“Crap. I gave him the wrong card.” She held her room card. “Shit. He has my credit card. I don’t want him to use that.”
“I’ll grab it. Hold on.”
See? Protecting her. That’s what I was doing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SHELDON
“Marcus and I were friends.”
The words were spoken casually. Mena was applying tanning lotion on her arms beside me, at the hotel’s pool. No one was paying attention to us. It was nice. For once, I felt normal. For once, I felt like everyone else. For once, I let myself breathe. Things would be fine.
Then Mena spoke, and I frowned. A little girl ran giggling past me. Her mother was fast on her heels and she swept her baby up, saying, “Oh, you. You think you’re such a little sprinter, don’t you?” There was a mixture of relief and amusement in her voice.
For some reason, that made me smile. I didn’t know why, but I would remember this moment, years later, and wonder why that detail stuck out to me.
“What did you say?” I asked Mena, shielded my eyes with my hand to my forehead. I thought she said—no. I laughed. That couldn’t be.
“Marcus.”
She said his name again.
My heart paused, one solid beat, as his name sunk in. “What?” I felt gutted.
She nodded. “He was my friend.” Her voice was carefree, like we were discussing if we should go for coffee or not. Then she paused and looked up, meeting my gaze. “We talked about you a lot.”
“Wai—what?” I swallowed. “You mean like Leisha and Bailey? Was he going to do the same thing to you?”
She laughed again. The light-heartedness of it sent chills down my back. “No, Sheldon. Not like that. I wasn’t like those girls.”
“But,” she had to have been. “Mena, we were friends. He targeted those girls because of me. It would make sense if he had . . .” I trailed off. She was so confident, so sure. And a bad feeling took root in my stomach.
A part of me knew before she said the words, but it still didn’t temper the shock when I heard, “He didn’t pick those girls, Sheldon. You’re silly if you think that.”
“Wha—who—” I stopped again. Chills were all over my body, I felt them in my spine, wrapping around my feet, even moving up to my teeth. They began to chatter together now. “Mena, w-what are you saying?”
She gave me a smile. It was so sweet, but so menacing at the same time. She said, “When’s Carolina coming today?”
“Caro—what?” My heart was racing now, and Mena narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to the side as she studied me. I tried to give her a smile. I failed, but I murmured, as my hand slipped from my leg to the phone beside me. Mena didn’t know it was there.
I thought back now. She had been watching me. She saw me put my phone in my bag and then move the bag underneath my chair.
Thoughts were whirling in my head. I had to get help. I had to notify someone.
She had turned away. When the waiter came over to get our drink order, I gave him the wrong card. She went to grab it for me. She had gotten up from the chair to go over to him. That was when I grabbed my phone and laid it beside me, not thinking.
Thank god.
I had put my bag back. It wouldn’t look any different. She wouldn’t have any idea.
“Sheldon?”
“What?”
Mena was still frowning, her eyes roaming all over my face as she returned to the lounger next to me. “Did you call Carolina? Is she coming today?”
“No.” I forced the ends of my mouth up. “I mean, she has a meeting. She can’t come today.”
“That’s too bad.” She looked down at her lap.
“Why?”
“Huh?” Her head lifted back up. “What?”
“Why?” I swallowed over a lump. “Why is that too bad?”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “No reason. I don’t know her that well, but she seemed nice at the hospital. I’ve heard a lot about her.”
“From who?” As I kept asking questions, I dialed the first saved number on my phone, then I remembered it was my mother’s and I could’ve cursed myself. I didn’t know why I kept her number the first on the list, but it was there and I started a silent prayer, hoping she’d answer, hoping she’d figure it out.
Please, Mom. Please be a mom for once in your life.
“Grace.”
“What?” I jerked upright. Grace?
Mena reared back from confusion. “Are you okay, Sheldon?”
“Y-y-yeah.” Another smile. Another attempt. “What were you saying before? Grace told you about Carolina?”
“Yeah.” A speculative look entered her eyes and her eyebrows moved forward. “Grace kept me informed. She told me everything about you.”
I waited, expecting her to go back to flipping through the magazine. She didn’t. She set it aside and sat up, turning so she was sitting facing me. She swung her legs off the side of the lounger, and she said, “I have to tell you something, Sheldon, and you can’t freak out.”
“Mena?”
“Promise me you won’t freak out.”
She was so earnest. I searched her eyes, studied her how she’d been contemplating me a moment before. There was no maliciousness there. No evilness. She . . . I swallowed tightly. She seemed distressed, about to confess something. My gut clenched. What the hell was she going to confess?
Then she asked, rushed, “We never really talked about it, but did Denton ever tell you about our parents? How they were best friends? You know, before my parents got a divorce.”
“What?” This was from left field. “What are you talking about?”
“Just bear with me.” She sounded so patient and a maniacal laugh ripped from me. She was calm, and I was ready to launch from my lounger. There was irony there somehow. “Sheldon?”
“Yeah, yeah. Yes, he told me, but I was there. I remember those times. It was fun.” And it had been, before something happened. “Your parents got a divorce and stopped being friends with my parents.”
“But do you know why?”
“Who cares?” I grimaced. “I mean, you might. I’m sorry.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Same old Sheldon. You’re always so funny.”
“I’ll grab it. Hold on.”
See? Protecting her. That’s what I was doing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SHELDON
“Marcus and I were friends.”
The words were spoken casually. Mena was applying tanning lotion on her arms beside me, at the hotel’s pool. No one was paying attention to us. It was nice. For once, I felt normal. For once, I felt like everyone else. For once, I let myself breathe. Things would be fine.
Then Mena spoke, and I frowned. A little girl ran giggling past me. Her mother was fast on her heels and she swept her baby up, saying, “Oh, you. You think you’re such a little sprinter, don’t you?” There was a mixture of relief and amusement in her voice.
For some reason, that made me smile. I didn’t know why, but I would remember this moment, years later, and wonder why that detail stuck out to me.
“What did you say?” I asked Mena, shielded my eyes with my hand to my forehead. I thought she said—no. I laughed. That couldn’t be.
“Marcus.”
She said his name again.
My heart paused, one solid beat, as his name sunk in. “What?” I felt gutted.
She nodded. “He was my friend.” Her voice was carefree, like we were discussing if we should go for coffee or not. Then she paused and looked up, meeting my gaze. “We talked about you a lot.”
“Wai—what?” I swallowed. “You mean like Leisha and Bailey? Was he going to do the same thing to you?”
She laughed again. The light-heartedness of it sent chills down my back. “No, Sheldon. Not like that. I wasn’t like those girls.”
“But,” she had to have been. “Mena, we were friends. He targeted those girls because of me. It would make sense if he had . . .” I trailed off. She was so confident, so sure. And a bad feeling took root in my stomach.
A part of me knew before she said the words, but it still didn’t temper the shock when I heard, “He didn’t pick those girls, Sheldon. You’re silly if you think that.”
“Wha—who—” I stopped again. Chills were all over my body, I felt them in my spine, wrapping around my feet, even moving up to my teeth. They began to chatter together now. “Mena, w-what are you saying?”
She gave me a smile. It was so sweet, but so menacing at the same time. She said, “When’s Carolina coming today?”
“Caro—what?” My heart was racing now, and Mena narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to the side as she studied me. I tried to give her a smile. I failed, but I murmured, as my hand slipped from my leg to the phone beside me. Mena didn’t know it was there.
I thought back now. She had been watching me. She saw me put my phone in my bag and then move the bag underneath my chair.
Thoughts were whirling in my head. I had to get help. I had to notify someone.
She had turned away. When the waiter came over to get our drink order, I gave him the wrong card. She went to grab it for me. She had gotten up from the chair to go over to him. That was when I grabbed my phone and laid it beside me, not thinking.
Thank god.
I had put my bag back. It wouldn’t look any different. She wouldn’t have any idea.
“Sheldon?”
“What?”
Mena was still frowning, her eyes roaming all over my face as she returned to the lounger next to me. “Did you call Carolina? Is she coming today?”
“No.” I forced the ends of my mouth up. “I mean, she has a meeting. She can’t come today.”
“That’s too bad.” She looked down at her lap.
“Why?”
“Huh?” Her head lifted back up. “What?”
“Why?” I swallowed over a lump. “Why is that too bad?”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “No reason. I don’t know her that well, but she seemed nice at the hospital. I’ve heard a lot about her.”
“From who?” As I kept asking questions, I dialed the first saved number on my phone, then I remembered it was my mother’s and I could’ve cursed myself. I didn’t know why I kept her number the first on the list, but it was there and I started a silent prayer, hoping she’d answer, hoping she’d figure it out.
Please, Mom. Please be a mom for once in your life.
“Grace.”
“What?” I jerked upright. Grace?
Mena reared back from confusion. “Are you okay, Sheldon?”
“Y-y-yeah.” Another smile. Another attempt. “What were you saying before? Grace told you about Carolina?”
“Yeah.” A speculative look entered her eyes and her eyebrows moved forward. “Grace kept me informed. She told me everything about you.”
I waited, expecting her to go back to flipping through the magazine. She didn’t. She set it aside and sat up, turning so she was sitting facing me. She swung her legs off the side of the lounger, and she said, “I have to tell you something, Sheldon, and you can’t freak out.”
“Mena?”
“Promise me you won’t freak out.”
She was so earnest. I searched her eyes, studied her how she’d been contemplating me a moment before. There was no maliciousness there. No evilness. She . . . I swallowed tightly. She seemed distressed, about to confess something. My gut clenched. What the hell was she going to confess?
Then she asked, rushed, “We never really talked about it, but did Denton ever tell you about our parents? How they were best friends? You know, before my parents got a divorce.”
“What?” This was from left field. “What are you talking about?”
“Just bear with me.” She sounded so patient and a maniacal laugh ripped from me. She was calm, and I was ready to launch from my lounger. There was irony there somehow. “Sheldon?”
“Yeah, yeah. Yes, he told me, but I was there. I remember those times. It was fun.” And it had been, before something happened. “Your parents got a divorce and stopped being friends with my parents.”
“But do you know why?”
“Who cares?” I grimaced. “I mean, you might. I’m sorry.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Same old Sheldon. You’re always so funny.”
