Page 130 of Wicked Games

I want to know why he hated me and how he was able to stop.

She glances over. We’re almost at my house, and she instinctively slows.

“What do you want to do?”

I inhale. “My old house brought back memories last time.”

She makes a quick turn. “Roger that.”

I left Caleb eating breakfast with Eli. There’s no way—hopefully—he’ll pack up his stuff and go to his house. Why would he?

Besides, I don’t think he’d mind us breaking and entering…

All too soon, she pulls in the driveway and shuts off the car. “Now what?”

“Now we hope the place doesn’t have an alarm.”

“Was one burgle not enough for you?”

“What did you think I was going to do?”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, just sit in the driveway for a minute?”

I laugh. “You didn’t have a problem with it when it was Caleb’s uncle’s house…”

I get out of the car. Either she’ll come or she won’t. But Riley is faithful, and a second later her car door creaks open, too.

“This way.” I show her down the secondary driveway that leads to the guest house. I’ve done this too many times recentlyfor it to be shocking, but I still get flickers of a younger me running past us.

Riley’s head swings around, trying to take everything in. It’s a bit overgrown, but winter is upon us. No one cares about landscaping in November.

I point to the guest house that comes into view once we’re past the garage. “I grew up there.”

“Literally in Caleb’s backyard. Damn.”

I nod.

“Okay, so where do you want to go? In there?”

“Yeah…” I scan the yard and pause on the pillar by the sliding glass doors of the main house. My feet automatically carry me in that direction, an old dream rearing its ugly head.

I crouch and stare through the window.

“What are you doing?” Riley whispers.

“I had a dream that I hid here while my mom and his dad argued in the kitchen.” I shake my head, hunkering lower. I duck my head and close my eyes. “I couldn’t hear what they were saying.”

The image comes back, but it’s still without sound. My mom throws the glass against the wall. Caleb’s dad storms away.

I grimace and open my eyes. Riley’s watching me strangely, but she doesn’t comment.

“I wonder…” I go to the sliding glass door. They used to keep a key on the top of the frame, which didn’t help Caleb or me on the off chance we got locked out—we had to make a big production of dragging a chair over, teetering on it precariously—but now… now I’m taller.

I run my fingers along the top of the frame, pausing when they trip over something cold. Metal. My chest erupts with butterflies, and I pull down a grime-covered key. It fits in the lock, audibly turning the latch on the sliding door, and then… we’re in.

I spare a single glance at the kitchen counter and go to the stairs.

“Caleb lived here?” Riley whispers. “What happened?”

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