Ah, shit. “You know?”
“Just because you think you’re quiet doesn’t mean I don’t know everything that happens in that house.” He smiles, acting okay with it. Yeah, right. It’s just because I’m me. If it was Eli sneaking out… I see how he gets along with criminals. Gets on their side, earning trust.
“Your runs don’t usually end with you coming home in a reasonable time. And sometimes they involve your car.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, that may be true.”
We pull into Margo’s driveway, and he stops me from getting out with a hand on my shoulder.
“Seriously. We had the sex talk when you were fourteen. I don’t need to tell you to be safe, right? You’re smart enough to already—”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
He drops his hand, and I get out. Lenora’s car is in the driveway. Robert’s is probably at the junk yard… or in police custody. I didn’t see it, but I have enough mental imagery to last a lifetime.
Margo’s case worker arrives as we head up the walkway. Eli’s dad stops to talk to her, and I go to the door.
Lenora yanks it open before I have a chance to knock. “Caleb.”
She’s decidedly unfriendly.
I narrow my eyes. “Mrs. Jenkins.”
“Angela told me…” Her attention slides past me, to where Angela and Mr. Black are conversing on the sidewalk. “The charges were dropped?”
“I didn’t do it.” I stare at her, willing her eyes to come back to me. “I would never.”
She scoffs. “You seem to be the cause of a lot of heartache.”
“I can’t really do much about that unless you let me in to fix it,” I say quietly.
She only steps aside once Mr. Black and Angela are behind me.
The living room is empty. I glance into the kitchen, find that empty, and head up the stairs. My imagination runs wild. I walk down the hall to her room, and it stretches out in front of me.
Her door is cracked open, and it doesn’t make a noise when I nudge it open farther.
She’s… cleaning.
Shoving papers into drawers, straightening her books. Her small trashcan is in her hand, and she periodically shoves random things—a bauble, a paper, something that appears to be a seasonal decoration—into it. Her sheets are off the mattress, balled up in the center of the room. Comforter thrown on the floor. All her clothes are stacked in a pile on top of her nightstand.
Maybe cleaning was the wrong word. She’s doing more harm than good.
And she’s sniffling.
The whole room feels different. Like I left her one way, and now I’m coming back to someone new.
“Margo.”
She drops the trash and spins toward me.
Ah, my heart gives a nasty thump.
Her face is bruised. A few butterfly bandages are taped over stitches across her forehead—that gash was the source of a lot of blood. She probably has more injuries, but those are the only visible ones.
That, and the expression on her face.
I step toward her, and she steps back.
That’s not how this normally goes.
“You don’t think I had anything to do with this, did you?”
Her eyes widen, then skip to the window. I can’t help but notice it’s locked. A message if I ever saw one. I want to howl. Instead, I keep approaching. Her back bumps against the bookshelf—the very same one I found the spying figure on—and she freezes.
I relish the heat of her body, but I don’t touch her. I stop just a hair’s breadth away and meet her dark eyes. There are hours unaccounted for after the accident, and I would kill to give them back to her.
I force myself not to trace her jaw. To inhale the scent of her shampoo—because even that is off, tainted by the antiseptic smell of the hospital.
She’s breathing heavy, like me being in her room has stolen her oxygen.
This isn’t you, I almost say. This girl is scared—but she doesn’t need to be scared of me.
“Are you angry?” she blurts out.
Am I angry? “Furious.”
Now, I do give in to temptation. I drag my finger across her lip. It’s split, a little swollen, but she doesn’t move when I press on her lower lip, parting her pretty mouth.
Her tongue darts out, touching my thumb, and I grin. I’m getting harder by the second, but I think Margo knows what she does to me.
I lean down.
“I thought you might be happy to see me,” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “Caleb…”
“Matt told me where to find you. He’s a computer whiz—I know, he doesn’t seem like it—but he…”
Her whole face has drained of blood. I’ve never seen her so pale.
“Matt Bonner told you where to find me?”
I squint at her. “Yeah. He’s actually been helping me try to figure out who was behind the mermaid…”
She grabs my hands. “Caleb, stop.” She takes a deep breath, like she’s afraid to say this out loud. “Matt was the one who took me.”
My stomach bottoms out.
“What?” I misheard her.
She’s trembling, a leaf in the wind, and the way she’s looking at me makes me think… I’m the storm.
“Someone was with him. Someone he knew, but I can’t—”
“And you think it was me.” That stings.
“No, Caleb, I don’t.” Sadness.
Why is she sad?
“My memories came back.”
Oh fuck.
Margo
Past
Caleb and I were playing hide and seek, which required me to be extra quiet. I tiptoed through the house, planning on balling up under the sink in the kitchen. It would take him forever to find me, and I’d be victorious.
We weren’t supposed to be here, though. Lydia—Mrs. Asher—had taken us to the park, but she dropped us off about an hour ago and told us to play in Caleb’s room until she got back. There were only so many things we could do in his room, and he was sick of me touching his Legos. The puzzles were built. I wasn’t allowed to play video games, so that was out.
We were used to being let loose, and eventually, Caleb caved.
He still liked to listen to his mom, especially since we could hear his dad walking around downstairs. His dad got home shortly after us.
My dad was working. Mom was out.
Caleb and I had experienced an odd thrill of imminent capture when his dad got home. His dad wouldn’t just yell at us—he’d probably scream his voice hoarse at Caleb’s mom, too. But hide and seek was an excellent game. It was meant for devious kids like us.
And yeah, it may have been my idea.
There was an odd thumping noise coming from the kitchen.
Lowering myself down into a crouch, I kept close to the wall.
Upstairs, Caleb was probably counting as quietly as possible. I counted in my head, keeping track of my time. That’s how you were supposed to do it when being stealthy.
“Fuck, Amber,” a voice growled.
My whole body got icy.
I stopped just before the doorway and poked my head into the kitchen.
My mother… her bare legs were wrapped around Caleb’s dad’s hips. She sat on the counter—the same one she cooked on—like she was in pain. Her mouth was open. Eyes closed.