if he’s worried I’ll be pissed at him for interrupting.
“Can you help me?”
“What do you need?”
“Bring my car around the back, close to the garage as you can.”
I’ve been in Sean’s house before. Came here to drop off notes for him when he was off sick for like three weeks. His mother invited me into the kitchen for milk and cookies like I was five years old, but I felt too bad to say no.
I was a fucking pushover back then. That was before Mom died. Before Candy arrived. When everything was still hunky-dory.
With luck on my side, I can get Candy out through the kitchen without anyone seeing, if the kids are already scattering like I’m sure they are.
Guess it was a quiet night at the police station for the cops to have decided coming out here was worth their time, especially knowing that everyone would probably be gone by the time they got here.
Including Candy and I.
Chapter Eleven
Candy
Something’s tickling my face, but my arms are too heavy for me to bat it away. That sensation is so irritating, it forces me awake when all I want to do is sleep.
A splash of water rouses me even more. It’s all around me, and that sends a vague wave of panic through me.
When I finally lever open my eyes, I stare for a bit at my naked body spread out in front of me.
Did I fall asleep in the bath? How come I didn’t slip down into the water?
There’s something under my head, propping me up. Something warm and firm that bunches and moves.
A hand appears holding a bar of soap. It descends to my thighs and begins scrubbing the skin.
This can’t be right.
I lift my hand, but all it does is splash weakly back into the water.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Josiah says in a deadpan voice. “Thought you’d never wake up.”
“What are you…?”
Stupid question. I know exactly what he’s doing. The question is—
“Why?”
“You’re dirty.”
Well, he’s got me there. The water’s murky, but not enough to obscure the marks on my legs. The water level’s only halfway up my thighs. Guess Josiah didn’t want to take any chances.
Something’s not right.
It takes me a few seconds to figure out what it is.
“It hurts,” I murmur.
“Sorry, darling.”
“Inside.”
Josiah briefly pauses, and then renews his scrubbing with vigor. “Almost done.”
“What happened?”
The bar of soap plops into the water. Josiah’s face appears, his hair in disarray and his eyes vacant. “You don’t remember?”
I look down at my bruised body. Most of those marks are familiar, but some of them are new.
I shake my head.
He splashes water over me, rinsing my skin. “Almost done,” he says again. Reaching over my legs, he pulls out the plug. I catch a glimpse of bright tiles, a pink loofah, and a razor.
I don’t recognize any of them.
“Where are we?”
“A friend’s house,” he says.
He leans away as the water gurgles down the drain. The scent of the soap he washed me with hangs in the air—sickly and too sweet, like decaying flesh.
My stomach twists. I lurch forward into a sit, and barely manage to turn my head before I puke up violently. The hand behind my neck tightens, then Josiah draws away a clump of my wet hair.
“I really wish you’d stop doing that,” he says.
With a sigh, he turns on the faucet and adjusts the hot and cold lever. Warm water rushes over my legs, washing my puke down the drain. “At this rate, we’ll be here all night.”
Chapter Twelve
Josiah
I’ll never condone what happened to Candy at Sean’s house, but I do feel she had a hand in her own self-destruction.
I’d warned her, but she’d snuck out anyway.
Everyone knows not to accept drinks from strangers, but she did.
Honestly, I thought she’d have learned her lesson. Who would touch alcohol again after being spiked?
But the longer I know Candy, the more I start to understand things about her.
She’s stubborn as fuck and resilient too.
I almost want to admire her. She’s like one of those inflatable kid’s toys with weights in the bottom—doesn’t matter how hard you punch them; they just keep bouncing back.
The week after Sean’s party, Candy skipped dinner. I’d have been pissed at that—Dad never lets us skip supper unless we’re running a brain-melting fever or something—but I was too busy reveling in the fact that my life was back to normal as easily and quickly as if someone had flipped a fucking switch.
Dad and I talked sports. Emma got through her whole plate of food without anyone trying to