Six Months Later

I nod because I know he wouldn’t. Truth told, I don’t think he’d hurt anyone. Except maybe himself.

“I don’t deserve you.” He moves in, and I could sooner resist breathing than I can resist curling my hands in the edges of his coat, pulling him until I can feel the heat from his chest and breathe in the smell that I now know as well as my own.

My hands are shaking and cold when I press them to his cheeks. He doesn’t flinch or pull away; instead he breathes harder, like every whisper of my fingers is magic.

“No more lies,” I say.

He nods but doesn’t say anything. Like he knows I’m not done.

“I don’t know what this means,” I say. “I don’t trust you now. I don’t know if I ever will.”

“I’ll wait,” he says, and I think he will. I think he’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes. And it might.

Still, I pull him down and kiss him until the cold disappears. His hands are tangled in my hair, and the world is a tiny, insignificant thing sliding sideways beneath my feet. It feels better than good. It feels right.

When we pull apart, the snow has stopped. The moon is bright and full in the star-pricked sky. I gaze at the pale ring around it, remembering that it’s an omen of something the future will bring. I wish I could remember if it’s good or bad.





Chapter Thirty


We sit in the parking lot behind the school, waiting for Mags to show up. My parents, for once, will be out too late to notice my absence.

We keep the radio low and read through the sections in my books that cover hypnosis. I highlight a section and hand it over to Adam.

“Okay, here’s the bit on imagery. It’s often helpful to use imagery in a sequence to bring people into a hypnotic state.”

He frowns. “What imagery?”

“I can’t tell you. There are case studies in the back, but it’s not something I can rehearse. If I think about it from your point of view, it won’t work on me. Keep a steady, soothing tone.”

“I don’t like this, Chlo. This is like The Idiot’s Guide to Psychology. Enough people have messed with your head already.”

“It’s fine,” I say, but of course it’s not fine. It’s an insane idea born out of pure desperation. As tense as I am right now, it’d be a miracle if a trained hypnotist could put me under, let alone a couple of amateurs with a textbook. But we have to try.

Adam’s face makes it clear he doesn’t agree. “It’s dangerous, Chlo. We don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Yeah, well, clearly neither did Dr. Kirkpatrick. They obviously killed her for a reason, and I’m thinking a botched attempt at cover-up is probably said reason.”

He trails a hand down my cheek. “I just want you to think about this. There’s a lot that could go wrong.”

“I’ve done nothing but think about this.” I sigh. “I’m done thinking. We’re doing this, Adam. We have to. It’s simple. You’re going to lead me through some relaxing imagery and count backward and gently lead me through the night at Blake’s house.”

His jaw goes tight. “And what if you do remember? Are you ready to remember everything that might have happened that night?”

“Yes, everything! Why would you—oh. Oh.”

Everything that might have happened starts to sound a lot like sex things that might have happened.

My stomach does an ugly barrel roll. I take a breath and press my lips together. Could I forget something like that? I think about Blake’s familiarity in my room, the way he’d tossed our books aside like there were better things to do.

No, I wouldn’t have done that with him. But a devil’s voice reminds me that not so long ago, I would have done anything for Blake Tanner. And I’m just kidding myself if I try to pretend that anything wouldn’t have potentially included sex.

I turn to Adam, biting my lip. “Were we…serious? Blake and me?”

Adam shakes his head slowly, looking pained. “Don’t make me go there.”

“Are you saying this because you don’t know or because you don’t want to talk about it?” I ask.

“Both, if you want the truth,” he says.

I scoot away from him. “Because it would change the way you feel about me, right? Because you were fine and dandy with the whole fake dating gig right up until you had to think of me as leftovers.”

“First off, you’re nobody’s leftovers. Second, until that day at the tutoring center, I had no idea Blake being with you was actually his dad’s sick new way to keep a thumb on you.”

“What, you thought he was sincere? Why on earth would someone like Blake date me?”

Adam’s eyes are narrowed, his voice too loud. “I don’t know, Chloe, maybe because he’s met you?”

The compliment doesn’t faze me. Maybe because as far as I remember, I haven’t had sex with anyone. So yeah, I’m a little preoccupied with the fear of it happening with somebody who was getting paid by the hour.

Maggie taps on his window, and we both look up. I climb out of the car, trying to look nonchalant. “Where’s your truck?”

“I walked. I was t-too paranoid someone would see it,” she says. Her brow is furrowed in a way that tells me she doesn’t buy my glib attitude. She can tell I’m upset.

Adam heads in first, and Maggie snags my sleeve at the door. “What’s wrong?”

I take a long breath. “How about what isn’t? It’s a shorter list.”

***

An hour later, Maggie bites her lip and looks around the silent study hall room. “Okay, this isn’t working, and I’m nerved out. When d-does the cleaning crew get here?”

“They don’t come on weekends. We’re fine,” Adam says.

She’s been edgy since we got here. Maybe the school wasn’t the best idea, but we need privacy and I figured being in the place where it all started might jog my memory.

I open my eyes and shift in the chair, my gaze going to the window beside me. It’s creepy thinking about the last time I looked at that rectangle of glass. If I fall asleep now, will I wake up to flowers?

Adam adjusts his coat behind me, and I frown up at him. “I’m sorry. I thought it would work faster.”

“Don’t be,” he says. “I’m probably not doing it right.”

“Me either,” Mags adds.

I shake out my shoulders and clear my throat. “Let’s go again. I just need to be a little more receptive.”

Maggie gives me an appraising look, one that tells me she’s pretty sure I’m not going to be receptive to anything even remotely like what they’re doing. She exchanges a look with Adam that makes it pretty clear it’s a shared opinion.

“We could try the lake imagery again. That was nice.” My voice sounds unconvincing. Even to me.

“Maybe Adam is right. We could g-go to the police,” Maggie says.

“We’ve been over this,” I say. “I need that box. I wouldn’t have hidden it if it wasn’t seriously important.” Their silence seems to agree with me, so I push my hair behind my ears. “We have to do this.”

Adam nods and scoots closer, reaching for my hand. I feel the roughness of his fingertips against my palm. A flash of him walking down the stairs at school rushes back at me. Halfway down the stairs, he turns over his shoulder, giving me a smile that makes my insides curl warmly.

I gasp and squeeze his hand harder. “Wait. I know what I need. I need you to touch me.”

He smiles a little wickedly, and I smack his arm, flushing to the roots of my hair. “Not like that. I mean—”

“You’ve remembered things when I touch you,” he says, filling in my awkward silence.

“Yes. That.” I turn to Maggie, willing my cheeks to cool down. “That’s how I remembered that night at Blake’s. When you held my hands to help me up, it all came back to me.”

“How?” Maggie asks.

“I don’t know,” I admit, lacing my fingers with Adam’s. “Maybe it’s because of my connections with you.”

“Would that b-be stronger than the drugs?”

“It can be,” Adam says softly, and I squeeze his hand, too overwhelmed to voice my own opinion. The truth is, my connection with both of them might be the strongest thing I know. Maybe the strongest thing I’ll ever know.

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