Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Whatever,” she scoffed. “I don’t hear complaints from my boyfriend.”
My smile froze, and the mood shifted abruptly. Her attempt at a joke landed like a dropped anchor.
Of course she didn’t hear complaints from her boyfriend Ansel. She was probably the first girl who’d ever touched his dick, and he was hopelessly in love with her. When—not if—he got down on one knee and proposed, she’d say yes and pretend to be excited, but I suspected she’d die inside.
Ansel Farber was an okay guy, but he was awkward in every sense of the word. The only attractive part of him was his pedigree. Like the Hales, the Farbers were old money, and Jillian’s father thought he could buy that kind of clout if he married his daughters into it.
I sat up straighter in my seat and let seriousness fill my voice. “You need to break it off with him before things go too far.”
I’d brought this up a few times before, and at this point in the conversation, she usually told me to mind my business or that it was already too late. The deal was done in both of their families’ eyes. She would eventually be Mrs. Jillian Farber.
But today her tone was light and airy. “Don’t worry, I’m handling it.”
I perked up in surprise. “You are? How?”
“Forget about it. I’m taking care of it.” Her tone made it clear this was something she couldn’t talk about. Perhaps Ansel or her sister were nearby. “Back to our wager,” she said. “Can I trust you to tell me if you lose the bet?”
“I’m not going to lose, but, yeah. You can trust me.” Sometimes I wondered if we were the only people in Cape Hill we could trust.
“Okay, good,” she said. “So, if you fall off the celibacy wagon into a pile of women, I’ll hear it from you first before Sophia.”
Because Sophia Alby was all-seeing, all-knowing. Gossip traveled fast through our small town, and all of it seemed to flow through her. Concealing anything from her was hard before, but impossible now that she was dating my father.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“Good luck, Vance. You’re going to need it,” she teased. Then she announced she had to run, and the call ended.
I’d relayed the entire conversation to the police, only watering-down the specifics about the bet I’d made with her. They’d focused on Jillian’s state of mind during the call and pressed me about her cryptic comments regarding Ansel, but I wasn’t much help.
Sophia hadn’t heard a word about them breaking up, and he’d been a wreck since the discovery of The Trident. So, tonight I lay in my bed and speculated what she’d meant when she’d said she was ‘handling’ breaking up with her boyfriend. Why had she sounded so carefree and happy? It was like the weight of her family’s expectations were no longer crushing her.
Maybe she’d planned her escape.
The thought made ice crawl along my spine, and I refused to consider it. There were a dozen ways out that didn’t end with her willingly stepping off the bow of her father’s boat and into the deep.
I was your friend. You could have come to me.
Jillian and I weren’t in love and had never been, but we cared about each other. I would have found a way to make it work if I were her only option. Didn’t she know that?
I needed someone to talk to. With Jillian gone, Royce was my first choice, and Marist my second, but they weren’t here at the house this week. Marist was six months pregnant, and Royce had surprised her with a babymoon to Fiji.
I couldn’t bother them with this.
I glanced at the screen of my phone again. It was possible my insomniac father was awake at this hour, but what the fuck would I say to him? I’d been avoiding talking to him for so long, reaching out felt . . . impossible.
Not to mention, selfish. He’d made attempts, and I’d brushed them all off.
Despite that, my thumb swiped over the screen, bringing up his name in my contacts. I held my breath as I readied to tap the button—
A high-pitched wail shattered the air.
It was so loud, the sound of it hurt my ears and made my mind go blank. A notification popped up on my phone, alerting me that the house alarm had been triggered.
“No shit,” I yelled, but couldn’t hear my voice over the painful siren.
My pulse spiked as I launched up out of my bed. What had set off the alarm? Had someone tried to break in? My gaze flew to the door. There could be intruders in the house. It took a moment to remember there was a panic room concealed behind a false wall in my father’s old room. Should I head there?
Fuck, it was hard to think over the ear-bleeding sound.