Emma That is Dead (FREE!)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

My shoulders sink, the reality of what happened setting in. "I wonder if she knows."

"I doubt it. The police haven't even gotten a statement yet, but they did say they were tire marks. She probably swerved to avoid an animal." He blows into his hands, then rubs them together.

"You must be freezing. Do you want to warm up by the fireplace?" Smith follows me into the great room where a fire crackles in the hearth. Now that it's dark, it illuminates the room in a golden glow, the silhouette of flames dancing across the floor. "Would you like a hot chocolate? Rowan lives off of that stuff when it's cold out."

"No, thanks." Smith collapses into the couch and pats the seat next to him. I waste no time curling into his side, his arm draping across my shoulders.

We sit like this for a while, my finger trailing along the seam of his jeans, as the red and orange flames lick at the inside of the chimney. "How did you hear about Jordan?"

"Mey told Kobe and Kobe told me. I'm sorry, I assumed you knew."

"Why didn't Mey call?" I pull my phone from my pocket, and when I unlock the screen, it's blank. I swipe down to pull up past notifications, and there are two missed texts. As I read through them, consolation unfurls in my chest. "She's lucky to be alive."

"Right? Some guys from school drove out to where it happened and said her car rolled at least three hundred feet. It's a miracle she didn't end up in the ravine."

The water's deep near Fibber's Ridge. If Jordan's Jeep had gone under, there's no way she'd be alive right now. We may not even know where she is.

Bile burns my throat as I imagine her in a dark and watery grave, her auburn hair floating like pondweed around her head. When I lean back, Smith pulls me closer, but the idea of what could have happened won't let me be. It needles my gut, pricks along the back of my neck. Before I know it, I'm fighting tears, lips pressed together, body trembling as I try to hold it in.

Smith dips his head toward mine and his expression softens. "Hey, she'll be okay. Don't worry."

I nod but tears roll down my cheeks anyway, and drop from my chin onto my sweater. All the emotions I've been holding back pour out, regardless of my audience. Not only about Jordan's accident but fear of whatever Emma's hiding.

She's right—I am obsessed.

This is how it began last time: an unfortunate circumstance leading to unease and then contorting into something I couldn't even recognize. Something that grew bigger and stronger every day until it took over everything. My shoulders shake as the tension forces its way out, my lungs struggling for air.

"Arbor ..." Smith shifts next to me and tucks my hair behind my ear. He rubs small circles into my back until the flow of tears slow. "This is about more than Jordan, isn't it?" he finally asks.

When I look up, he's staring at me, worry creasing the space between his eyes.

I need to be honest and unload some of this burden. I know better than to tell him everything, but some of the weight needs lifted from my shoulders. I try to swallow past the lump in my throat but all I do is cough.

"I'll get some water." He hurries into the kitchen and rummages through the cabinets, the sound of clinking glasses loud enough to hear. When he returns, he places the glass in my hand. It's cool against my heated skin.

I take a sip, and then another, the liquid pooling in my stomach like the puddles outside. And then, because I don't know where to start or what to say, I blurt out, "Emma came through my window last night and was waiting for me when I got home."