Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals, #1)(87)

“Keep going,” I tell Eli. Shock and dread twist through me.

He glances back at me. “What—”

“Keep. Going.” I can’t breathe. I’m automatically expecting the worst. I shouldn’t, because it’s Caleb. The man who reminded me that we were fake married, who reminded me that I loved him as a kid. Who...

Riley twists around. “Is that—”

“Yes. Eli, drop me at the corner.”

He groans. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

He pulls over, and I grab my bag, hopping out before they can advise against it.

“Keep your phone close, Riley. I’ll call you later,” I add.

She nods, and I slam the door. Eli drives away. I cut through the neighbor’s backyard, into the Jenkins’ backyard. I slip into the mudroom, crouching. There’s a door that leads into the kitchen, but I’m betting Caleb might be in there.

Sure enough, as soon as I press my ear to the door, I can hear what they’re saying.

“We appreciate you trying to be candid, Caleb,” Robert says. “But you haven’t quite told us why you’re trying to warn us about Margo.”

“And forgive us for thinking so, but we thought you enjoyed Margo’s company,” Lenora adds.

Warn them about me?

My heart hammers.

“I’m sorry for not being direct,” Caleb says. “It’s just that… I thought her and I were it. And then earlier today, she put out a private video trying to destroy my credibility.”

I cover my mouth with both hands. The bastard thinks I leaked that video? Like the picture, I’m sure he’s going to be lauded for it.

“So this is revenge?” Robert asks.

“Not at all. Honestly, I was going to let sleeping dogs lie. This just proves that she isn’t the girl I thought she was.”

Silence.

“Your daughter…” Caleb pauses. “She died in a car accident, right?”

“That’s right,” Robert answers. His voice is faint.

“My aunt liked to gossip,” Caleb says. “She said the car accident was caused by a drug overdose.”

“We’ve never hid that fact,” Lenora says. “She was troubled. That’s why we foster teenagers, because sometimes they’re troubled—”

“Was it cocaine?”

I wish I could see the expression on Caleb’s face. If he regrets what he’s saying. But I’d bet his face is the picture of innocence, because that’s who he is: a good fucking liar.

“The fact of the matter is… your daughter’s death is Margo’s fault.”

My heart stops.

“What? How?” Lenora demands. “Margo would’ve been twelve when Josie died—”

“Margo was the cause of her mother’s drug use,” Caleb says.

Each word is a dagger in my heart.

“And because of her parents’ split, Amberly had no choice but to resort to selling drugs. Cocaine, specifically. She sold it to anyone who had cash. College kids, high schoolers. She preyed on innocent lives because Margo—”

Lenora wails.

It’s a haunting sound. Chills break out across my body, and I really, really wish that I couldn’t hear it. I’d love nothing more than to scrub that noise from my brain.

“Margo’s mom was responsible for your daughter’s death,” Caleb finishes. “I thought you’d want to know who was sleeping in your home every night.”

I’ve heard enough.

I lift my bag and creep back outside. Hidden on the side of the porch, I pull out the newspaper clipping.

The headline reads: Isabella Jenkins in Fatal Car Crash Late Saturday night, Isabella Jenkins of Rose Hill, New York, was found in her flipped vehicle. Firefighters and EMTs pulled her out and brought her to a local hospital, but she was dead on arrival. Isabella has had problems with substance abuse, and doctors confirm that this was the cause of her accident. Her parents, Lenora and Robert Jenkins, request privacy during this difficult time.

That’s it.

A paragraph and a picture of the three of them. In fact, it’s the same photo that’s on their wall, the one that caught my attention my first day in their home.

And my mother was the one who put them there.

They’re never going to want me back now, because what Caleb said has to be true: my mom sold drugs to a teenager, and that teenager died. What’re the odds that I’m placed with their family?

It’s a sucker punch straight to my gut.

I heave my bag higher and run through the neighbor’s backyard. I don’t have anywhere to go, but I sure as hell don’t want them to find me snooping around their yard.

Not after that.

I get to the corner and grab my phone. It’s the first time I’ve looked at it since before the dance.

Riley was right: it’s blowing up. There are too many numbers texting me crude things.

I sniffle, but there’s too much shock to cry.

Caleb just...

My heart isn’t working right.

I sink to my knees at the curb as his words replay.

It hurts like a knife burrowing into my chest. I can’t stop it. I can’t fight him.

Let’s play a game, he told me. First to give in loses.