Blank.
I screamed, didn’t I?
Blank.
If I didn’t scream, did I get in the car? Go with her willingly? Give up on my family?
Blank.
Blank.
Blank.
Present
I wake with a start. Pink walls. White curtains. Flowers a foot from my face.
A dream—maybe more real than not?
There are gaps in my memory. I think they’re bigger than I realized.
“Who is Unknown?”
I roll over, gasping.
Ian sits on the edge of my bed, facing away from me. He has my notebook.
“Well, I think the point of the name Unknown signifies your lack of knowing who they are. Unless they call themselves Unknown? Hmm.” Pen scratches the paper as he writes something. “Why is Caleb set on ruining my life?”
“Why are you in my room?”
He glances back at me. “Technically it isn’t your room.”
“You’re prying.” I get off the bed and circle around it, stopping in front of him. “Give it back.”
“I’m most curious about this question. Why is Caleb set on ruining your life?” He taps his pen on his lip. “Dare I answer?”
“Knock yourself out.”
“You ruined his life first,” he reasons. “At least, that’s the way my parents explained it.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“What part of that was confusing?”
“The part where your parents were talking about it.”
He chuckles, setting the notebook down next to him. “Ah. Caleb’s aunt and mine are second cousins.”
“Holy shit. You’re related? I didn’t—”
“Distantly,” he says in a tone that ends all of my other questions.
He stands, and I take a quick step backward.
That door really needs a lock.
“You think he won’t come here searching for you?” Ian walks to the door.
Does he realize that by standing in the doorway, he cages me in? Boys like him have all the power. I shouldn’t be taken aback by that.
He’s still watching me, and I realize he asked me a question.
“He might,” I admit. “He’ll probably search high and low for me.”
Ian scoffs. “Well, I guess that’ll put you in a predicament tonight.”
“What’s tonight?”
“Party.”
Of course. It’s Saturday.
“We just had the ball,” I protest. “And you’re hosting a party? Here?”
He shrugs. “Yep.”
It must be a desperate bid to cure his loneliness. He’s all alone in this big house for the whole winter. I’d get lonely, too. And lonely people do dangerous things.
The predicament must be whether or not I’ll show my face. “Is Caleb going to be here?”
He smirks.
I groan, throwing my hands up. “You couldn’t have warned me before—”
“Before what, Wolfe? Before you got settled?” He looks pointedly at my bag by the door. “You didn’t even take off your shoes.”
True. It’s a runaway kid habit. Be ready to go in an instant.
I shake my head. “There’s not even a lock on the door—”
“You can hide out in my room.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Just imagine if Caleb found you? How pissed he would be.”
He’s positively gleeful.
I narrow my eyes. “You’re not going to tell him?”
“Probably not.”
I groan and leave the room. I don’t trust Ian. Not that I particularly trust anyone at the moment, but Ian and Caleb are at the top of the shit list. I was hoping to go to bed early tonight, sleep in, and then figure out how the hell my mother was involved with the Jenkins’s daughter. If she was involved.
If I can find her, then I can prove her innocence—and in turn, my innocence.
The Jenkinses will take me back.
Ian follows me down the hall, back into the kitchen. I open the fridge.
“By all means, make yourself at home,” he says. “There’s enough meal-prepped shit in there to last a month.”
I stiffen. “What?”
“Mother Dearest makes sure I’m taken care of over the winter.” He leans against the island, watching me. “A chef comes in and prepares meals once a month. It’s a big ordeal. Time consuming. The whole house stinks like a restaurant for at least three days after.” He pauses. “Margo?”
I blink and take a quick step back. I froze, I think.
“Mom was a personal chef.” I clear my throat.
“I know.”
I glance at him. “Is that why you said it?”
He scowls. “No. I said it because it’s the truth. Why? Do you need things sugarcoated?”
“No.” I grab an apple out of the bottom drawer and take a bite. “It just took me by surprise.”
“That we have a chef? Completely different from your mom, wasn’t it? I mean, you guys lived in the Asher guest house. I’ve heard the stories. How she catered to Mr. Asher’s every whim—”
I chuck the apple at him.
It hits him in the chest, juice splattering on his shirt. He catches it before it falls, then shakes his head at me.
“Where’s your sense of self-preservation?” My face is getting hot.
“You just need a dose of reality, since Caleb refuses to acknowledge it.” He takes a bite of the apple, winking at me. “So anytime you want to face the truth, let me know.”
He tosses the apple back at me and strolls out of the kitchen.
“Wait,” I blurt out. “My mom…”
He stops in the doorway. “Yes?”
“How much do you know?”
“Definitely not as much as you wish I did.” He laughs. “I’d love to lie and say I could tell you what’s lost in your memory. But even I don’t know exactly what happened in the Asher house.”
My lips part. “How…?”
“Did I know you can’t remember?”
The one thing I respect about Ian is that we can talk about this fucked-up situation without pity or sympathy. He doesn’t show any emotion except faint amusement. Amusement doesn’t bother me. It’s everything else that tends to get…
Suffocating.
“You wouldn’t let Caleb near you with a ten-foot pole if you knew the truth,” he says, not waiting for my answer.
He leaves, and I stare down at the apple in my hands. My appetite has fled, along with my sanity.
I don’t know where the hell my mother is—but now I’m even more convinced that she’s the one with the answers. Step one: find her. Step two: hope her mind hasn’t deteriorated enough to give me some goddamn answers.
And there’s Tobias, too…
So many freaking questions.
Plus the leaked video, and Caleb’s betrayal, and Ian decided to throw a party.
I set the bitten apple on the table and go back to the pink room. I flop on the bed and consider Ian’s words. Slowly, I toe off my shoes, letting them fall to the floor.
You wouldn’t let Caleb near you.
My head pounds. I drape my arm over my eyes, blocking out the light.