“Do you think she really had daddy issues?” I ask, remembering him saying that the other night.
“She wanted his approval, and he spoiled her, big time. He liked me well enough, but I got the feeling he thought I was just trying to get in her pants.” He swallows. “Which I was—sometimes, but that wasn’t the basis of our relationship.”
“Had you two really not had sex in months?” I ask, knowing it’s incredibly intrusive.
He shakes his head. “Trust me, it wasn’t my idea. At least not at first, but then the longer we went the more I realized I didn’t exactly care. Like I said, I was distracted, and it’s becoming more and more obvious she was too.”
I pretend he’s not looking at me and stare out the window. He drives past the Waller house, circling toward the forest. He pulls off on an old dirt road and we get out.
“So you’ve done this before?” I ask, creeping along behind him.
“A couple times.”
The front of the house is well-lit, and we quickly skirt around the edges of the yard. Rose’s bedroom is in the back. There’s a small balcony off her room, which is set to face Thistle Bay. The tree I’m supposed to climb is at the corner of the house with a long branch that hangs near the balcony.
“Seriously? That’s the tree?” I’m already reconsidering. Heading back to the car to wait seems like a good idea.
Finn grabs my hand and grins down at me. “Oh, no, you wanted to come. No backing out now.”
He darts across the yard, dragging me with him. We get under the tree and he turns around. “Get on my back.”
“What?”
“There’s no way you can reach the branch on your own.”
He bends slightly and despite the fact this whole thing has turned ridiculous, I make a running leap and jump on his back. I land hard and he encourages me to get on his shoulders. On wobbly knees, I use the trunk of the tree to stabilize myself, then fully stand where I can reach the branch.
“Can you swing up?”
I heave myself with my arms, managing to get up, shaking the limb the whole time. My heart pounds, and I refuse to look down, but I’m able to scooch down the branch and hop onto the balcony.
While I catch my breath, Finn easily swings his arms and leaps in the air, catching the branch with both hands. Two seconds later he’s swung his leg over the limb and jumps onto the balcony next to me. He brushes off his hands and smiles.
“Show off,” I mutter.
He chuckles softly and opens the balcony door. Sheer curtains block the glass and we push through into the flowery scent of Rose’s bedroom. Finn walks across the room and turns on a small lamp next to the bed and I find myself frozen.
It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been in this room, and I’m surprised at how little it’s changed.
The walls are still a soft pink and the bed is the same four poster that takes up half the room. There’s a vanity, the surface covered with makeup brushes, eyeshadow palettes, mascara wands and more. The mirror has pictures tucked into the corners. I see her and Finn smiling at the homecoming game last year, the two of them on the beach, and dressed in tacky Christmas sweaters. There are more photos of her and Juliette, including a few where they’re on a boat. The bathing suits are the same as the ones from the photos in Ezra’s guest room. More pictures of Coach Chandler with his arm around both girls, the Claddagh charm nestled against Rose’s collarbone. There one of the girls standing on the back of the boat, getting ready to jump in. Mr. Baxter stands near him, his tanned skin seeming to glow in the photo. His smile is genuine and warm. The pang in my stomach is less jealousy and more wistfulness. I’m sad I missed out on sharing those events with them—I’d been relegated to a spectator at best, an enemy at worst.
I turn away and see Finn already rummaging through a few drawers, then entering her massive closet. I spot the tall bookshelf against the opposite wall. A row of familiar black and red books catches my attention.
“Wow, she still has her Audrina Dollanganger books.”
“What?” Finn asks, his voice muffled in the closet.
Audrina Dollanganger had been our favorite author when Rose and I were in middle school. They're gothic novels, filled with creepy families and their creepy houses. All the families had secrets, usually one focused around the main character—always a teenage girl. The books were deranged, but addictive, and we’d spent two years reading them over and over, hiding them from our parents, sure they’d take them away if they realized they were filled with steamy, forbidden romance.
I pull out the first book in the Eden series—our favorite. Eden had a tragic life. Her mother died in childbirth. Her father loathed her. Her stepmother was abusive. One night her father crept in her bed and tried to have his way with her—she fled—taking only the family bible with her. She searched for the names her birth mother wrote in the family tree. She found them; wealthy, educated, distinguished, but in the end, she discovers is the reason her mother fled in the first place. It was another home filled with lies and abuse.
Rose and I loved these books because they were nothing like our own lives. Sheer fantasy and completely forbidden. Eden didn’t have parents that loved her.
I flip open the cover to look at the interior design, each an original drawing for that book. A small card falls out, landing on the floor at my feet. I pick it up.
“What’s that?” Finn asks.
“I don’t know.” I look down at the plastic card, first thinking it was a credit card or gift card. Flipping it over I see the words, East Point Suites.