by S. Massery
“What do you want?” she asks. Her gaze goes to my foot blocking the door.
“To talk,” I say. “To Margo.”
“Hmm.” She stares at me for a moment. “You hurt her. Us. Tried to come between our family.”
“I did.” I roll my shoulders back, letting the pain radiate down my spine. It keeps me from getting distracted. “And I’m sorry.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “Tell me why I should let you in.”
“Who is it?” Robert calls.
She glances back and tells him, “Caleb Asher.”
She opens the door wider, revealing her husband.
“I think it’s best you leave, son,” he says. “After all—”
“Caleb?”
They both turn. Margo stands behind them, bare feet, sweatpants, one of my t-shirts. I tilt my head, wondering when she took that. But it must’ve been the day after the masquerade ball.
A lead weight falls into my stomach.
“Let him in,” she whispers.
Lenora frowns. “No—”
“You don’t have to,” Robert finishes. “It’s unavoidable to see him at school, but here? This is your safe place.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “I know you don’t get it, but he…”
Push and pull.
“I regret it,” I tell them. “It was none of my business. Just because I suspected, didn’t mean I had to tell you.”
Lenora swipes at her cheek. “It was heartbreaking. But not for us. We’ve done our best to put Josie’s death behind us. Our hearts broke for Margo, that she had—”
She shakes her head, looking back at Margo. I wonder if they’ve had this heart to heart before, or if I’m the catalyst.
Robert steps out of the way, waving me inside. “No use letting the heat out.”
I slip in and go to Margo, cupping her cheeks. Times like these, she wavers between fierce and ethereal. The girl I knew as a child lived up to her last name, but not now. I just need to pull her string until she unravels. Until she finds her center.
“Hold tight,” I say under my breath, and then I turn toward Lenora and Robert. They’re not going to like this. “I have something for you.”
They watch me warily.
I take the folded note out of my pocket, handing it to Lenora. “It was in the back of a picture frame.”
She shakes her head and doesn’t take it.
My hand hangs in the air, the note pinched between my fingertips, while I wait for her to move.
“How did you find it?” She crosses her arms. “There’s only one—”
“It’s a note from Josie.” I ignore Margo’s quiet gasp behind me.
Robert reaches out and snags it. “Give us a minute.”
I nod, taking Margo’s hand. I guide her away, up the stairs.
“What are you doing here?” she whispers. “I thought—”
I tap the last picture before her bedroom. The smiling Jenkinses. “While you were missing, I snuck up here. I was going to take this picture and see if I…” There’s not a good way to explain this. “I was going to show it to your mother and see if she remembered Josie.”
Her gasp is a knife between my ribcage.
“You know where my mother is?”
I look at her. “I did.” Now I don’t.
“Where is she?”
“She was at a motel.” I herd her into her room, shutting the door behind us. “She’s not anymore.”
She goes straight to the window, holding herself. Is she searching for her mother out there? Wondering if she’s watching, waiting for the right chance to take her back?
I get angrier by the second. Amberly doesn’t want Margo back—far from it. She still holds resentment for her daughter. Gave her away when she was ten, before her dad even got arrested. She just woke up and decided, I’m out.
And now Margo thinks she’s come back for her?
“Your mother is a drug addict,” I say. “She came for money and nothing else.”
She flinches like I hit her.
“She comes back every so often to beg at the shoes of the Asher family. Doesn’t matter who. Once we find out she’s in town, we do whatever we can to make her leave.”
She presses her hand to the windowpane. “Stop it.”
“I’m telling you the truth now, Margo. You asked for it.”
Stupid girl, chasing answers she has no stomach to withstand.
“And I’ve been trying to save you from it.” The words out of my mouth surprise even me. I’ve been trying to get her to remember. But this particular instance? Watching Lenora and Robert shaken over a note from the past, and then Margo’s instant grief at her mother being back in town?
Maybe I have a heart after all.
“What did the note say?” She glances over her shoulder at me. “I’m assuming you read it.”
I shake my head. I did read it—had to know what it was, if it was of any importance. And turns out, it was. Isabella ‘Josie’ Jenkins hid her last goodbye. “She got high and drove on purpose, hoping something would happen. She wrote that letter just in case she was right.”
Margo covers her mouth. “What?”
“So there went any blame laid at your mother’s feet.”
“Why did they call her Josie if her name was Isabella?”
“That, I don’t know.” I step closer. “You want answers, don’t you?”
“Sometimes I’m afraid of the answers I’ll find,” she admits. She inches toward me, too, until we meet in the middle of the room.
I lift her hand.
She’s wearing the bracelet.
My heart screeches to a stop. I can’t breathe.
“Why did you put that back on?”
“Because I won’t let you go,” she answers, meeting my gaze. “Okay? So do terrible things, and I’ve decided I’ll just hold on tighter. God, sometimes I hate you, but I can’t help myself.”
Triumph, plus something else. A white noise in my ears. Goosebumps.
I lean down and do what I’ve wanted to since I saw her this afternoon, pinned under me. I grab the back of her head and touch my lips to hers. She pushes up into me and deepens the kiss. I nip her lower lip. She groans, sliding her hands up my arms. Her fingernails scrape the back of my neck, into my hair.
She walks me toward her bed, and we both go down without tearing our lips away from each other. I hover over her. My dick hardens at her tongue stroking mine. I want to be inside her, foster parents be damned.
She lifts her hips, gasping into my mouth when she feels me. I shift, the head of my cock rubbing through our clothes. It’s too damn good, and it isn’t even the real thing. Her breathing changes, and I move against her. It takes all my willpower to stop myself from letting my dick take control. From tearing her sweatpants down and pounding into her.
I lean to one side and push my hand into her panties, sliding my finger through her wet folds. She arches into me, her head falling to the side.
“My—”
“Hush,” I whisper, my teeth grazing her earlobe. It’s been too fucking long, but I’ll have to wait a bit more. I work her higher, alternating between thrusting my fingers into her and stroking her clit.
She tucks her face into my neck, her whole body shuddering as she comes. She bites my shoulder, her fingers digging into my biceps. And then it’s over, and her body relaxes. She blinks up at me, frowning.
A fierce emotion goes through me—one that I’m not particularly familiar with—and it unnerves me. She’s dug her way under my skin, buried herself in my bones.
She reaches up and grips my chin, forcing me to look at her.
“Don’t do that,” she says. “Don’t hide.”
I watch her face. “I’m not.”
“You’re trying to hide,” she argues. “Don’t.”
I should’ve seen Margo’s transformation coming. I broke a follower—the sheep nickname we mocked her with—and she turned into a wolf.
Her phone buzzes, and fear flashes ac
ross her face.
“Who is it?” I ask.
She shrugs, pointing to the nightstand, and I roll over to grab it. Pain flares up my back when it hits the mattress, but I focus on Margo. I swipe open her phone, going to the messages.
Unknown: What will you do now that Caleb’s out of the picture?
I stare down at the words, then slowly scroll through the rest of the messages. They’re taunts, every single one of them. She replied occasionally, but never to any degree of success. I knew she was getting messages. I told her as much. But I didn’t know they were this extreme.
She grabs the phone from me, reading the message then clicking off her phone.
“You said you knew,” she says in a low voice. Now she’s the one leaning on an elbow, looking down at me. “But they seem to be operating on old information.”
I frown. “You’re right.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s my mom,” she whispers. “I don’t think I could take that right now.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, tracing her jawline.
“It could be Amelie. Or Savannah…”
I sit up, forcing her to move back. “Have they threatened you? Physically?”
Her eyes go wide. “N-no… do you think they will?”
“Tell me if the messages get worse. It could just be someone jealous at school, but if it isn’t…” It could be someone from my family. I wouldn’t put it past my mother or uncle to try to play mind games. But seeing them written out, my earlier suspicions are doused.
It’s too sporadic. Late at night and early in the morning. Midway through school. Whoever saw Ian taking Margo across the field had to be at school that day, had to send the picture to Savannah, who sent it to me…
“She was out of the country when I first got to school,” Margo supplies. “If your mind jumped to Savannah like mine did.”
I grunt.
“Margo? Caleb?” Lenora calls.
We both scramble off the bed. She smooths it out and perches on the edge, and I move to the window, trying to cool my skin.
Lenora opens the door, sticking her head in. “Maybe keep this door open when you have a boy up here, Margo?” She smiles, but it’s shaky. “And Caleb…”
I straighten.
She blows out a breath. “Thank you for the note. Although I can’t imagine how you found it.”
“He was going to show my mother the picture,” Margo blurts out. “To find out the truth. But then…”
Lenora comes in and sits beside Margo, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Robert and I talked, and we’re afraid that our past with Josie has affected our relationship.”
“It has,” I cut in.
Lenora glares at me.
“But, you should feel safe and secure in this house,” she continues. “You’re not going anywhere. I wanted to reiterate that.”
Margo sniffs. “Thank you.”
“Now, it’s late. And a school night. Caleb, I think it’s time for you to head out.” Lenora stands, brushing off invisible dust from her thighs.
Adults always do that, like a nervous habit.
I say adults, like Margo and I aren’t on the cusp of adulthood.
“Sure thing, Mrs. Jenkins.” I go to Margo and lift her hand. I ignore Lenora’s burning stare and press my lips to Margo’s knuckles.
Margo sucks in a breath, and it’s the last sound I hold in my mind as I walk back to my car. Even through the pain in my back and the heaviness in my chest. She’s worth it.
18
Margo
Lenora smiles at me, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “You forgive him, don’t you?”
“I don’t know when it happened, but yeah. I think so.”
She grimaces. “He looks at you how I always hoped someone would look at Josie. But he hasn’t always treated you well, has he?”
I shake my head. “Our relationship is complicated. But… I’m done letting him try to walk all over me.”
“Robert and I just want to be a good example for you.”
“You are.” I manage to give her a smile, but my heart is pounding out of my chest.
Caleb only just left—the distinct sound of his engine revving is unmistakable—but loneliness stretches out in front of me. Being dependent on him isn’t what I had in mind when I told him I wasn’t going anywhere.
She touches my cheek. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone. Get some rest.”
She rises and goes to the door, and something makes me stand, too.
“Wait,” I say. “What did the note say? Are you okay?”
“She apologized.” Lenora’s voice is faint. “And she said that the note was hidden in that picture because she was sure we’d try to erase her memory soon after her death—and then we’d get answers. Silly girl.”
“I’m sorry.” I bite my lip. It’s easy to feel like an intruder in a foster home. There are kids who came before me and after me, and each one leaves their mark. In a way, it’s comforting to know that I’m not the only one. That I won’t be the only one.
Here, there’s no echo of past children. There was only one foster child before me, and they aged out. Lenora and Robert never talk about them.
Just another mystery.
“It’s all right, honey,” she says. “Sleep well.”
Except sleep doesn’t come easily. I toss and turn all night, wondering about the marks on Caleb’s back. If someone changed his bandage—Eli, maybe—and if he’s hurting because of it. And when I do sleep, I have insane dreams.
My mom, half erased by time, stands at the foot of my bed. She eyes me with suspicion.
My dad in an orange jumpsuit, frowning at me.
I can’t move from the bed.
Caleb’s dad. He walks up to me and ruffles my hair. Crouches until we’re eye level. “Leave my son alone,” he says, and it echoes.
Leave my son alone.
My son alone.
Alone.
Alone.
My fingers sting. I lift them, examine them in the dim light. My nails are torn, and blood drips down my hands. A drop lands on my cheek, and I unfreeze.
I fall through the floor, into an office.
Angela sits across from me, behind a desk. “You can’t see him,” she says. “He was arrested.”
“B-but why?” I sob.
“He did something bad and now he’s paying for it.”
I don’t ask what he did. I don’t care. I just want my dad.
“Margo?”
I glance up at Angela.
“A new family is going to take you. We’re going there now.”
We dissolve into smoke.
A distant beeping sound drags me up. Up, up, out of the dream world and back into reality.
My eyes open, and I lie there for a second. I try to catch my breath. My heart is racing—so much that I can feel my pulse thundering through my body. Whether it was a dream or broken memories, it’s given me an idea. My dad holds the key. He’s the only one who might talk to me, give me answers.
What he did and what I did… they must be related.
I grab my phone, texting Riley to come early, and then shuffle into the shower. The dream slips away, as they usually do, but I can’t forget the sound of my own sobbing because Angela refused to let me see him.
I’m still getting dressed when Riley knocks on my door and steps inside.
“What’s the nine-one-one?”
I make sure the door is shut, then blurt out, “I had a weird dream.”
She rolls her eyes. “Really?”
“No—I think it was more than that. I was a kid sitting in my social worker’s office, and she wouldn’t let me see my dad. She wouldn’t even tell me what he did.”
She cocks her head. “I thought you said it was something drug related.”
I nod. “Yeah. I thought Angela told me, but I also remember seeing Lydia at a later point, and she mentioned it, too.”
“And Lydia is—”
&
nbsp; “Caleb’s mom.”
“Ohhh,” she says, exhaling. “I smell something fishy going on.” She sits on my bed, pulling out her phone. After a few minutes of frantic typing and scrolling, she exhales. “He’s been in prison since you were ten?”
“Yeah.” I gnaw on my lower lip. It has me unsettled this morning.
“That’s seven years,” she mutters. “Was it a felony charge?”
I stare at her.
“I’m just searching general sentencing,” she explains. “It’s confusing without knowing what he was charged with. But unless he was found with a lot of drugs…”
“He was arrested in a park,” I say. “He was with me.”
“What about his lawyer?”
My eyes widen. “Oh fuck.”
“What?” She drops her phone and stares at me. “Margo?”
“You remember when we went to the city? Me and Caleb?”
“Yeah…”
My legs give out. My knees hit my rug, and Riley reaches out. Her hand on my shoulder steadies me.
“How could I forget? We ran into a man—he was petrified to see Caleb… and then me. Caleb said he was my dad’s lawyer.”
“What the fuck,” she whispers. “You’re in the middle of a freaking conspiracy here.”
“I know.”
“What was his name?”
“Tobias. I don’t know his last name.”
“I could probably find from the media coverage on your dad’s trial…. Or not.” She flashes me her screen, and what she had typed into the search bar: Keith Wolfe trial.
No search results.
“How is that possible?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve heard that results can be removed from search engines. That would take a lot of time… or deep pockets. Maybe your social worker would know? Or Caleb?”
“There’s got to be another way. I’ll get on one of the school computers at lunch and see if I can dig deeper.” I slide on my shoes. “In the meantime, we just need to act normal.”
“Right.”
“Oh, and my mom is apparently in town,” I add.
Her jaw drops. “Maybe you should’ve led with that!”
I wince. I still don’t know how I feel about it. She’s in the same town as me—and if not Rose Hill, she’s definitely in the county. “She doesn’t want to see me.”
