Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Dylan’s eyebrows inched together. He arched the one with the birthmark. “I don’t get it. Why would that matter?”
It was difficult for me to even say it out loud. “Unless there’s some big misunderstanding—and fuck, I really hope there is—then I think Macie gave it to me because she’s had feelings for me for a while now, and I think those feelings got turned into something poisonous. I think she’s behind those texts, the threat. I think she might be the stalker.”
Dylan’s jaw dropped. He shook his head and covered his mouth. “No, no way. Emmy’s sister?”
I looked at the bracelet in my hand. I didn’t want to believe it either. Maybe I was wrong? Could this be a misdirect? Some kind of trick by the person who was really behind it all?
“Maybe the stalker gave her the bracelet to give to you?” Dylan suggested. Clearly he wanted to presume her innocence as badly as I did.
Still…
I wasn’t sure. But I had an idea on who we might be able to go to for help. “Do you think Hunter’s awake? We might need his help on this one.”
Dylan had his phone in his hands in seconds. “Let me call him this time.”
“Yes,” I said, returning to holding Dylan as he made the call. His shirt and sweats were damp from the rain, just like my clothes. It didn’t matter, though. I didn’t want to let him go. “Please give him a heads up. But don’t deactivate those watcher vines.”
Dylan arched a skeptical brow. I leaned in and kissed his neck, inhaling his scent and feeling, for once, complete.
He was mine and I was his, no matter how hard anyone else worked to keep us apart.
I pulled up to Hunter’s driveway with a cloud of dust and rocks kicking up behind the tires. Admittedly I had been pressing down hard on the gas pedal once we called Hunter and asked if we could come over. It was late into the night but apparently, he’d been up working on a project and was happy to help us.
He stood on the porch, arms crossed over his chest. He wore a thick gray jacket with the hood thrown over his head. The watcher vines hung limply from the roof. We got out of the car, gravel crunching under our sneakers. Dylan and I both waved but I held an arm out for Dylan to slow down as we approached.
“I want to test something,” I said. I grabbed the bracelet out of my pocket—felt like touching poison ivy—and tossed it at the vines.
They instantly snatched it out of the air. More vines started to come down from the porch, wrapping around the bracelet, pulling it up.
“So that’s what triggered them,” Dylan said. He shook his head. He looked slightly uncomfortable with hands stuffed into the pocket of his pants, his shoulders stiff and rigid. I didn’t blame him after he saw what those things did to me.
Hunter disabled the watcher vines which had them go limp and drop the bracelet. He picked it up as if he were grabbing a venomous snake. “I take it this is what you want to talk about?” He looked between Dyl and me.
“It is.”
He nodded and turned to enter his house, muttering, “Follow me,” over his shoulder, a whiff of garlic trailing behind him. I reached for Dylan’s hand. He took it, fingers locking with mine.
We walked through the hanging vines and entered Hunter’s home. “Sit, sit.” Hunter shrugged his jacket off and hung it on an already full rack next to the door. It smelled like moss and freshly turned soil inside. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t exactly inviting either.
We went to his couch, pretty much in the exact same spots as last time. Hunter offered us some wine, but we declined. I had to stay sharp tonight. He excused himself, but instead of coming back with a drink, he returned with a stone bowl overflowing with water. He gently placed the bowl down on the center of the coffee table and then sat across from us. The water inside the bowl was almost fluorescent blue. I wasn’t sure if it was how the inside of the bowl had been painted or if the water was really that blue.
“Tell me, what’s going on?”
And so Dylan and I worked together to tell the story of what had happened since the last time we’d been here. About the dove, and the bracelet, and the suspicions about Macie. I pulled out the threatening letter that had been left with the dove. Hunter took it and read it, his face remaining stern and stoic. He didn’t seem like a man who was often shaken. He also looked like he had been letting his beard and hair grow since the last time I’d seen him. He placed the letter on his lap and reached up, unpinning the loose bun and letting his long brown hair fall down near his shoulders.