Page 106 of Dare To Fall

“Worried or hoped?” I smile when she glances at me. “I’m joking. Pretty sure death by bear wouldn’t be painful or long enough.”

“I made dinner.”

“Oh?” I follow her through to the kitchen and prop myself against the doorframe to watch as she bends and opens the oven door.

When she straightens, she has a dish balanced between the oven mitts.

“What’s that?”

“Mac and cheese.” She sets it down. “Can you set the table, please?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I take out plates and silverware, and she fills them with the food.

“Sit down and eat.” She pulls out a chair and takes a seat.

I study her for a second, then turn and open a door to take out a bottle of wine.

“I think white would go with mac and cheese,” I say and pop the cork.

Finding two glasses, I fill them both and place one beside her plate. “Would you prefer it if I ate in my room?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

I take the seat opposite her, and we eat in silence until Ari lets her fork drop to the plate with a clatter.

“Do you have any idea who could be behind the texts?”

I take a sip of wine. “None.”

“It has to be someone who knows you well. How else would they have known you have dyscalculia?”

“Maybe they don’t and just know I hate math.”

“You hate most of the classes we take, except art. Why target math?”

She has a point. “Maybe because it’s the only class where the teacher doesn’t ask me to take part. It’s no great leap to think making me stand up and take part is going to irritate me.”

“Surely that means it’s someone from our class, then?”

“Maybe. Most of the faculty know I have dyscalculia. It’s why they don’t really complain if I’m late or skip a class.”

She lifts her glass and rolls it over her lips before taking a sip. I lick my lips, watching as she swallows the pale liquid.

“Apart from Zoey, has this ever happened before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t … you don’t think Kellan would do it, do you?”

“Kellan?”

“It makes sense, if you think about it.” She’s talking so fast that the words are tripping over each other. “He knows everything about you. Maybe he doesn’t like you spending time with anyone else. The texts didn’t start until after we … well … you know.”

“It’s not Kellan.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not Kellan, Arabella.” I drop my fork and stand. “Thanks for the food. I’m going to bed.”

---