Chapter Four
Where do people go when they die? Somewhere down below or in the sky? ‘I can’t be sure,’ said Grandad, ‘but it seems they simply set up home inside our dreams.’— Jeanne Willis
Annie
Tank brought me back to my room and then said something about sparring down in the basement. He was so comfortable in this house, and yet I was the one who had lived here.
Who had a room here.
And I still always felt like I was an interloper.
Even though everyone treated me like family.
My room was the same, a dark navy blue with spouts of white on the walls, a gorgeous sitting area by a fireplace, and my own outdoor balcony.
I blamed that balcony for everything, so I gave it a wide berth as I slowly put my clothes away.
My eyes fall upon the cute pair of jeans I’d bought and the crop top that I’d been brave enough to purchase only because I’d had two full glasses of wine with my aunt before she took me to get new clothes.
Her idea.
She loved spending Chase’s money; she said so every time she swiped.
And maybe, just, maybe she knew that I felt too guilty to do said swiping, so took it upon herself to make sure it was used.
Both items still had tags on them.
Sad that I would probably never wear them.
“You’re wearing that.” Izzy’s voice fills the room.
“Agh!” I dropped the clothes. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
She waved me off, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. “Stop being dramatic. If I was trying to give you a heart attack I’d just inject you with one of the handy needles we keep in our cases, stops your heart instantly doesn’t even leave a mark, genius really—” She stopped talking, probably because I’d felt my body sway as all the blood drained from my face. She scrunched up her nose. “Sorry, I tend to get too detailed.”
“It’s okay.” I put a shaky hand to my chest. “Just not used to all the casual killer talk.”
“Meh, you’ll get there one day.” Her blue eyes lit up. “Okay so, I’m pretty sure Tank has the hots for you. He wouldn’t stop talking about picking you up the other day, which is weird since Ash was the one who— You know what? Never mind, Ash is an idiot; we don’t count him in this scenario.”
“Definitely not.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Plus, he hates me with every part of his soul, and that’s a direct quote, mind you.”
She winced. “He said that? Out loud?”
“Yup.” I refused to let it bother me even though it was kind of impossible not to. I mean, it was never fun hearing how much someone hated you despite trying to save his life.
Boys were weird.
That one in particular.
I took a deep breath. “Anyway, this is a fresh start, and I like Tank. He’s… hot, and we’ve been friends since…” I frowned. Did I tell her? That it had been longer than just college? That that part had been a carefully constructed ruse by Tank himself to infiltrate?
“Since last year.” I lied, hoping she wouldn’t see through it since I was one of the worst liars ever. “Anyway, I just want to forget about—all of it.”
“And by all of it, you mean Ash having a nervous breakdown and throwing chairs in our pool or all of it being him making out with you a week after Claire died only to push you away and blame you for her death?”
I was quiet for a minute as my emotions rolled around in my chest, colliding with each other, wreaking havoc. “All of that.”
“Good!” She jumped to her feet. Her purple Jordan high tops were matched with ripped jeans and a loose T-shirt; out of all the girls, she’d always had the most relaxed style.
Last year she said it gave Maksim easy access.
This year?
I still hadn’t seen him. And she hadn’t talked about him.
So I assumed Maksim was either murdered by Chase or warned away.
And since she wasn’t sobbing, he was probably just threatened with a beheading.
Typical Chase.
Izzy jerked the tags off the clothes and tossed them to me. “Trust me. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you, plus this is your first family dinner since up and leaving without telling us. You need to look hot. Now, where’s your makeup?”
“Why? Do you need some?”
She snorted. “Uh, look at me? Do I look like I need makeup? I’m a damn masterpiece. No, I mean for you.”
“Oh, I have some on—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there. You have very little on, and while it looks natural and pretty, I want you to look like you just walked off the runway. Tank will love it.”
And maybe even Ash.
No!
See! This was the reason I hated watching TV. The girl almost always fell for the asshole when he had zero redeeming qualities!
Plus, how did you even begin to navigate a relationship with a guy who only saw his dead fiancée when he looked at your face?
You didn’t.
You couldn’t.
It was irreparable.
And it was my fault.
“Hellloooo.” Izzy snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Makeup bag. Now.”
“Over there.” I pointed to my carry-on. “Just don’t make me look crazy.”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes and snatched the bag. “I’m a damn professional at this point.”
“You’re twenty,” I reminded her.
“Exactly. Makeup tutorials are my life.”
“Okay…”
“Yes!” She pointed to the bed. “Sit.”
“Is, um, Maksim coming tonight?”
Her smile fell, and then her face was back to its neutral self. “Maybe, maybe not. But say his name again, and I’m going to make you look like a street whore on a bad acid trip, understood?”
“And to think I always imagined Serena as the scary one,” I mumbled, giving my shirt a nervous tug while she stood proud in front of me.
Izzy grinned. Her smile dazzling like always. “Oh honey, when I grow up, I’m gonna make the world shudder in fear every time my Jordans’ slam against the street.”
“Ummmm.”
“Now hold still.”
I was too afraid to move anyway.
Chapter Five
If only we could know the reason why they went. We’d smile and wipe away the tears that flow… And wait content.” —Author Unknown
Ash
It was going to be the longest family dinner of my life.
What was supposed to be a small surprise party for Annie with just our family turned into my mom calling all the bosses and using the excuse of the whole bomb thing for them to meet at the house.
After all, what better way to celebrate taking apart a bomb then over pasta and bread? I was currently sitting between Junior and Serena because last time they sat together, Nixon nearly took off Junior’s head; something about Junior’s hand down Serena’s pants made Nixon grab his gun even though they were basically married already in their own heads.
It took four men to take the boss down.
And Junior had paled to the point of being unrecognizable after getting caught.
Come to think of it, that was a good night.