Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
I let out an audible sigh at her text. I hate that I can’t tell Blaire what’s going on, but until I know more, it’s for her own good. I can’t take a chance of her getting mixed up in whatever Logan is doing.
Me: I’m sorry. I just need some more time. I’m okay. I promise.
Not a complete lie. While I should feel lonely here, it’s actually been peaceful. It’s given me time to think about my brother’s death and what Ethan said. Looking back, I can now see all the signs. The expensive renovations. The new car he had recently purchased. The paranoid way he was acting the last few times we hung out. His final words to me, as if he knew something bad was going to happen to him.
Because he did know.
It’s not that I’m over his death. My heart aches every time I think about him. But at least it all makes sense now. I hate that he went down that path, and I’d like to think if he had confided in me maybe I could’ve done something to help him. But the truth is, he was in over his head and I don’t even know what I could’ve done. When I can corner Ethan, I’m planning to ask him if there’s any way to tip the police force off so they’ll know he’s gone and I can tell my parents. Even without a body, we need to have a funeral. My parents will need closure—I need closure.
Blaire: Take a picture and send it to me.
What?
As if she can hear my thoughts, she sends another text: I need to see for myself you’re okay.
Figuring it can’t hurt, I take a quick picture then send it to her. As I wait for it to show delivered, I look at the woman on the screen. I’m several shades tanner from lounging by the pool. My thick hair is up in a messy bun, and my brown eyes are shining in contentment. Spending time by myself has been good for me. I’ve even written a new list, adding a few extra items to it. I’m not sure when I’ll get a chance to do any of them, but I’m hoping to catch Ethan off guard and corner him into giving me an update.
Blaire: You look beautiful and I miss you. Please come home soon.
Me: I miss you more.
I set my phone on the table and lie back in the lounge chair, closing my eyes and enjoying the sunshine. Hopefully the sun is here to stay, but in Jersey you never know. We could have a week of heat and the next be covered in snow.
“I don’t give a fuck what my son told you. This is my damn home and I want to know why the hell you’re here playing house with some woman.”
I jump at the booming voice as it gets louder, the closer it gets, and wrap my towel around my bikini-clad body.
“Andrew, please calm down,” a soft voice adds. It’s sweet with a heavy Spanish accent. Kind of like Ethan’s, only his isn’t as distinguished.
I stand and see Rosco with a man and woman standing by the back door.
“No, Raquel, I won’t calm down. There’s a woman lying out by our pool. Women’s clothes scattered all over Ethan’s room, while his clothes are in the guest bedroom. I want to know what the hell is going on.”
“I’m sure, once Ethan comes home, he’ll be able to explain everything.”
“Or he can explain now,” the man growls, pointing at Rosco, who has his arms crossed over his chest in defiance.
I take a moment to look at the man and immediately know he’s related to Ethan. They share the same features, from their eyes, to their hair, to the way they hold themselves. If someone drew what Ethan would look like in twenty years, it would be this man.
“I already told you I was given strict orders not to tell anybody anything,” Rosco says dryly.
“Then you can leave,” the man says.
“Not happening until the boss returns,” Rosco argues. “I mean no disrespect, but I was given orders by Mr. Romero, and you know I’m not veering from them until he tells me otherwise.”
Oh, Mr. Romero… That must be Ethan’s last name.
“I don’t give a—” the man begins, stepping into Rosco’s face.
I figure I better say something before they get into a fight. “Excuse me,” I say, drawing everyone’s attention my way. “My name is Nevaeh… Nevaeh Hansen.”
I walk over to the three of them and extend my hand to shake theirs. The man doesn’t take mine, but the woman does, and now that I’m closer to her I can see Ethan also looks a lot like her. They must be his parents. It would make sense since Ethan mentioned this is his dad’s beach house.