The Devil Wears Black(73)

“Great. Looking forward to it.” Julian’s voice was too relaxed. Too blasé.

But I was too enraged to realize it was a trap.

Too goddamn rabid to know what I was willingly walking into.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MADDIE

September 25, 2008

Dear Maddie,

Today I found cigarettes in your backpack. Again. We had an argument. It was bad. You said it was a mistake. It’s not a mistake if you continue doing it. You must have a reason to repeat the same action over and over again.

Whether you want to rebel or get distracted or you simply got addicted.

It’s like the corpse flower that smells like rotten meat. It smells like this because it is rare and vulnerable, not by chance.

Every decision you make has a reason. Think about it.

Love,

Mom. x



This time, I didn’t lie to myself.

Didn’t fight it or deny it. It had a name. Mom had said it best in a letter years ago, when I’d tried smoking when I was going on fifteen. It was an addiction.

When I saw Chase’s name on my caller ID, I picked it up on the first ring. When he invited me to the ranch, ready to launch into a convincing speech, I cut off his arsenal of arguments and promises and accepted immediately. The carnal need to be there for him nearly paralyzed me. I knew, with certainty that bubbled in my veins, that it didn’t make me Martyr Maddie.

It made me someone who cared deeply for Chase and didn’t want to see him fail.

Layla was going to have a field day when she found out I was still playing with the devil. But knowing what I knew about Julian, about Amber, I felt responsible for Chase where they were concerned. Besides, our lie to his family was so big at this point it loomed over everything, my conscience included. It was a rolling snowball, growing larger each time it spun, swallowing objects and feelings and victims—Ethan, Katie, Clementine—as it descended an endless mountain of dishonesties. Even though I knew the snowball was going to hit something and pop at any minute, I couldn’t stop it. Coming clean didn’t seem like an option anymore. I accepted this was something Chase would have to deal with once he lost his father.

We arrived at the Lake George ranch early Friday evening.

The nineteenth-century stone building sprawled on a good portion of the ten-thousand-acre land the Blacks owned. The entire second floor was bursting with green double-doored balconies. Ivy curled up the building, the backdrop of the lake making the property one of the most magical things I’d ever witnessed with my eyes. The sun sank lazily toward the horizon, the sky surging with various shades of gold and pink.

I must’ve sucked in a breath when Chase helped me with my suitcases, because he glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. “This one’s Dad’s favorite. The Hamptons is Mom’s playground.”

“Which one’s yours?” I asked, not fully realizing what I was insinuating.

He stopped walking, shooting me a charged frown. “You.”

He dropped my bags. There was a moment when I thought he was going to wrap his arms around me and kiss me. I wanted him to do that. Badly. But he just shook his head, getting rid of whatever it was he was thinking about.

“Don’t let me seduce you,” he growled.

“Okay.” We continued walking. “Why?”

“Because once I have you again, it will be impossible for me to let go. To let you be. To respect your decision.”

He hoisted my duffel bag over my spinner suitcase, taking my hand in his free one. The charade was back in full force.

We made it to the landing. Voices seeped from the dining room. Laughing, talking, whispering. Utensils clinked. Wineglasses too. We frowned at each other.

“Julian,” Chase clipped, his jaw tightening. “Must’ve told everyone we were running late and to start eating. Douche.”

“It’s time you put him in his place.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He glowered at me. “I let him off the hook because our parents, sister, and Clementine shouldn’t suffer through what I want to put him through.”

We made our way into the dining room, leaving the suitcases on the landing. The long table was fully hidden under platters and dishes. Fresh rolls, pitchers of sweating homemade iced teas, and bottles of wine were scattered on the pristine white tablecloth. The scent of smoked meat and seasoned vegetables laced the air. Saliva coated my mouth.

“Oh goodness, please tell us that story again. I cannot believe Clemmy said that!” Lori gushed.

“Start from when she walked in.” Amber’s tone was buttery, different. “When she saw the empty fish tank.”

“All right, all right. I’ll tell it again.” I heard Ethan laugh.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back it up. Ethan?

I didn’t have the privilege to be able to turn around and run for my life. I was already halfway inside the dining room when it registered. Chase was a step ahead of me, shielding me with his broad body, my hand still clasped in his. I felt the floor soften beneath my sandals, threatening to open its jaw and swallow me whole. My eyes connected with Ethan’s from across the table. Snakes danced in the pit of my stomach, sinking their venomous teeth into my insides.

He was there, sandwiched between Clementine and Amber, holding a glass of white wine to his mouth, wearing a Puppy Dog Pals tie.