Too much sometimes.
My mouth dries. Rose and Connor stand side-by-side, watching me.
“He didn’t have anywhere else to go,” I confess quickly, my chest concaving in heavy, petrified breaths. “I made sure to blindfold him here. I promise, he has no idea where this place is.”
I’ve wrecked everything. They’re never going to trust me again.
Rose raises her chin and takes my wrist, her touch more consoling than rough. She pulls me close to her, away from the door.
Connor reaches up to the top of the doorframe, a small key resting on the ledge. He uses it to unlock the door, and when he pushes it open, he points his flashlight cell at the room.
My stomach lurches.
Garrison sits on the edge of the quilted bed, a lamp shattered on the floor. Blood. I see blood. Spattered on the floor and trickling down the bottom of his heel. Garrison inspects his bare foot, a piece of glass lodged in the sole.
“Are you okay?” I ask and try to rush to his side.
Rose clasps my hand and tugs me back. “You’re not wearing shoes either, Willow.”
My stomach somersaults, but I stay put. Garrison avoids my gaze. Even with his head hung, I can see guilt caressing every inch of his frame. It’s okay, I want scream and shout. He didn’t mean to step on the glass. It’s not his fault this secret is spilled.
Hair falls over his eyes. “I tried to turn the lamp back on. I ended up knocking it over, and I…” He winces and attempts to remove the shard of glass in near darkness.
“Don’t,” Connor warns. “Rose, can you get a first-aid kit and check on Jane?”
Rose is already heading to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
The room tenses now that it’s just Garrison, Connor, and me. I scan the floor, wondering if I can Indiana Jones my way to Garrison without stepping on glass. Probably…not.
“One of you start explaining,” Connor says casually, shoulder propped next to the doorframe and arms crossed.
Garrison mutters, “I hid in the trunk.”
“He gave me his phone,” I add quickly. “This entire time. He hasn’t had it.” I rummage through the pocket of my overalls—thank goodness they’re deep. I hold up his cell. “See?” He can’t contact anyone and leak the location of the lake house. I go further and explain how I snuck him into my room, while they thought I was talking to my mom.
Rose returns with the first-aid kit, her nearly one-year-old daughter in her arms, and a pair of shoes are on her feet. “I want to talk to Daisy and Lily,” Rose says to her husband. Her piercing yellow-green eyes flit to me.
I’ve wrecked everything. “I’m so sorry, Rose—”
“I understand what it means to be loyal. But you shouldn’t have kept this from us. If you wanted to bring your boyfriend along, we could’ve worked something out.”
Boyfriend. Color drains from my face.
“Friend,” I clarify. Don’t look at Garrison.
“Would it make it better if we were dating?” Garrison asks.
My heart does a weird thump thump in my chest. Is he…no…I don’t know. My face is numb.
Connor says, “It would make it exponentially worse.”
Garrison’s lips shut and his head falls again. I just want to hug him. And it’s a weird feeling because I’ve never really yearned to touch anyone.
He’s not alone in this. It was both of our choice to sneak him here. Guilt swims through me all the same. I waver uneasily by the doorframe. “Can I explain…I want to apologize to Daisy too…?” Don’t cry, Willow. I push back tears and emotion. But I feel horrible for causing her distress. For her thinking there was an intruder in the house, something that I know ramps up her panic.
This was supposed to be a safe place.
Thankfully, Rose nods. “Follow me.”
We leave and find Lily and Daisy in Maximoff’s room. Lily bends over the crib with a rattle, softly talking to the giggling baby. Daisy lies on the ground, her white husky curled up against her. She strokes her fur in long waves.
Rose shuts the door behind me, and Lily asks, “Is everyone okay?”
“Mostly,” Rose says, then plants her gaze on me.
“I’m so sorry,” I begin, water pooling in my eyes. Daisy lifts her head off Coconut’s fur, confusion pleating her brows. And I just burst forth like a geyser. The truth flooding the bedroom floor.
I can’t stop.
Not until I’ve outlined, in detail, how I smuggled Garrison to the lake house. Why he needed a place to stay in the first place, which means divulging the truth about him flunking out of Faust. By the time I finish the story, my eyes have glued to the ground, unable to stare them in the eyes.
“And I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” I add quickly. “Especially you, Daisy. So if you’d like Garrison and me to leave the lake house, I understand—”