“This is depressing,” I mutter as we make our way back along a path worn through the grass. Three figures approach on the path, two men and a petite woman, backlit by the setting sun. We’re probably the last people to visit today, as I don’t see anyone else.
“It’s a cemetery,” Dixie says. “I think the point is to be depressing.”
A chill works its way through me, and I clutch the bouquet we bought on the way here to my chest. This could have been the end result last year. It almost was. A few more minutes in that pool, and it would have ended differently. If her mom had gotten home five minutes later, if she’d hit two more red lights, if she’d fed the dog first when she walked in the house, if she’d put away the groceries before looking for her daughter. I try to imagine how I’d feel if I had to visit that girl’s grave, and another shudder wracks my body, making me clutch the flowers even tighter.
The three figures step into the shadow of the church, revealing more than their silhouettes, and I lurch to a halt. One of them is Devlin Darling.
My heart stutters in my chest, and the world sways under me. He wasn’t at school today, so I haven’t seen him since the not-accident yesterday morning.
Beside him, a petite blonde girl clings to the arm of a tall, gorgeous guy with piercing blue eyes and tousled blond hair. The girl’s eyes are red and puffy, as if she’s been crying. The guy on her arm looks somber, as does Devlin. But when Devlin’s eyes sweep over us, they harden to flint.
“Dixie Powell?” says the blond guy with the somber face. His expression breaks into a big, friendly grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling and the sober surroundings apparently forgotten. He pulls his arm from the petite blonde and wraps Dixie in a big hug.
She looks like she’s about to faint, and I swear she swells to twice her usual size with the pride of being recognized by the hottie.
“I told Linds that Willow Heights must have poached you,” he says, pulling back and shooting Devlin a mock glare. “Bastards.”
“What are you doing here?” Devlin grinds out, glaring at Dixie as if he can’t bear to look at me. A handful of tiny white petals dot one shoulder of his navy jacket, and his hair is tousled by the wind. I tear my eyes away from him, looking at the couple beside him. I don’t recognize them from Willow Heights.
“Today’s the anniversary of her death, right?” Dixie says, shrinking back to her usual size beside me.
Anger flares inside me, but I keep my mouth shut and try to ignore Devlin as thoroughly as he’s ignoring me.
“You didn’t even know her,” Devlin says, yanking the flowers out of my arms. “Neither of you. Go home.”
By now, Dixie’s shrunken even smaller, down to the sniveling dog I met on my first day. “Do you own this cemetery?” I ask, swiping for the flowers.
Devlin holds them out of my reach. “Tell me her name,” he says, his eyes boring into mine.
“I don’t know her name,” I say flatly. “I’m here to support my friend. That’s it. Now, if you don’t own this cemetery, I suggest you get out of our way, because this has nothing to do with you.”
Devlin stares at me incredulously. “Nothing to do with me?” he asks. “She died at my fucking house, Crystal. And people like you want to make a spectacle of it by parading by, shedding your fake tears and pretending to give a fuck when you can’t even bother to learn her name. It’s Destiny. And she’s not a sideshow.”
He drops the flowers on the ground and steps on them as he shoves past us and walks away.
The blonde girl is crying again, clinging to the friendly boy’s arm. He gives us an apologetic shrug and picks up the flowers, handing them back. They’re broken and dirty, but I take them just the same. Dixie seems frozen in place, all the color drained from her face.
“Sorry,” the blond guy mutters, and he puts an arm around his girl and leads her away, following Devlin.
“You okay?” I ask, turning to Dixie.
She nods, swallowing hard. “Thanks. I can’t believe you did that for me. You’re a good friend, Crystal.”
“Rules of friendship,” I say with a shrug.
“First rule,” she says with a weak smile. “Have each other’s backs.”
“You wanna just leave?” I ask, taking her arm. I knew this was a bad idea, though I had expected family to be there, not Devlin Darling.
Unless he is family. Shit.
I swallow the fist lodged in my throat and glance over my shoulder. The only car left in the lot is Royal’s.
“No,” Dixie says. “We brought her flowers. It’s not like we’re just here to gawk.”
That’s exactly what it’s like. Devlin’s words cut to the bone—because they’re true. Dixie didn’t go to Willow Heights last year, so she didn’t know the girl any better than I did. We came simply for the sensational gossip.
Did you hear…