Chapter 28: Sebastian - Hunter or Hunted

I’d worried that this would be hard for Gwen. Now, I couldn’t remember why.

She and Mallory came outside giggling like old friends. Edwards’ demeanor invited lighthearted fun from anyone he interacted with, but Simone—who I would’ve described the same way yesterday—was the one tripping over her words. Gwen broke that ice away, asking Edwards how he knew so-and-so, relating the topic back to Simone’s hobbies and interests.

Kids ran up to Gwen and asked her to help them tie their shoes or fasten their too-big gloves in place. Like they’d known her forever. Like she was already a part of this community.

Honestly, she got along with all these people I’d called friends better than I did. If you asked her about her social skills, she’d say she was horrible with people. This party proved the contrary.

Did she really believe she was bad with people? Or had her years in hell simply paused the communication skills she excelled in?

When she left the fold-up camping chair beside me to grab us drinks by the back door, she kicked up a conversation with Alexis, who I only knew in passing. She’d been on the cheerleading squad with Sarah in high school. Now she had a son around Gabby’s age, so we saw each other at Chris and Mallory’s parties.

But Gwen was already laughing with her about something I couldn’t hear over the music and crackling of the fire. Like they’d been friends for years. Like she belonged here.

If we’d met anywhere but the ranch, would Gwen have even noticed me? It didn’t matter, really. In a moment like this, I just had to ask how I got so lucky.

When she came back, smiling with a beer in one hand and a wine cooler in another, she scrunched up her eyes and wiggled her nose at me. “What’re you looking at me like that for?”

Laughing, I took the drink and pushed a snow-sprinkled curl from her face. “You just amaze me.”

She snorted. “Because I got you a drink?”

“Because you fit right in.”

I glanced around the bustling crowd. Simone and Edwards on the other side of the fire, Mallory in Chris’s lap on the patio, a dozen or two familiar faces laughing and embracing each other and swaying around the snow-dusted brick pavers.

“You walk around here like you own the place,” I said.

“I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment.” She rolled onto her tiptoes and gave me a quick kiss. “But I’m in a good mood, so I’ll assume the latter.”

“Definitely a compliment,” I said. “You fit right in.”

“Everybody’s really nice.” She shrugged, shoulder brushing mine as she surveyed the crowd. “And I guess I was wrong, by the way. You do have friends.”

“Nah, you were right,” I said. “I have a lot of people I’m friendly with, but Edwards is the only one I’d consider a friend. When I was at college, I made a lot of friends. We still talk online sometimes. But around here, I’m always gonna be Seabass. Sarah’s little brother.”

Her blue eyes softened. She tossed an arm around my shoulders and fiddled with a wave of hair at the nape of my neck. “Well, you’re always gonna be Sebastian to me. The hot vet and tortured artist.”

I laughed and tucked an arm around her waist. “I’m glad everybody likes you, though. Maybe now, they’ll start calling me Gwen’s boyfriend.”

She swatted me in the chest, shadows from the fire dancing on her cheeks. “Stop it. They also call you Lizzie’s uncle.”

“Fair point.” My posture stayed soft, and a smile played at the corners of my lips.

I hadn’t said that for pity. Just for context. I didn’t mind being the ghost of the golden girl. I loved my sister. Her shadow had been a nice one to grow up in.

It just made it hard to form connections around here. I would always be attached to the Everett name in this town.

“Mallory’s really nice,” Gwen said. “She asked me to teach Gabby piano.”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “Are you gonna⁠—”

The song changed, and Gwen gasped. It took a moment for my ears to adjust. By the time they did, Gwen was singing, swaying side to side, and glancing past me for Simone. They locked eyes, grinning, and synchronized. A heartbeat or two longer, and almost everyone in the crowd was singing along to our generation’s Sweet Caroline or Don’t Stop Believing.

Mr. Brightside by The Killers.

The chorus had barely started, and everyone sitting was on their feet. Singing, and jumping, and swaying, and laughing. Normally, I’d be on the outskirts, but Gwen had my hand, and she wasn’t letting go.

Edwards and I stood in similar shoes, guided by our girlfriends toward the patio. Mallory dragged Chris out. The kids were close behind. A moment ago, they were hanging out by the fire, and now they were jumping and singing and dancing between us all.

Junie ran up to her mom, screaming the lyrics with Gabby at her side. Chris lifted his daughter into the air, radiating the same joy and excitement as the little girl in his arms. Aidan and Lizzie were in front of each other, bouncing on the tips of their toes, tossing their heads side to side.

And then there was Gwen, yelling the lyrics with a smile into her best friend’s face, and then mine. Even in the cold winter wind, sweat pearled her brow, plastering little red tendrils to her cheeks. The smile across her lips as she grabbed my shoulders and popped her hips left and right had my heart on fire and a feeling I couldn’t put into words exploding in my chest.

A strange cross of excitement and comfort and joy and peace and love. So much love.

This was community. Friendship and romance and fun and hope.

Belonging. Maybe that was the word I was looking for.

That look on Gwen’s face, on Lizzie’s, on Edwards’, and even Simone’s. I wished I could take a photograph of it. I wanted to paint it later. I wanted to embody this feeling in a piece of art we could all look back on in twenty years and say, See? We belonged. We were happy, and we belonged.

Until the scream.

Just as the song ended, a scream rang out.

“Mommy!”

Not an Ow, I fell down, kind of scream.

A terrified, Something’s really wrong, kind of scream.

All our heads whipped around.

Junie, who’d been jumping and singing and dancing a moment ago, stood on the outskirts of the patio. A figure stood before her. I couldn’t make out who at first, not even their gender. Not until I saw the manicured fingers wrapped around Junie’s wrist, long nails digging into the little girl’s pale skin.

“Mommy, she won’t let go!”

Speechless, eyes wider than the midnight sky overhead, Simone shoved past Edwards and Gwen and anyone else in her way. She sprinted to her daughter.

The woman released Junie’s wrist. “Aw, I wasn’t trying to hurt⁠—”

“I’ve got you, baby.” Simone hoisted Junie to her hip. Half her size or not, she wrapped her arms around the sobbing child and locked eyes with the woman. “You need to leave, Angela.”

Angela.

Of course it was Angela.

She looked different than she had in her mugshot. More put together. Rather than a mop atop her head, brown curls dangled around her sharp features. The hollowed-in cheeks were similar, as were the cold, vacant eyes.

They narrowed as all the eyes turned on her. The music dulled to silence. So did the crowd.

“I was just saying hi, Jess,” Angela began. “I⁠—”

“I’m sorry.” Mallory’s voice carried as she pushed through the crowd. Standing beside Simone, her tone stayed neutral, which was lethal compared to her bubbly nature. “Who are you?”

“I’m so sorry,” Simone began. “I don’t know how she⁠—”

“Jess’s mother-in-law.” Angela waved Simone off. Even from a few yards away, I caught the scent of alcohol on her breath. “Or Sloan, is it? Is that what you go by these days?”

“Shit,” Gwen said, finally letting go of my hand. She jogged up behind Simone.

I stayed at Gwen’s flank.

“Great, nice to meet you.” Mallory stepped between them and crossed her arms, giving Angela a once-over. “Who invited you?”

The smile that came to Angela’s lips walked the line of embarrassment and pride. She surveyed the crowd and propped her hands on her hips. “I heard all the excitement and figured I’d pop in. I thought that looked like my granddau⁠—”

“So, no one invited you?” Mallory cocked her head to the side.

“No,” Edwards said, pushing past us to Simone. “No one invited you, Angela. You need to leave.”

Something between a scoff and a laugh escaped her. She gave Edwards a once-over. “And who are you?”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Edwards snapped. “The owner of this home wants you to leave, so you need to leave, Miss⁠—”

Shock ripped Angela’s mouth open. A humorless laugh escaped her as she looked over Simone, then Edwards. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. That’s how you’re getting away with it. This is so like you, Jess.”

“Stop,” Simone said, voice low, still bouncing the crying girl in her arms. “Just stop, Angela. Go.”

“Why, because you don’t want your friends to know who you really are?” Angela waved Simone off. “Your name’s Jess. Jessica Lowry. You’re the same little junkie whore you were ten years ago. But now you’re sleeping with the pigs to get off a murder charge, aren’t you?”

Mallory’s eyes widened. She looked at Edwards, then Simone, then me.

“Alright, let’s go.” Edwards started past us and reached out for Angela’s wrist.

Angela jerked it away, backpedaling. “I’m leaving.”

Edwards started to say, “Then go⁠—”

“But everybody’s gonna know, Jess!” Angela called, walking backward down the path that framed the house. “I’ll make sure everybody knows. You killed my son. Did you hear that, Junie? Mommy killed your daddy. And she’s gonna pay for it. No matter how many cops she sleeps with, she’s gonna pay for what she did!”

Angela kept yelling, but the farther she went, the less audible it became.

“I’m so sorry,” Simone kept saying to Mallory.

Wide eyed, hand hesitant, Mallory reached out to comfort her, but Simone was already turning toward us. Teary-eyed, almost inaudible, she said to Gwen, “Can we go?”

“I’ll meet you guys out at the car,” I said, running a hand over Gwen’s back.

She nodded in thanks, and the two of them started down the path, opposite of the one Angela took.

“She’s batshit,” Edwards said to Mallory. The music kicked back on, but Mallory still stood there in silent shock. “Nothing she said was true, alright? I’ll explain everything later, but⁠—”

“Go with them,” I told him. “I gotta talk to Liz.”

Apparently agreeing, he jogged after Gwen and Simone.

Just as I turned around to find Lizzie, Mallory caught my elbow. “Okay, somebody has to fill me in here.”

“Edwards did,” I said. “You know Simone’s story. You know how it is for all the women at the ranch.”

“The ranch is supposed to be safe,” Mallory said, a hint of judgment in her tone. “If that woman is telling the truth⁠—”

“Her drug-dealing son turned up here trying to kidnap Junie, beat the shit out of Simone, and ran,” I said. “The way guys like him always do. You know Simone, alright? Believe her. Not her ex’s crazy mother. You want the whole story, ask her for it, but god damn, dude. You’re not the victim here. I don’t have time for this.”