into Mrs. Macmillan’s living room.
Lila had only come here for Brandon, and she’d made it clear that she’d take him back to Hollywood with her by any means necessary.
I should have believed her.
“Brandon should be on soon,” his mother said as I headed toward the door.
I glanced at the TV screen and back to the woman who looked too old for her years. Her gray hair was long and unkempt, her face pale and ashen from too much time inside this house—inside this room.
“What else did Brandon say?” I asked, despite my better judgment. He’d left her a note saying he needed space. That he loved her but knew that she’d been lying to him, knew that she'd been keeping secrets.
But how much did he know?
That was the question haunting me, and I had no doubt it was the same question that kept driving Mrs. MacMillan to open up another bottle.
I knew Brandon was pissed at his mom, and that I could understand. I was almost certain he’d found out about her affair with Lila’s dad. And Amber had told me that he’d found his dad’s suicide note, so he knew his mother had lied to him about the accidental overdose.
But did he know the rest?
I stared at his mom’s profile in the flickering glow of the TV. Why had she even kept that note? I knew better than to ask. A question like that in the state she was in right now… It would be enough to send her into a spiral of angry shouts followed by endless weeping.
I’d seen her lose her grip on sanity too many times to count.
I’d picked up the pieces when she’d totally fallen apart. Luckily for her, it had been me there and no one else. I already knew her worst secret. But the question was… did Brandon?
Mrs. MacMillan turned away from the TV. “He and that devil’s spawn are going to be on TV.” She turned back to the TV, an unlit cigarette dangling from her fingers. “Satan’s whore,” she muttered.
“Brandon said he and Lila would be on TV?” Even as I asked it, I was mentally kicking myself for encouraging her. She was out of her mind again, no doubt off those pills she was supposed to be taking.
“Frank would know what to say to him,” she said. “If he were here, he’d tell that filthy whore to keep her paws off my boy.”
I said nothing. I might hate the thought of Lila, I might despise the fact that after everything that had gone down between us she’d still walked away. With Brandon, no less. But I wasn’t about to agree that she was a filthy whore or Satan’s spawn or any of the other names Mrs. MacMillan called her.
She was spoiled, entitled, and… beautiful. Sweet when she wanted to be. I had to believe she’d had her reasons.
I muttered a curse under my breath. Who was I kidding? Of course she had her reasons. Those reasons were money, wealth, power, and fame. All the things she’d left behind when she’d come to Pinedale.
“Idiot,” I murmured under my breath as I cleared an end table full of dirty dishes. I was such an idiot. One month and I still wanted to hope. I was still trying to make excuses for her.
Amber was right. Lila had played us all. Me more than anyone. She’d strung me along and now…
I scowled down at the dishes in my hand.
And now, Amber was gone too. But where? And why the hell was Brandon still not returning my calls? What had I done that he wouldn’t even talk to me about it? Why would he trust Lila when he knew exactly what she was about—
“There he is,” Mrs. MacMillan breathed. “My Frankie is back.”
I winced. Frank wasn’t coming back. Frank was dead.
And I’d seen him die.
I glanced over at Mrs. MacMillan’s pale profile.
I’d seen her kill him.
The world believed that Frank MacMillan died of an accidental overdose. A few people knew that the overdose wasn’t an accident, but intentional.
Mrs. MacMillan hadn’t wanted Brandon to know even that much. She’d said it would ruin him if he knew his father had tried to take his own life.
There were only two people who knew the truth.
Frank MacMillan had tried to kill himself. He’d written the note, he’d taken the pills… but he’d failed. They’d found him before he died. They’d pumped his stomach and saved his life. He would have recovered. At least, there was a chance he