said. “I thought Cass would sugarcoat things, but it was honest.”

“I thought it was interesting that she never mentioned you,” Ethan said carefully. “If you didn’t know the whole story, you would think that something terrible happened to the two of them, and you didn’t even exist.”

“It’s not about me. It’s about Olivia,” I countered. Ethan shrugged. “What? You think Cass is cutting me out?”

“Why weren’t you invited to speak? You said yourself that you and Olivia talked multiple times a week. So why is Cass the ‘best friend’ and you don’t even warrant a mention?”

“This isn’t about getting credit,” I said. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m just thinking … I don’t know. You’ve been gone a long time. Who you are to these people might have changed. Or it might never have been what you thought.”

I thought of Meredith Green’s anger, Marcus’s restrained hostility. I’d been an outcast all my life, until I almost died. Then Chester had embraced me—but had they? Or did they only want the story of the girl who survived and not the prickly, troublesome person inconveniently attached to it?

“Cass can be a bit tricky, but she’s one of my best friends,” I said. The last one living.

“You’re the one who thought she might have lied about seeing Oscar,” Ethan pointed out.

I ground my back teeth together. “And?”

“You don’t think that anymore?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I couldn’t tell what I thought at this point. “Maybe I’m just seeing things that aren’t there.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Ethan said. “And in your position, I’d be asking myself if that friendship of yours goes both ways.”

We’d reached the motel. I slammed on the brakes harder than I needed to, glaring at him. “I would not have survived without Cass,” I said.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be grateful that she found help.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” I said. “I’m talking about after. I could barely function, much less talk about what had happened, and it was all anyone wanted from me. She protected me. She was eleven and she did a better job of getting in the way of reporters and busybodies than my own dad. Liv and I were both falling apart, and Cass held us together with her bare hands and sheer force of will.”