by S. Massery
He moves, sliding across the ground, and I almost topple again. I quickly readjust my feet and keep going, until branches reach for my hair and clothes, snatching at me. I don’t stop until we’re both in the thick of it.
When I finally stop, we had to have gone ten feet, maybe less. But it’s enough.
I stand and step over him, fighting my way back through the underbrush. Once I’m out, I suck in a deep breath. My heart races out of control. I’m covered in sweat. And my cheek fucking stings.
But I’m okay.
“Self-defense,” I whisper.
I unknot my dress and smooth my hair. There are some leaves in it that I have to pick out, and I run my hands down my arms for good measure. I can probably slip inside the house and clean myself up before anyone notices.
And that’s exactly what I do.
The party still rages closer to the house. I slip around the edges, keeping one eye on Wilder and Amelie. The DeSantis guards don’t seem to notice me.
It bolsters my fear, even if it should have the opposite effect. What if they’re pretending? If they heard the whole thing—or, worse, they knew what was going to happen and let it?
I tiptoe into the house, up the grand staircase to the bathroom on the second floor. I shut myself in and turn on the light.
My face is pale. There’s a bit of dirt smudged on my neck. Blood is caked under my nails and in the pads of my fingers.
Flashes of memories assault me. A young Lucy Page sitting on her bike, watching a man die in front of me.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I’m good at not crying. I grit my teeth and deal with the burn, and the lump in my throat, but I don’t let it go any further than that.
I shake my head and turn on the hot water. Steam billows out of the faucet, but I barely notice the burn. It isn’t until my hands are completely clean that I shut it off. I rub at my face and neck with a washcloth. There’s a bruise forming on my neck, but I don’t remember him grabbing me there. I undo my hair and shake it out, flipping it forward over my shoulders.
“Lucy?” my sister calls. She knocks on the door. “Are you in here?”
I gulp and wipe under my eyes.
“Yes.” I sound normal.
She opens the door and slips inside, leaning against the door. She lets out a laugh. “I’ve been trying to escape Mom and Dad for a while. I saw you come in and figured it was my chance.”
I lean my forearms on the counter and hang my head. “Just slowly dying.”
I wince at my own phrasing.
She pats my arm. “Well, you can wait here while I pee.”
“Gross,” I offer.
She laughs and hikes up her dress, and I stay where I am. After a moment of near-silence, she says, “That dress is beautiful on you.”
“Not as beautiful as that one on you,” I murmur.
Her dress is all gold, a shimmering satin that molds to her body, with gold lace and tulle and beading. She seems like a goddess.
And me… her hand-me-down is eggplant purple that fades down to black. It has a high front that wraps around my neck. There’s a little hole cut out in a diamond shape, revealing a patch of skin between my breasts. The back is open down to just above my ass save for a few criss-crossed ties, and the skirt falls straight to the floor. A slit that comes up to my hip helps me walk—and helped me tie it up earlier.
I glance down. The dark color hides anything nefarious. No blood or dirt.
“Wilder is kind,” she says.
I can’t tell if she’s trying to assure me or remind herself.
“Amelie—”
She flushes and bumps my hip with her own. “Let’s not talk about this, Luce.”
I step out of the way. She washes her hands and dries them slowly.
“Are you okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. Totally.”
“As your sister, I can read you like a map.” She narrows her eyes. “Did someone say something? Mom?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I just… I’m overwhelmed. Can you make up an excuse for me if I head home?”
She purses her lips and stares at me. She’s probably trying to do sibling shit, like read my mind, but I’ve perfected the art of an indifferent mask. It might’ve been a different story if we grew up together, but…
“Okay,” she agrees. “I’ll see you later.”
“Or tomorrow. I think I’m going to go to bed early.”
She squints, then nods. “All right.” She reaches forward and draws me into a hug.
I’m so surprised, I can’t move for a moment. My back throbs where her hands press into my spine. I hug her back, though, and then pat her until she releases me.
“Have fun,” I say. “Go drink all the wine you can get your hands on.”
She laughs and opens the door. I follow her downstairs, but then our paths deviate. I go to the front, nodding to one of the men standing there. The door shuts behind me, and a weight lifts off my chest.
Free, if only for a moment.
Since I came with Amelie and our parents, I have no way home except my own two feet. I contemplate calling someone, but I’m not that desperate. So I ignore the new bite to the air and head out, striding away from the DeSantis estate quickly. There’s a walking gate beside the one for cars, thankfully unlocked from the inside, and then I really am free.
I walk for ten minutes when I realize I’m too far for my own good. My feet hurt, my thighs chafe. I’m not the sort of girl who’s meant to be in a dress for this long. Even if Rose Hill is an innocent place, I could still get kidnapped.
Or worse.
I shiver. It’s that thought, plus the images of that man falling backward, and his blood on my fingers, that force my hand. I pull out my phone and dial a familiar number by memory.
Last time I called, he threatened to block me.
But it rings through, and there’s a slight click. A hitch of breath.
The bastard answers and doesn’t say anything.
I suck my lower lip between my teeth. Then, “Hypothetically, if I was arrested for committing a crime, would you lie and be my alibi?”
“What sort of crime?” Theo’s voice is buttery warmth in my ear.
“Something bad. The worst you can think of.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You don’t usually call me for hypotheticals.”
I glance around. The street is deserted, but it doesn’t help my paranoia. “Well, now I am.”
“Where are you?”
“Walking home.” It’s dark and cold, and part of me is just glad to be speaking to someone, even if that someone is Theo. I don’t know what possessed me to call him, other than a niggling sensation.
“Walking home in the dark, asking me if I’d be your alibi.” He pauses. “Not suspicious at all, Lux.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. I’m hanging up.”
“You do that.”
It isn’t nearly as satisfying to tap the red end button when he’s expecting it—or even worse, agreeing to it. In fact, it downright irks me. He didn’t want any more details? He’s nosier than me when something intriguing is dangled in front of him.
Theo and I have had a push-and-pull relationship since we met in middle school. One thing has remained constant in my life, even when everything else fell to shit: Theo and I make great enemies.
Wind lifts my skirt and hair, both billowing out behind me. I should’ve taken a sweater or jacket, but this afternoon was practically balmy. It’s the end of summer, after all. Amelie will remain at home. I’ll start community college. Everyone else will move on.
She feels stuck. An awful, sticky trap sort of stuck.
I feel… alone.
That sort of lonely carves out pieces of your soul and leaves them on the ground as breadcrumbs.
Maybe I should’ve let that man touch me, just so I would know what it felt like. I’ve never been ashamed of my virginity—in fact, I usually wear it with honor. But now, my stomach turns. It could’ve been gone in a s
nap of my fingers. Literally. Something I’ve put my pride in, held up like armor, is flimsy. Fragile, even.
But I’m not fragile.
This is where the heroine of the story breaks down.
Cries about her bad deeds, the guilt. The murder.
I’ve got nothing inside me, so I keep walking.
2
Lux
A car turns onto the street I’m on.
I instinctively step deeper into the shadows. Until…
Well, fuck.
The car slows to a stop beside me, and the blacked-out window rolls down. Theo’s gaze rakes over me, up and down. From my windswept hair to the dress, to my shoes. Then slowly back up to my face.
“Get in,” he orders.
I take my own time appraising him. Summer has been busy. I went with my grandparents to Florida and almost threatened not to come back. One last hoorah as a graduation present before they move into their shiny new independent living apartment. He doesn’t look much worse for the wear, though. Cut jaw, piercing eyes. His dark hair is a bit longer on top than it is on the sides, pushed back. I’ve always wanted to run my fingers through it, but I resist.
“Get in the fucking car.”
I smile. His crazy is a black smudge on his soul, and I always seem to forget how much I crave it until I see it again. But tonight… I’ve had enough hands-on activities to last a year.
I circle around his car and slip into the passenger seat. It takes a minute to gather all the bits of my dress and arrange them so I’m not flashing Theo, then gently close the door.
He doesn’t move.
“What?” I meet his gaze.
“You’re beautiful,” he says quietly. Then, “Stop looking at me like that.”
I narrow my eyes. But really, I have to wear an odd expression. He just… he just called me beautiful, and this is the first compliment he’s ever given me. Out loud, anyway. I’ve felt his gaze burn my skin before. Felt his want. But he’s never given in to any urge to say it.
My stomach twists. This is so not the night for this.
“I’m not,” I manage, belatedly realizing he’s still waiting for a response. A denial I happily give.
He rolls his eyes and puts the car in drive. “You are. You’re looking at me like you don’t know me. Your beauty took me by surprise, and I’m sorry if that offends you.”
I cross my arms. “I’m not offended by my own beauty. I’m offended it took you this long to notice.”
He laughs.
I smile, too, and relax into the seat.
Isn’t it weird, how you can be yourself with your enemy?
Something occurs to me, and I straighten. “How did you find me?”
He turns onto my street. “I tracked your phone.”
Fucking hell. “How long have you been doing that?”
“I don’t know, maybe a year or two.” He smirks to himself.
“You’re kidding.” I twist toward him. “You can’t just track my phone without permission. That’s an invasion of privacy.”
He doesn’t respond. He rarely justifies himself. Pretty sure it comes with the air of entitlement and money his family is drowning in. So I hunt around for a subject that might bite him.
“How’s Will?” I ask.
His fingers tighten on the wheel.
William Alistair, Theo’s older brother. He had a fling with a girl from Theo’s school, caused a massive uproar, and promptly left the state. He’s probably doing big things over in Los Angeles or something. No one knows. It might be Hillshire County’s best-kept secret.
“Let’s talk about this hypothetical of yours.”
I sigh. “Let’s not.”
He pulls the car over with a jerk of his hands, skidding to a halt. I catch myself on the dash, then glare at him. He just slams it in park and flicks on the overhead light. And then, seeming to rein in some of his anger, he flips my hair back.
“Theo—” I don’t have time to react. To get away from him.
He grabs my jaw and moves my head to the side, exposing the bruise on my neck. He stares at it, and I wait in silence. His anger climbs. It’s thick between us, written in the cruel way he holds my face. It’s like he can’t contain it inside himself anymore.
“Who did this?” he growls.
“No one.”
“Lux.”
“Hypothetically, they might be lying dead in a bush somewhere.” My voice has no emotion in it. I’ve separated myself from the act.
He freezes and tugs my head back around. I meet his gaze and raise my eyebrows.
“I can’t decide if I want to throttle you or kiss you,” he mutters. He releases me. “I’d cover for you.”
I flinch. “You’re supposed to say you’d bring me to the police station yourself. You’re supposed to—”
“To, what, be a morally just white knight? Or worse, do something just to spite you?” He snorts. “No. You killed someone who touched you? Good. If you hadn’t, I certainly would. I’m not nice, Lux, but you and I… We’re in this together. Whatever this is.”
I stare out the window, not sure what to do with that information. I mean, would I kill for him? Probably. Did I ever imagine he’d actually tell me he would kill for me? Hard no. And we’re in this together? Sitting around a campfire singing, or blood oaths, or—
“We’re fucked up.” My brain hurts.
He laughs.
“Bring me home.”
“Fine,” he says. He navigates back out onto the road.
He doesn’t ask if I’m okay. He doesn’t even look at me as I fix my hair again, covering the bruise. It throbs when I push my finger into it, testing its limits. My skin crawls as I picture the man’s unseeing eyes for the thousandth time.
I might just have nightmares about it.
“He tried to rape me,” I say. “Well, that’s where I assume it was going.”
“Don’t.”
I wince. “Don’t what? Justify what I did?”
“Don’t fucking tell me what he almost did to you. I’m barely hanging on by a thread here.”
I glance over at him, shocked. He’s right—he’s furious. His ears are red, a telltale sign of his anger, his mouth set in a hard line. Every muscle in his body seems tense.
See, if we liked each other, I’d try to make it better.
But… I do enjoy prodding the angry bull.
So I continue, “He told me my parents wanted pictures. Or a photographer, maybe. I don’t remember. There’s a little path that goes into the woods, and I followed him down it. I thought, like an idiot, that no one would hurt me at my sister’s engagement party. A house full of Mafia men. We’re supposed to be protected.” I laugh. “And then he yanked me off the path, shoved me up against a tree.”
I touch my cheek. It doesn’t hurt much, just the phantom sensation of his palm.
“Lux.” His voice is strangled.
“He slapped me,” I force myself to say. “Then tried to get at…”
“Stop.”
I press my lips together and just replay it in my head. Hitting him with the glass. Kicking at him. The slow-motion fall backward.
We arrive at my house, and I glance at Theo one more time. He seems about ready to explode. I scramble out of the car and hurry up the walkway. I fumble with my key in the dark but manage to slide it into the lock and twist. The door opens for me.
I step inside and turn to slam it closed, but Theo is there.
He forces me backward, kicking the door shut behind him. I narrow my eyes but allow him to guide me all the way down the hall. He’s herding me, really. We reach the kitchen, and he flicks the light switch.
I cringe in the sudden brightness.
“You’re not the flinching type.” His eyes widen. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“Turn around.”
My cheeks heat. “Fuck that. You can’t just order me around.” I step forward and push at his chest.
Mistake.
He captures my wrists and reels me in closer, then manually spins me. We both go still when his finger traces down along the edge of my spine.
I shiver.
“You’re bruised here, too,” he whispers. “You said he led you down a path. At Amelie’s engagement party?”
“The one and only.” I ignore the tremor in my voice.
“And what did you do with him?” His finger still traces back and forth on my skin.
I hate that my body reacts to him. I sway, ignoring the heat between my legs. The way I desperately want to lean back against him. He’s called me obsessed before, and he’s not wrong.
“Once I realized he was dead, I dragged him into the underbrush.”
He chuckles, and his breath touches my neck. He’s a lot closer than I gave him credit for. He inhales and runs his nose up into my hair, just behind my ear, and then he steps back. Away. I’m immediately cold, but… his anger seems to have fled, too.
“I didn’t want to get caught.” My voice is defensive. I face him again. “I don’t know who he is. If he’s a DeSantis, and they find out I killed him, Amelie’s marriage will be in jeopardy. My parents always accuse me of ruining things—I can’t ruin this.”
He watches me without emotion. Well, that’s a lie. There are plenty of emotions going on behind Theo Alistair’s mask, but sometimes I’m not privy to them. Sometimes I don’t want to know.
“Good thing you have an alibi,” he says. “Go shower. If anyone asks, which I highly doubt they will, I picked you up and we came back here. I left just before your parents got home.”
All I can do is nod, but I don’t move until he leaves.
And the only thing I can think is, What the hell just happened?
3
Lux
“Wake up!” Amelie pounces on my bed and crawls over my legs. She flops beside me. “You were already awake, weren’t you?”
I shrug. “I’ve been up for an hour, tossing and turning.” I spent that time trying to convince myself last night didn’t happen, and subsequently reliving every moment of it. From trying on Amelie’s purple dress to getting in the car, drifting around the edge of the party. The man.
