Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Fuck!” he shouted, flipping a stack of papers. They fluttered to the ground and Rhodes ran his hands roughly over his head. He held them there for a moment before slowly reaching into his pocket and retrieving a small, folded piece of paper. He handed it to me without looking at it.
Hesitantly, I took it from his grasp, unfolding it as if it were tied to an explosive. When I read the words written in neat script in the middle of the fold, my heart stopped.
I read those five words slowly, then all at once, then one-by-one, until they didn’t make sense anymore. Not that they had to begin with. My brows knitted together and I lifted my eyes to Rhodes, dropped them back to the note, and lifted them again. His expression was unreadable.
“What is this?”
“I found it taped to my bike windshield when I left the gym last night.”
“I,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I don’t understand.”
Rhodes exhaled through his nose, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “If there’s something you’re not telling me—”
“There’s not!” I cut him off, reaching for him again. He jerked away and my eyes blurred, lips trembling. “Rhodes, please, you have to believe me. I don’t know what this means.”
He was quiet a moment, his jaw tense, his arms crossed. The sweat had dried on my skin and I was suddenly freezing. Rhodes wouldn’t look at me, but I could tell he was battling with what the note meant, too.
Then it hit me.
“God.” My hand found my forehead and I closed my eyes tight. “It’s Mason. It has to be.” When I opened my eyes to find Rhodes, he was already shaking his head. “No, listen to me. He told me you were bad for me when he pulled me to the side on the Fourth of July. He texted me a few days later asking if I’d thought about what he said. And he just texted me again asking me to call him.”
“Natalie,” Rhodes argued, saying my name like a warning, but I didn’t give him the chance to finish the thought.
“He’s jealous. And he’s an immature little boy. He’s playing a stupid game. Please, you have to believe me.”
“I can’t.”
I shook my head, my mouth still open, my hands extended toward him. I was so cold. Everything was so cold. “Why not?”
Rhodes cracked his neck, bending over slightly and splaying his hands on the desk. The muscles in his arms tensed, and he stared at the wooden surface between his thumbs. When he glanced up at me from beneath his still furrowed brow, I waited for his answer. I never could have imagined the words that left his mouth next.
“Because it’s my sister’s handwriting.”
I convinced Rhodes to let me take the note home with me.
There was something about it, something familiar, but I didn’t know what. He was hesitant at first, but given that I was its main subject, he agreed to let me study it for a while.
The house felt emptier than usual that night. I was lying on the floor in the living room, staring up at the chandelier above our coffee table, replaying the scene at the gym. Rhodes let me take the note, and though I wanted him to believe me, I knew a part of him was still wary. How could he not be? The note had a clear warning, one that I couldn’t begin to understand, and it was written in his sister’s handwriting.
Rhodes held me after dropping the bomb about his sister, but I still felt a hesitance even with his arms around me. He was trying to figure it all out, and even though he might not have wanted to believe that I could hurt him, his basic instinct told him otherwise. I couldn’t blame him.
My only suspect was Mason, but did he know about Rhodes’ sister? I guess everyone in the town did the year that it happened. Still, I couldn’t see him being that cruel to try to pull over an illusion that she wrote it. With him crossed off the list, I didn’t have any other ideas as to who could have written the note.
Unless it was his sister.
That possibility shook me to my core.
If that were the case, that meant Lana was alive. Furthermore, it meant that she was alive and that she hated me, or at least wanted her brother to stay away from me.
But why?
Groaning, I grabbed a pillow from the couch and covered my face with it before tossing it to the side again. My head was spinning with no chance of finding steady ground anytime soon. Everything I thought I knew about Rhodes was back in limbo, in a place where I couldn’t be sure of anything.
Yanking my phone off the charger, I thumbed through the contacts. I debated calling Willow, but it was Friday night and she was supposed to be at her first college party. Part of me ached to be there with her, part of me was selfish enough to wish she was home with me, instead. Mom and Dale were still up north and wouldn’t be back for a few more days. I could have called them, but they didn’t know about my relationship with Rhodes, so they couldn’t help, either.