When I enter the grounds of the lush estate, the facade doesn’t honor the macabre history behind it. I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover. With my bag in hand, I walk up to the door and ring the bell. My heart starts beating profusely in my chest, my hands clammy and trembling with anticipation of seeing the boy who stole my heart, praying he won’t stomp on it further by lying to me.
When the door opens, though, it’s not Finn who stands under its threshold, but the owner of the impressive home, Lincoln Hamilton, who is displaying a broad smile on his face. He stands at about six foot two, towering over me, in designer jeans and T-shirt, which to me looks far too clean-cut for just bumming around at home all day.
There is one thing that I notice right away—Lincoln’s eyes. He might have the same light-blue tone as Finn, but while pretty boy’s baby-blues remind me of a clear summer sky, Lincoln’s look like the abyss of a deep ocean, so profound that you fear to drown in them.
However, that is just one of the many differences between the two men. Finn is as tall as an oak tree and thickly built, reminiscent of everything solid and secure. He’s earth, dirt, and real. Lincoln, however, reminds me more of the inconsistencies of a body of water. Yes, it can look clear and innocent if contained, but left unchecked, it can quickly transform into to a fierce, crashing wave, demolishing everything in its path. Lincoln is the very definition of contained refinement, even with his ruffled sandy beach hair and ocean-blue eyes, while my Finn is crude, massive, and perfect.
“Stone,” he greets me, before I’m able to remind him of who I am.
His memory is impressive since he only saw me briefly at Finn’s father birthday party. It seemed like everyone wanted a piece of him that night, so he hardly had much time to be with his friends, much less chit-chat with their girlfriends.
“Hi, Lincoln. Is Finn here?”
“He is. I’ll go and get him. He’ll be very happy to see you.”
His smile is genuine, at least.
“We’ll see,” I mumble beneath my breath. I then re-think my manners, and before he’s able to take another step into the foyer, I grab on to his elbow and say, “I just want to thank you for all the help you are offering my mother and my father. I guess I should have said that first, huh?”
His eyes widen as does his sincere smile.
“I’m not the one doing anything. I’m sure you figured that was all Finn’s doing.”
“Yes, but you’re the one stuck with the bill.”
“What’s money if you don’t have happiness? If it can help you, then I know it will make Finn happy.”
“Is that why you did it? To make Finn happy?” I ask suspiciously, knowing there are no free lunches in life.
“Loyalty and friendship are why I’m helping. I’d do anything for any one of my friends. Just as I know they would do anything for me.”
The words should be nice to hear, but somehow, I get an awful cringe in the pit of my stomach, wondering just how far their loyalty to one another would go.
I’m about to say as much when I hear footsteps approach behind Lincoln.
“Who’s at the door?” I hear Finn ask, his throaty voice reminding me how much I’ve missed it whispering in my ear.
“Look for yourself.” Lincoln chuckles, opening the door wider so that I’m no longer hidden from Finn’s view.
“Stone,” he croaks, his beautiful eyes bulging from their sockets.
“Hey, quarterback. We need to talk,” I tell him point-blank, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from his rooted spot.
“Talk?” he asks, confused, yet keeps his hold on me, unwilling to let me go.
“Yep, and you’re going to tell me everything I want to know. You can count on it.”
Chapter 28
Finn
Stone remains dead silent as she leads me by the hand into the Oakley woods. With every leisured step she takes, my heart thumps madly in my chest, remembering the last time I took a walk down this path. But last time, it was under the light of a full moon with my best friend guiding me through the vast area, not beneath the sun’s beaming rays accompanied by the girl I was ordered to ruin.
I have no idea why Stone came over to Linc’s this afternoon, but I’m too fucking grateful for having her this close to even care that she’s leading me into the last place I want to be.
I entwine my fingers in hers, never wanting to let go, as she walks us further into the wooded area. We walk deeper and deeper, until the mansion behind us is far from view, ensuring we are surrounded only by large oak trees and the clear blue sky above us.
“Stone?” I mutter behind her, hoping she doesn’t take us too far in.
Who knows what she’ll find if she keeps going farther. I sure as hell haven’t been back to check if we did a proper job that night. Perhaps one of the guys paid a visit to the macabre place since then, just to be sure we didn’t fuck up and leave clues of our guilt. If I had to wager on it, my money is on Easton. He’s never been one to leave loose ends.
“Stone?” I repeat again when all I get is radio silence from her.
“I don’t want to hear another peep out of you, quarterback. Not until I say so,” she orders, her voice cold as steel and just as punishing.
I keep my head down like a scolded child but do as she says. It’s clear that, even though Stone has come to see me, she’s still pissed as all hell. The only thing that comforts me is the way she keeps hold of my hand, squeezing it from time to time, letting me run my thumb lightly over hers. I’m still focusing on the little patch of skin she’s allowing me to touch, almost crashing into her when she begins to slow her steps. She takes one long look around before giving me a curt nod to confirm she’s found her spot.
“This will do nicely,” she says, letting go of my hand to take the book bag off her shoulders.
My frown deepens as I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to hide the fact that my hand feels naked without hers. I keep rooted in place as she goes to her haunches and begins to take some stuff out of her bag.
“Stone?”
“I said zip it.”
I look up at the heavens to give me the fortitude to keep silent, but my confusion only heightens as I watch her throw an old blanket over the cold grass.
“Sit,” she orders, her head tilting up at me, commanding me to do as she says.
I’m tempted to call her out on her bossy behavior, but I doubt my playful teasing will change her stern disposition. So instead, I sit down on the edge of the blanket, the spiky, hard grass biting into my butt cheeks, even through the blanket and my thin, gray sweat pants. If I knew we were going to have a tête-à-tête in the woods, I would have worn jeans and spared my ass some grief.
Stone sits cross-legged just a few inches in front of me, placing her bag in between the hollow of her bare thighs. While she has her head bent down, rummaging through it, I take the opportunity to just look at her. She’s not in her usual in-your-face gear today. Actually, if I didn’t know any better, it looks like she just came from church, which is silly since I know everything there is to know about Stone, and going to Sunday Mass isn’t on her weekly to-do list.