a ten-mile radius can hear it.
Dad walks into the room, scans it, and seems about to walk out again. Relief sweeps through me. But then he pauses and glances over at the couch. He shouldn’t be able to see Candy from where he’s standing, but somehow, he notices something amiss.
“There you are,” he says, coming around the side of the couch. “I’ve been looking for you.”
He sounds…different. Rougher than usual. Then a smell hits my nose.
Cigarette smoke.
What the fuck? He stopped smoking the day Emma was born.
I tense when he crouches beside the couch. “You awake?”
Candy stirs a little, but doesn’t reply.
“Where were you?”
“Here,” Candy says.
“Bullshit, I checked.”
My hands are in fists, but unless I really want to fuck up this situation, all I can do it watch. All it will take is my dad noticing the smell in the air, or the mess I made of Candy’s usually sleek hair…just one little sign to prompt him toward further investigation.
But I guess he’s been drowning his sorrows too—there’s a little sway in him when he reaches out for her.
Don’t you fucking touch her.
As if he hears my silent command, he hesitates, and then pulls back his hand. “Your mother’s gone to stay with your aunt for a few days. Said to bring you too as soon as you surfaced. But, uh…I’d rather not drive so far in the dark. We’ll go tomorrow, okay?”
Candy murmurs something.
My father sighs. “You should get to bed.”
He stands, as if waiting for her to rise.
When she doesn’t, he grimaces down at her. “As stubborn as your fucking mother,” he spits out, before turning on his heel and striding out of the room.
I count to ten while my heart thunders away in my throat, and let out a relieved sigh when I hear him climbing the stairs.
I’m at Candy’s side a moment later.
She watches me with wide eyes, but doesn’t sit up. Doesn’t move.
“Get up,” I say. “You have to get to bed.”
Reluctantly, she pushes up to a sit, wincing as she fumbles to keep her pajama top closed. I stand, but she doesn’t rise with me. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s gone.”
“He’s lying.”
I crouch, put my hand on her knee. “What do you mean?”
She shakes her head, eyes wide. “Josiah, my mom hates her sister. They haven’t spoken in years.” Another shake of her head. “She would never go stay with her.”
I shrug. “Why would he lie?”
Her blue eyes drill into me before she blinks and looks away. “I don’t know.”
“I mean, is it absolutely impossible for her to be with your aunt?”
Candy uses her thumb to press her bottom lip against her teeth as she gives this some thought. “I guess…they could have…I guess they could have made up or something.”
“We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
There’s such confusion in her eyes, I hesitate.
“Hey…” I touch her chin, lifting her gaze to mine. “You gotta remember something.”
She watches intently. I smile.
“We’re in this together.”
Something that could have been relief touches her face. “But what about—”
“He can’t keep the truth hidden. If he’s lying, we’ll find out.”
She wraps her hands around my wrist, squeezing me. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
I so badly want to kiss her, but not with my dad nearby. He could decide at any minute to come downstairs and make sure she’s gone to bed.
I help her up, and walk her down the hallway, straining for any sound that might indicate my father is on the move.
Why would he be lying?
Even if he is, the truth always comes out…no matter how hard you try to hide it.
Chapter Forty
Josiah
A faint bang wakes me.
I sit up in bed, my heart racing.
Somehow, the sound merged with the dream I was having of chasing Candy through the mansion. She thought it was some big game, giggling and squealing every time I got close enough to brush her skin with my fingers. Then she’d dart off again.
Always slamming a door behind her.
I’d throw it open, and she be just within reach again. Tantalizingly close, but as soon as I’d reach her, too far away.
It doesn’t make any sense. Why do I still have to chase her? She’s mine. I already have her. But the mind’s sick like that. Always planting seeds of doubt, nurturing them with lies. As if I need to sabotage my happiness right now.
Thump.
So that slamming door hadn’t just been in my dream. I toss the sheets from me and hop into a pair of sweats. It’s overcast outside—the room’s interior is gloomy, and the shadows blur at