Page 44 of Drown in You

He purposely left his sweats hanging low on his hips, proudly displaying the mouthwatering V that descends into his waistband. The Adonis belt. As a nursing major, I’ve been required to study male anatomy, and Luke Valentine is the best specimen I’ve ever seen.

I scramble for the orange juice in the middle of the table, tempted to drink from the jug but managing to pour a glass before chugging. “I shared my bacon with Bud.”

“Careful. If he likes you too much, he won’t let you leave.” Luke sets a laptop down on the table in front of him, propping it open. The screen prompts him for a password. “What do you think Mike’s password is?”

“Why are you trying to get into his laptop?”

“To dig up dirt,” he says simply.

At least he’s honest. I wish I could be as blunt and honest as he is. “I’m not helping you snoop on my father.”

Luke glares at me. “He screwed your mom over, didn’t he? Left her with a kid to take care of all on her own? Left her heartbroken. You think my mom deserves to go through that?”

Well, damn. That’s hard to argue with. My father may be trying to make amends now, but if Luke thinks he’s hiding something, I don’t want Deb getting screwed over. I don’t want her to go through what my mother has been going through for years.

“Click on the hint.” When he does, the hint prompts him to enter my birthday. I can’t help but smile that Dad made my birthday his password. “Oh, it’s?—”

Luke’s fingers fly across the keyboard, and he’s in, going straight to my father’s saved documents.

The back of my neck prickles. “How did you know my birthday?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and my mind whirls with all the possibilities until he finally says, “Just did a little light stalking.”

With access to my father’s laptop, Luke’s search keeps his attention. I stuff eggs and bacon into my mouth, trying to suppress the insane thoughts swirling in my head.

What if Luke is Ten? He knows my birthday; he knew my dad only sent me cards and called me on my birthday for years. They’re both into hockey, they share the same major, and both lost their dads. Our parents dated years ago, and he seemed weirdly interested in Ten but not jealous. He gave me the ten dozen flowers I wanted from Ten and a disposable camera when we met, days after I told Ten I wanted one, and the way he kissed my bruises that first night...it was like he already cared about me. Already knew me.

I shove the thought away. It’d be easy for him to find out my birthday, and plenty of hockey players plan to become kinesiologists or physical therapists. Lots of people lose a parent when they’re young, and my father told him about the cards and birthday phone calls. He gave me flowers and kissed my bruises because, despite his possessive streak, he’s also surprisingly sweet. And the disposable camera was nothing more than a coincidence—a cute, vintage wedding favor for the guests at our parents’ reception.

Ten lives in California. Hell, he has a phone number with a California area code. Besides, Luke would’ve told me he was Ten when we finally met. The odds of them being the same person are ridiculously low. I’m only imagining they are because I miss my friend. Nothing more than wishful thinking.

My phone buzzes, but it’s not Juliet this time. It’s not Mom or Dad either, and of course, it’s not Ten.

It’s Marcus.

This time, he’s included a photo with his message. My stomach drops.

A dark image that displays a line of knives and rope.

Unknown

I’ve got plans for you.

“Sienna? What’s wrong?” Luke asks.

Heart racing, I force a smile and tuck my phone into my shorts pocket. Luke’s pocket.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” I stand, stuffing a slice of bacon in my mouth even though I’ve lost my appetite and beelining out of the room. “I’m going to grab my stuff so you can take me back to campus. Juliet needs help studying.”

“Sienna!”

But I don’t stop. I can’t let him see the tears pooling. I can’t let anyone see Marcus break me. Not again.

Violet works behind the front desk in the library while I sit at a table across from Juliet. She’s working on a profile of a serial killer for one of her psychology classes, and I’ve never seen her work this hard on anything.

I love my best friend, but she disturbs me.

I snap a photo of her with my disposable camera. She narrows her eyes at it. “Where the hell did you get that?”

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