Kiss and Tell(15)

Guinness’s dark brown eyes met hers, holding her gaze for several seconds. He was usually so hard to read, a book written in a different language, but right now his expression was surprisingly unguarded. “It’s good to see you.” He put his hand on hers and an old, familiar tingle worked its way through her.

“It’s good to see you, too, Guinness. You look great. Better.”

“I am.” Guinness glanced around the mostly empty room. In the corner, two women were playing chess, both bent low over the board. A few tables up, a gangly guy who looked as if he couldn’t be more than thirteen was absorbed in a book. No one was paying any attention to them. “I actually kind of like it here. They have fancy cameras that I’m allowed to play around with, and as long as I follow my treatment plan, people leave me alone. There’s no one following me, no one leaving me notes.” He leaned back, resting his hands on his stomach. “I feel like I can breathe again.”

Sydney twisted at her ring. She let herself imagine what that would be like: to slip out of Echo Bay’s chains and just walk away. But she wasn’t in rehab. Unlike Guinness, she had to go home at the end of the day. “I was hoping we could talk about that package you sent me,” she said.

A muscle clenched in Guinness’s jaw. “I figured as much.” He scraped his chair back, standing up. “Let’s take a walk. As of today, I’m allowed on the grounds unsupervised.” He pressed his hands to his chest in a fake swoon. “It’s like Christmas and my birthday all wrapped into one!”

Sydney laughed as Guinness began the long process of signing them out. Finally, he led her outside and onto a wooded path. The iron fence rose on either side in the distance, but inside the property, tree branches threaded into an awning of gold and orange. Sydney breathed in deeply. The air smelled strongly of fall, that fresh, blank-page smell.

“So, Kyla,” Guinness sighed.

“Kyla,” she repeated. A bright red leaf fluttered down, and Sydney reached up, letting it land in her palm. “When I brought her up last week, you said you barely knew her, Guinness. But you don’t hunt down a stalker of some girl you barely knew.” She glanced over at him. “Why did you lie to me?”

Guinness kicked at a rock on the ground, watching it skitter ahead into the grass. “I was getting those notes, Syd. Not just the one I sent you, but others, too. I was freaked out. And I didn’t want you getting dragged into it. But then things started to get really weird, and I just—I had to tell someone. You’d been asking all those questions, so…” He looked over at her, squinting in the morning sun. “At the time, that package seemed like the safest way to do it.” He shook his head. “If I’d known what this person was capable of, I would never have sent it. The last thing I want is for you to get involved with this.”

Sydney hesitated. She wanted so badly to tell him that she already was involved, but what would that accomplish? Guinness was finally doing well. How could she ruin that for him? Besides, it wasn’t as if he could help her from inside rehab. “How close were you with Kyla?” she asked instead. She knew Guinness had once had a thing for Kyla. He’d even dated her sister, Lacey, like some kind of consolation prize. She tried not to let the memory sting. She and Guinness were over; whom he’d dated in the past shouldn’t have a bearing on her.

“She was Kyla Kern,” Guinness said with a shrug. “She was the hottest waitress at the Club. Every guy who summered in Echo Bay was into her. It drove me crazy that she wouldn’t give me the time of day.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I wasn’t used to hearing no.”

Sydney made a face at him. “You don’t say.”

“But Kyla never seemed to be dating anyone,” Guinness continued. He kicked at another rock, and Sydney watched it leap ahead. “Or at least that’s what I thought.”

“What changed?”

“The summer before she died, I was at a party at her house, and, being my usual drunken asshole self, I decided it was a great idea to sneak into her room. I was going through her underwear drawer—I know,” he groaned when Sydney gave him a horrified look. “Like I said, drunken asshole. How do you think I ended up here?” He waved broadly at the grounds surrounding them. “Anyway, that’s where I found a hidden note. It was this whole love poem, written to ‘Lion.’” He air-quoted on Lion. “At the time, I figured that was why she wasn’t into me—because she had some secret boyfriend.”

Sydney twisted her ring. “And now? Do you think it could have been from the person who was stalking her?”

“It’s hard to know. I’ve been trying to remember what the note looked like, but I can’t.” He gave his head a frustrated shake. “It was a while ago, and I was drunk. The only thing that really stuck with me was that name—Lion—because it was such a strange nickname for a girl as sweet as Kyla.” He guided Sydney toward a long, gurgling brook. “It would make sense, though, wouldn’t it?”

“It would.” Except that it didn’t fit with their kidnapper theory. Caitlin’s kidnapper had been a woman. “You definitely think the note was from a guy?”

“Unless Kyla had a lady love.” Guinness gave her a rakish grin.

“Was there anything else you found?” Sydney pressed, ignoring the comment. “Maybe something about the night she died?”

“No.” Guinness pushed a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. “I ended up here before I could dig any further.”

“And nothing else you remember about that first note?” Sydney was walking faster now, and Guinness picked up his speed to match hers.

“No, and listen, Blue.” Guinness grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. Despite everything, her heart swelled at his use of his old nickname for her. “I want you to drop this when you leave here today, okay? Someone clearly wants to keep this information buried—enough to have my weed laced so I almost died. I finally feel safe now that I’m out of Echo Bay, but you…” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.” Guinness’s eyes searched hers. “Promise me you’ll let it go, okay?”

Sydney clamped her lips together. There was no way she could do that, but she wasn’t about to tell Guinness that. Not when he was doing so well. “Sure,” she lied. “Whatever you want.”

“Good.” Guinness looked relieved. “So,” he said, taking off down the path again. “Tell me about you, Syd.” He stopped next to a wide rock at the edge of the brook. He sat down, gesturing for Sydney to join him. “Have you stayed… in control?”

Sydney knew what he was asking. “I’m fire-free,” she informed him.

Guinness broke into a huge smile. “That’s great, Blue. I’m so proud of you.” Sydney’s chest squeezed. For so long, she’d wanted Guinness to look at her like that: as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered. But most desires had an expiration date, and as she turned away, focusing on the water foaming over the rocks, she wondered if she’d finally hit hers.

Next year she’d hopefully be leaving Echo Bay behind. There would be new teachers and new roommates and probably new guys. But none of them would ever understand her like Guinness did.

“I’m so sorry, Guinness.” She reached out and took his hand. “You needed me last week, and I had blinders on. I was too caught up in my own problems. I should have been there, like you’ve always been for me.”

Guinness shook his head. “You were there, Syd. You’re always there. I think I just forgot where to look.” Then he was leaning in, pressing his lips against hers, and, for a minute, Sydney was fifteen again and this was the moment she’d been waiting for. She felt it all—the hope and exhilaration and desire and love—but the emotions were softer this time, muted somehow. It reminded her of how, on a sunny day, even after you looked away from the sky, you could still see spots of color behind your lids. The light lingered, even after the sun was gone.

Gently, she pushed Guinness away. “I can’t,” she said softly. “Not anymore.”

Guinness looked down. “So it’s not just fire you’re done with.”

Sydney touched his cheek, not sure what to say. She and Guinness had stopped and started so many times over the past few years. But this time, she could feel something shifting. It felt less like turning a page and more like closing a book. Guinness looked back up at her. It was written across his face: He knew it, too. So she said nothing, just wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Thursday, 12:22 PM


Tenley leaned over the desk she’d claimed in the back of the computer lab. She’d skipped the cafeteria, unable to face another freeze-out during lunch. Right now she preferred the peaceful quiet of the computer lab anyway. After the near-disaster at Bauer Industries yesterday, she’d been jumping at every little sound. Here, among the rows of computers, with just two freshmen geeking out over computer games up front, she could almost relax.