Chapter eleven
Suspect? Murderer? The looks I’d thought I’d seen in Veronica’s and Candy’s eyes had been right. Suspicion. My heart was pounding as I paced my bedroom later that night on an empty stomach. The thought of food made me want to hurl, so I skipped dinner. Suspect. Murderer. Those words were foreign to me. Not in the sense that I didn’t understand what they meant, but because I couldn’t associate their meanings with me. The words shot across all my nerves, like tiny shards of glass, fraying them, slicing them open.
Did my dad really think that was why Detective Ramirez was questioning me? Because the detective thought I’d killed Cassie? And did my friends think the same thing? They couldn’t. It didn’t make sense. I’d been hurt, too, obviously. Bad enough that everything that was me, all that I knew, was gone.
And I could never kill a person. Didn’t they know that? There was still a chance that what had happened had been some kind of freakish accident. I knew enough to know there’d be an autopsy done to determine cause of death.
Stopping in front of the mirror in my closet, I swallowed the lump of fear that rose in my throat before it could consume me. My reflection stared back at me, cheeks pale against the cinnamon tone of my hair. With my face devoid of makeup, I looked a lot younger than I did in the photos. There was a skittish glint to my eyes, one I doubted the old Sammy sported.
“I would never hurt Cassie,” I said, needing to hear someone, even if it was me, say it.
My reflection tilted her head, lips curving up in a mockery of a smile. “Liar.”
Gasping, I stumbled back, tripping over the stupid teddy bear on the floor. I hit the side of the bed hip-first. Fresh pain exploded as my pulse pounded wildly.
There was no one in the mirror now.
Body shaking, I tucked my legs under me and stood. The movement jarred the bed and the table beside it. Already off-kilter from when Del had messed with it, the music box fell to the floor, uttering two weak, broken musical notes that sent chills dancing down my spine.
I picked up the box, turning it onto its side. An opening on the bottom had popped out when it fell, wide enough to fit half a deck of cards. The slot looked empty, and in a daze, I closed it and placed it back on the table.
A sick, twisting feeling built in the pit of my stomach as I turned around, pushing the long strands of hair out of my face. Sharp tingles traveled down my back, and I was suddenly too hot and the room was too small.
My reflection had spoken back to me.
That was officially crazy sauce.
I started pacing again, avoiding my reflection just in case it decided to have another impromptu conversation. What just happened could not have been a memory, and there was no way I could explain it as anything other than a good ol’-fashioned delusion.
I’d imagined calling myself a liar after I said I couldn’t hurt someone. Nice, really nice. Tucking my hair back, I dragged in a deep breath, but it got constricted in my chest. Needing to get out of the room and possibly even the house, I threw open the door and rushed out into the hallway.
Rounding the corner, I smacked right into a rock-hard body with enough force that the poor guy let out a grunt and hit the floor. Thrown off balance, I toppled down on top of him. In a second, I recognized the clean, citrusy scent.
Carson.
Our bodies were pressed together in all the wrong places. Or the right places, depending on how I wanted to look at it. Not that I thought it was right. It was definitely wrong, especially the way his chest felt incredibly muscled under mine, his stomach like steel. Heat zinged through my veins.
Carson’s hand curved around my waist as his head lifted slightly. We were so close I could see the darker flecks of blue near his pupils. So close that his warmth breathed new life into the dark, empty spaces inside me. My gaze fell to his lips, and I wanted to know so, so badly how they felt. To taste his kiss. To let go of all the strings tethering me to the old Sammy and lose myself in him. Funny how all my worries about being insane suddenly went out the window.
Those lips spread into a crooked half smile. “Hey there, Sam....”
“Hey,” I whispered. “Were you coming to see me?”
His smile spread into a full one, and my heart skipped a beat. One of his front teeth was chipped at the bottom. “I was actually here to see Scott, but...”
“Oh.” I felt like the biggest dork ever. “Then you better get going.”
“Yeah, I should.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, and my stomach tightened. “But you’re going to have to get off me first. No rush. Just saying.”
My cheeks caught fire. “Good point.”
“It is,” he murmured.
I still hadn’t moved. The apocalypse could be going down outside and I would remain right where I was. My body pressed against Carson, his hand tightening on my waist.
So caught up in whatever this was, neither of us heard my brother until he spoke. “Do I want to know what you guys are doing?”
Carson chuckled deeply, and I felt the sound in every cell. “We’re just wrestling.”
“Really,” Scott replied drily.
I rolled off Carson and pushed to my feet. “I ran into him—in the hallway and knocked him down.” I felt the need to explain. “We weren’t wrestling ... or doing anything.”
Scott’s lips twitched as if he was fighting a grin. “It’s all right, Sam. I’d rather see you rolling around with Carson out in the open than Del.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s not—”
“Hey!” Carson said, dropping his arm around my shoulder. “We have your brother’s permission.”
“Man, you must really hate Del,” I said, ignoring the way the whole left side of my body was pressed against Carson’s.