Page 109 of Wicked Promises
“You bit me,” I marvel.
She just grins.
“Little wolf.” I smile.
She just lifts one shoulder. Her smile falls pretty fast once we’re in the car. She stares straight ahead, and I take a moment to realize…
“Oh fuck. Is it because it’s snowing?”
She nods.
“We’ll be okay,” I promise her.
“You shouldn’t even be driving.” She closes her eyes. “God, they could’ve followed us here?—”
“It’s like lightning striking the same spot twice.” I reach over and take her hand. “Improbable.”
“You didn’t say impossible,” she whispers. She clutches my fingers like I’m a lifeline. “Okay, okay. Let’s just go before it gets worse.”
We’re the last car out of the parking lot, and the road is deserted.
“I have excellent reflexes,” I tell her.
Even so, I drive more carefully than I’ve ever driven in my life. I check each intersection three times, barely make the speed limit. The entire way, Margo just holds on to my hand. Her eyes are closed, and she’s pale.
My tongue touches my lower lip again. I’m still shocked that she bit me and I didn’t even feel it until after. It might be bruised.
Bruised like my mind was after I relived walking in to find my dad’s body. And here I go again, about to replay it in my mind for the thousandth time—although this time, maybe I’ll remember something new.
Something to exonerate Margo’s dad.
Past
Mom and I walked into a silent house.
She muttered something and dropped her purse on the side table, striding away from me.
Dad should’ve been home. There was always a hustle and bustle in our home—whether it be Amber in the kitchen or Dad in his study, on the phone, or playing music to cover up the sounds of Amber’s…
We heard that exactly once before Mom put an end to it.
I checked the kitchen, but it was empty. Mom appeared in the doorway of Dad’s study, shaking her head. So he wasn’t in there either.
“Did he go out?” she asked herself. She met my gaze. “Honey, go upstairs.”
“But Margo?—”
“Keith’s car is gone,” she said. “And so is Amber’s. I doubt she’s home.”
I nodded and went to the stairs. I should’ve gone to my room, but I didn’t.
My parents’ door was open, and a lamp was on.
A lamp in the middle of the day.
It drew my eye, and I went toward it like a moth drawn to a flame. Couldn’t help it.
“Dad?” I called.