Kiss and Tell(14)

“No!” Emerson swore. “I wasn’t—”

“Really?” Josh cut in. “Because you’re half naked, and I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to think.” Suddenly Josh slapped his forehead. “Oh my god. Was this what you were trying to tell me in the lighthouse? That guy you mentioned—are you still seeing him?”

“No!” Emerson went over to Josh and tried to take his hand, but he shook her off. “I swear, Josh, I’m done with him. This… this was just a dare! That’s all, I promise.” She gazed pleadingly up at him. “I wouldn’t lie.”

“Really?” Josh pulled out his phone. “Because it seems like that’s all you’ve been doing.” His expression was steely as he handed her his phone.

The instant Emerson saw the name on the screen, any last bit of hope leaked out of her. Blocked.

Liar, liar, pants on fire… Oh wait, Emerson isn’t wearing any pants! Go to the Bones for proof she hasn’t changed.

A photo was attached. It was a screenshot from Twitter, posted two Julys ago by RemsenPhotog.

SCORE! Model Tally = 4, it declared over a fuzzy selfie shot of two scantily clad figures embracing.

Emerson swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes. The photo was of her with Remsen, the photographer with whom she’d made the worst mistake of her life. A girl she’d modeled with in New York had found the image on Twitter last year and e-mailed her a screen shot. The darer must have dug it out of her old e-mails.

Emerson crumpled over, gagging. The darer wanted to take everything from her, strip her bare until she had nothing at all.

“So it’s true, then,” Josh whispered.

She wrenched herself back up. Josh was staring at her in disgust, a tear working its way down his cheek. The candlelight cast shadows across his face, darkening his eyes.

“In New York, yes,” Emerson choked out. “But not now. I swear, Josh. It was the worst mistake of my life and I would never, ever make it again. I—I love you.”

As soon as the words slipped out, she wished she could take them back. But they were words you couldn’t reverse, words you couldn’t misunderstand. They hung in the air between them, tainted and unreturned.

“I don’t know what to do, Em.” Another tear slid down Josh’s cheek. “I don’t know what to believe.” He kicked at a pile of rose petals, shaking his head. “Every time I let my guard down with you, I end up getting hurt.”

Emerson felt as if her chest were splitting in two. He was right. As long as Josh dated her, he was in danger. No one was safe when it came to her stalker. There was only one way to protect Josh. Only one way to make sure she never hurt him again.

“I know.” Her voice broke. “I’m not good for you right now. I’m not good for anyone right now.” Each word felt like a nail jabbing at her insides. She forced herself to keep going. “I do love you, Josh. I have for a long time. But I think I need some time apart. Some time alone.”

Josh’s eyes shone green-brown behind a film of tears. “You’re ending things?”

“I’m sorry,” Emerson whispered.

For a long moment, Josh just stared at her. “I really thought we could make it this time,” he said at last. “But I guess that only happens in fiction.” He didn’t hug her or say good-bye. He didn’t beg or try to sway her. He just gave her one last look, as if he was memorizing her face. Then he turned and walked out.

Emerson sank to the floor, a sob racking through her. She could hear Josh’s car revving up and screeching off. She ripped her horseshoe necklace off and threw it across the room. Luck couldn’t do anything for her anymore.

Ding!

The noise made her leap to her feet. It took her a minute to locate her phone in the pile of clothes.

They say that breaking up is hard to do. At least we still have each other.





CHAPTER TEN


Thursday, 7:40 AM


Sydney felt a stab of guilt as she watched Echo Bay recede in her rearview mirror. Right now, she should be taking her seat in homeroom, listening as Abby Wilkins droned on over the loudspeaker. Instead, she was headed toward Moorhead, Massachusetts, population three hundred. Well, three hundred, and one rehab center.

At 6:23 that morning, Guinness had called. He’d been granted visitor privileges for the day, and he wanted to see only her. Guinness had asked her to drive out after school, but there was no way she could wait that long. Sydney kept the windows down as she drove, hoping the rush of wind might drown out her thoughts. No such luck. Ten minutes into the drive and her brain was already a fun house of theories, twisting and contorting at every turn.

They all agreed that the kidnapper theory made sense. The same woman who had kidnapped Caitlin, and set up Jack Hudson to take the fall, was now torturing them. But how did it all connect to Kyla? And how did this adult woman know so much about their lives?

It had always felt to Sydney as if the darer was someone their age—someone they knew. Then again, it could be a woman who worked at Winslow. Sydney tried to imagine Principal Howard or Miss Hilbrook hiding in the hallways, shadowing their every move. A snort slipped out of her. The image would almost be funny if the reality wasn’t so horrible.

By the time Sydney turned into Moorhead an hour and a half later, she’d talked herself in circles so many times she could barely see straight. At least there was one thing in her life that the darer hadn’t destroyed. Thanks to the Winslow counselor’s wheedling, RISD had granted her an extension on her scholarship application. She’d overnighted the application herself, which meant it should be arriving safely at RISD today.

Sydney tried to clear her head as she passed a shut-down post office, a tiny diner with a half-lit sign, and a one-pump gas station. At the end of the road, a sign for Roseview Drug & Alcohol Rehabilitation Center came into view. 2 MILES DOWN THE ROAD! it read in big, cheery letters.

She followed the sign to a fancy, wrought-iron fence that stood at least eight feet tall. It encircled an ornate stone building that looked more like a castle than a rehab center. Sydney pulled up to the entranceway and pushed the buzzer on a high-tech security system. A video screen flickered to life. “Sydney Morgan, here to visit Guinness Reed,” she said into the screen. She squeezed the steering wheel, right where Kyla’s necklace had been left when she was on the cliffs Tuesday. Just the memory was enough to set her heart pounding again, and she sighed with relief when a man in a suit appeared on the video screen.

The man was sitting behind a huge wooden desk. “One moment, please,” he said in a formal voice. With a ring of a bell, the door to the fence swung open. “Please park in Lot A,” the man said, sounding disturbingly like a robot. “Then proceed to the visitors’ desk in the lobby.”

Lot A, it turned out, was a field lined with flawlessly manicured bushes. A flagstone path led to the center’s stained glass front door. Only the Reeds would find a rehab center that was nicer than their beachfront mansion.

It took Sydney fifteen minutes to make it through the center’s rigorous sign-in regimen. (ID: deposited. Bag: examined. Clothes: patted down. Four-page release form: signed.) Finally, a tiny, wrinkled nurse guided her to an expansive rec room, lined with shelves of board games, books, and instruments. “Your friend’s in the back,” she informed Sydney, nodding in the direction of a small chess table. “He’s a charmer, isn’t he?” She gave Sydney a wink before leaving.

“That he is,” Sydney murmured to no one in particular. She lifted her hand in a hesitant wave to Guinness. Now that she was actually here, waves of nerves were suddenly rolling through her.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen Guinness in rehab before. She’d first met him at the Sunrise Center, when they were both patients. They’d connected immediately back then, even though Sydney was several years younger. She’d never met someone who understood her like he did; someone who didn’t shy away from the anger brewing inside her, but met it head-on. At Sunrise, she and Guinness were on the same plane; they shared the same world. It had tied them together with a knot so tight she was still working to loosen it.

She’d thought seeing him here would bring back a rush of memories—tighten that knot once again. But it felt different this time. They weren’t on the same plane anymore. This time, Guinness was on the inside, and she was on the outside. It made her feel as if they’d been tossed around in a snow globe, and only she was left standing.

Guinness waved her over. She studied him as she crossed the room. He had a few days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks, and his dark hair hung in tousled waves. She was surprised by how good he looked, more relaxed than she’d seen him in a long time.

“So have you prepared for the impending weather doom?” Guinness asked as she dropped down across from him.

“I can barely fit inside my apartment with all the canned goods my mom’s stockpiling,” she confirmed.

“Octo-storm is all anyone here can talk about,” Guinness said. “The nurses are freaking that we’ll lose power. Addicts without electricity,” he said with a laugh.

“Sounds like a reality show,” Sydney mused.