“Are you staying here for a while?” I query politely, adding some … caramel chocolate marshmallow creamer? … to my coffee and missing the fresh milk from back home. Our neighbor had cows, so we always had the good stuff in the glass bottles with the cream on top.
Maxx gives me a wry look, his mouth quirking up sharply at one corner.
“You’d like to me to leave, I’ll bet,” he whispers, turning on the sink to help drown out his voice as he pretends to handwash a mug. “Or maybe the kidnapper would like that?”
I stir my coffee with quick, angry motions. This idiot thinks he’s helping but in reality, he’s trying to get us all killed!
“You’re right: the kidnapper told me he’d kill Parrish if anyone flapped their big mouth. So maybe can the bullshit, X.” He looks askance at me, but my face is stoic and stern. He can’t discern if I’m serious or not which is sort of the point.
Like I said: this is all one, long, complicated game. Each move matters. There are no restarts or continues, no extra credits or lives to bargain with.
I finish my coffee quickly and off we go, fighting our way back through the reporters and heading toward Whitehall in near complete silence.
“I’ll be picking you guys up after school, too,” X adds after a while, shifting in his seat like he’s a bit uncomfortable. I glance his way as we pull up to a stop sign and find him watching me curiously, trying his best to put the puzzle pieces together. He’s wearing a loose tank today that shows off the impressive muscles in his arms and chest. Apparently, wrestling a two-hundred-pound bike takes upper body strength. “You said you wanted to join the search party tonight?”
The question surprises me for a minute before I remember him telling me that he could arrange a meeting with my sister today.
“I’m in,” I agree, feeling this huge surge of relief at the thought of seeing Maxine. At the same time, I’m wondering if the move puts her at risk of Justin’s wrath. This man knows everything Dakota. He didn’t start a game that he wasn’t damn near certain he could win. Maxine’s in danger whether you see her in person or not.
When we pull into the white gravel loop out front of Whitehall Preparatory Academy—I’ve since learned that this spot is generally reserved for the students in the lowest social standing—I see Chasm waiting with his back pressed against the towering stone walls.
He’s smoking a cigarette, but he puts it out as soon as he sees me, tossing the butt into a nearby can.
“Thanks for the ride,” I blurt, scrambling out of the Jeep so quickly that I almost stumble. Chas catches me, holding my elbows as I regain my footing. He glances over my shoulder as Kimber joins us, giving Chas’ hands on my arms an irritated look as she passes by.
“About last night …” Maxx starts as I look back to see him watching us. “I’m sorry, Chas. I’m just worried about Parrish.”
Chasm sighs and releases me, ruffling up his black and yellow hair.
“Me, too, man. Me fucking, too.” He sounds tired, the expression on his face tight and wary. No surprise considering the day we had yesterday, but I feel like there’s something else.
His dad. That’s gotta be it. I messaged Chasm on Facebook to let him know where to find his phone, but he never replied.
“You forgive me then?” X asks, trying to play up the question with a cocky smile. He can’t quite hide the hint of need in his voice though, this little thread that tells me he truly cares what Chasm thinks about him.
“I always do, don’t I?” Chas retorts dryly. X smiles, giving the two of us one, last studying look before he rolls the passenger window back up and takes off. “We might have to tell him,” Chasm adds, surprising me.
“Tell him?” I query back, giving Chas a skeptical look that he returns with a raised brow of his own. “I thought the whole point was to ensure that he never found out.”
“I’m worried he’s going to dig a hole he can’t get himself out of,” Chas muses, leading us toward the front doors of the school. I reach out to touch his arm and he shrinks back from me.
That’s not a good sign.
I stop walking, alarm bells going off in my head.
“He hit you, didn’t he?” I ask, and Chasm balks at me.
“What … how would you even make a jump like that? Maybe I just don’t like the idea of my best friend’s girlfriend putting her hands all over me. Did you ever think of it like that?” He turns away from me, but I’m not done.
Once I get a theory in my head, it’s hard to shake it.
