“Oh, my God!” she declares, pulling back so she can look me in the eye. “I was so scared. When I couldn’t get ahold of you, I thought…I thought…Jesus, I don’t even know what I thought.”
I smile sheepishly. “Sorry. I should’ve checked my phone. I thought it was just Saint blowing it up, so I ignored it.”
“Bet he’s gonna love that,” Gabe murmurs.
She shoots him a glare. “He doesn’t need to know that, does he? It’s none of his damn business.”
“Agree to disagree,” Gabe smirks. “Where his girl’s at, especially when she’s being threatened by a pack of wild vaginas, is most definitely his business.”
“She’s not his girl!”
“They sure fuck like she is.”
“Hey, Loni, maybe we should go out to the beach?” I say, deciding to shut this line of conversation down immediately. Why do they still sound like they’re flirting while they’re fighting? Why would these two be flirting?
I can’t wrap my mind around it, and I’m not really sure I want to.
Loni looks at me with a furrowed brow and nods. “Of course. Anything you want. Lead the way.”
I hop down from my barstool, thank Gabe for the food, and then make my way out the back of the house with Loni close behind. We make our way out past the back patio onto the beach and come to a stop once we reach the edge of the water. I sit in the sand and Loni settles in next to me.
“So, are you really okay?” she asks.
I sigh, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my chin against them.
“I’m not going to lie, I was terrified. I really thought they might kill me for a moment while it was happening. It was dark, and I couldn’t tell how many of them there were. I-I …”
Loni reaches over and grabs my hand, and it’s only then that I realize my voice is shaking and I sound like I’m on the verge of a breakdown.
“I’m so sorry, Mallory,” she says, shaking her head. “As soon as I found out, I tried to warn you, and when I couldn’t get ahold of you, I went to find Saint. He was already planning on hunting you down. I think Rosalind had given him a heads up, and I thought he’d get to you in time…”
Now she’s the one who sounds on the verge of a breakdown. I wrap my arms around her and hug her tight, and we just hold each other for long moments.
“I think this is all karma catching up to me, Loni,” I finally mumble.
Slowly, she pulls back and frowns at me. “What are you talking about, Mallory?”
I shake my head and look away from her. “I think I might deserve everything bad that’s happened to me, that’s what.”
“Why the hell would you say that?” she demands. “Mallory, you don’t deserve—”
“I do,” I insist. “You don’t know…what I’ve done.”
“I’m here if you need someone.”
Maybe I should tell her. Maybe—just maybe—it’ll help. At the very least, I think I owe her something. After everything she’s gone through because of me, she deserves at least part of the truth.
She should at least know why the universe is punishing me over and over.
“The truth is… that fire in Georgia? It was my fault. I set it, and nothing good has happened to me since.”
13
I check my phone for probably the millionth time, but there’s still nothing from Loni. It’s been two days since my ocean-side confession to her about the fire back home, and I think I shocked her pretty bad. She didn’t say anything to me that night at Saint’s after I told her what I did, just stared at me with wide, stunned brown eyes. Before I could try and get a response out of her, Saint had shown up, storming onto the beach to demand I speak with him.
I’d apologized to Loni and gone with him, partly because I knew he wouldn’t let up otherwise, but also because I was scared of what she’d eventually say. It was far from my proudest moment, and now I regret not staying and talking to her. She was gone from the house by the time I got done with Saint, and I never got the chance to explain myself more thoroughly to her.
Saint didn’t make things any better. He showed up angry, but with a cocky grin that told me he’d done something horrible.
He’d dragged me down the beach, away from Loni, and nearly out of sight of his house.
Spinning around, he’d glared down at me, seething.
“Where’d you go?” I’d asked in a low voice.
Of course, he’d ignored my question because it was Saint and he really did buy into the whole god thing. The bastard thought he was omnipotent.
“You better have a good fucking explanation for ignoring my texts all night,” he’d snapped. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger like an idiot, you know that, don’t you?”
I really hadn’t appreciated the lecture, but I hadn’t interrupted him for fear of just pissing him off more. I’d never get an answer out of him that way. As he ranted, I’d noticed what I still swear was blood on his shirt.
“Saint, what the hell is that on your shirt?” I’d interrupted him to point it out.
He’d glanced down at his otherwise pristine white t-shirt and shrugged. “I don’t see anything.”
“Bullshit. Is it blood?”
He’d looked up at me, eyes cold. “And if it was?”
“Tell me it’s not from any of those girls.”
His jaw had clenched at that, and it’d been pretty obvious that I’d pissed him off with that statement.
“You really think Liam and I would go and beat up a bunch of petty bitches? What kind of monster do you take me for, Mallory?”
I hadn’t known then, and I still don’t really know now, though I’m more confident that he hadn’t beat the shit out of Kristyn and her friends. Still, I think he beat the shit out of someone, but he wouldn’t tell me who.
Letting out a sigh, I tuck my phone away and my thoughts of Loni and Saint with it. Unfortunately, now isn’t the time. I’ve got something much more pressing to deal with before I can worry about either of them.
“Here we are,” my Uber driver says, pulling to a stop outside of a quaint little restaurant that I know on sight is way out of my price-range.
“Thanks,” I murmur, slipping out of the car. My heartbeat is spiraling out of control, and I no longer have any problem focusing. I’ve been dreading this meeting all week.
My dinner with Nora.
I pause outside the main entrance and take a deep, fortifying breath before I make my way inside.
It’s a crowded place, but I spot Nora almost immediately. She’s sitting at a table in the middle of the main room—looking like one of the mothers from the Macy’s ads in a black and blue color-block dress that brings out the color of her eyes—and she’s surrounded by people. I scowl, suspecting that’s not on purpose, and wonder what her scheme is as I make my way over to her.
She smiles when she sees me, but it’s far from friendly.
“I figured it’d be best to show you I’ve no intention of hurting you,” she says as I sit down across from her and link my fingers together on the tabletop. “We’ll keep this nice and friendly and public.”