Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
But they didn’t give us these things. I’ll leave them here.
We hurry to the school, Hunter getting me inside through the auto shop. The bay door is easy to maneuver open, and we slip inside, running immediately upstairs.
Hunter grabs my hand, taking the lead, and we stop at Bastien’s classroom, the door wide open.
Before I even enter, though, I can see that nothing is right. We walk in, slowly absorbing the bare walls, the empty desk, and the clean whiteboard. No lamp. No container of markers or pens. No posters of student work on the walls.
As if the room has always been abandoned.
“He’s gone,” I say.
Did he know I would figure out who he was?
Or was he scared of something else?
“What are these?” Hunter asks.
I look as he holds up an envelope from my desk in the front row. I walk over and notice all of the desks have envelopes on them.
I take the one in Hunter’s hand, seeing it has my name and my address at home.
“Letters,” I tell him. “Letters we wrote to parents…that we never intended to mail.”
He looks at the front of it again, then turns it over. “Open in twenty-two years,” he reads.
I stare at the inscription that I didn’t write written on the back flap. Twenty-two years?
He moves between the desks, picking up a few others. “They all say that.”
I look around, hoping to find some other clue. Why did he leave? Is he guilty?
Is Deacon with him?
They must’ve left the cognac on Conor’s grave. New Orleans.
Hunter comes to my side again. “Open the letter now.”
“I know what it says,” I tell him. “I wrote it.”
“So why does he want to open it again in twenty-two years?”
I think back to his lectures on the rivalry and discussions on community pride and what we perpetuate generation after generation.
“Because we weren’t writing them to our parents,” I finally say, understanding. “We were writing them to us as parents. Because we change.”
Like my parents and his parents probably have. My dad was a lot like me. Now, the idea scares him.
“Why not twenty years, though?” he presses. “Why twenty-two?”
“Because he…” I swallow and shake my head. “Because he lost her twenty-two years ago.”
He wants us to be in our forties, like he is now.
I fold up the envelope and slide it into my pocket, leaving the classroom for the last time.
Hunter takes my hands as we stroll down the hallway. “You think he’ll be back?” he asks.
“I hope not.”
But I say it with a little smile. If he is guilty of something, I’d like to know more before I wish him caught.
And if he is guilty of her disappearance—or death—he and Deacon are dangerous. Better gone than near us.
I think I’ll miss Mr. Bastien a little.
I’m not sure I would like Manas Doran, though.
Hunter wraps his arms around me and picks me up, walking us down the hall. “You need Rebel gear for my game Friday.”
I groan. “Oh, are you sure?”
Maybe Aro has a T-shirt I can borrow, but still…
He laughs, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’ll make it worth it.”
Flutters hit my stomach as I think about the costume I can change into for the Halloween party afterward. Win or lose, he’s going to have such a good night.
Dylan
Seven Months Later
Damn, the water’s cold.
I let myself have one good shiver before I kick my legs, dragging the lane rope from one dock to the next. It’s early June, but the waterfalls feed Blackhawk Lake. I have to remember some of this water was snow in Canada a week ago.
My teeth chatter, keeping faith. The sun will beat the cold into submission by July. Unfortunately, the kids arriving to the camp in a week will still suffer a little while longer.
“Need help?”
I look over at Hunter, standing on the dock in his shorts and nothing else. His triple triangle tattoo on the left side of his torso, same as Kade’s, has completely healed since his brother took him to get it a month ago. They surprised Fallon. Three intersecting triangles: mind, body, and spirit. Mother, brother, son.
Kade and Hawke pass behind him, each carrying the blowup water equipment on their shoulders. “You only slow her down,” Hawke gripes.
“Oh, don’t sell Hunter short,” Kade says. “I’m sure he can be unbelievably quick.”
Hunter shoves the folded-up turbo water slide off his brother’s shoulders, Kade spinning around and both of them laughing as they wrestle each other.
Hawke turns, still holding what looks like the inflatable bongo bouncer. “Guys, come on!” he barks.
I keep swimming.
Hawke must be planning to take over his parents’ summer camp someday. He doesn’t let anyone on staff have any fun. Even me, and I’m his favorite.
Well, other than Aro.
I shout over to Kade. “At least my man has a repeat customer.”
He works his head out of Hunter’s hold, backing away. “I only need one date to do everything I could possibly want to do with someone.”