Page 83 of Writing On The Wall

I throw my hands up, half-turning before looking back at my ghost of a brother. “This again? I’m starting to think you’d sell this house out from under me if you could. When does it end?”

He chews on his lip, the ball of his foot bouncing nervously. “Are you saying you don’t have it?”

“I’m saying you can’t have it.”

He presses his palms into his eye sockets, then slides his hands up to clench his hair. With a resigned sigh, he nods and walks away.

I march after him only to be met by the reverberating slam of the front door. I engage the locks for the second time, banging my palm against the wood before turning to slide down to the floor. Why can’t anything ever be normal with us? This habit from the past keeps ringing in my ears, nagging me to give in and fix everything. But I know I can’t anymore. I’m Bilbo Baggins, feeling like butter scraped over too much bread, andnot even the good butter. I’m the generic, store-bought kind that’s been surreptitiously swapped, wrapped, and slotted into a box of the fancy stuff. I feel like a fraud, walking around pretending that everything is fine. I’m fine. I’m thriving.

Except I’m not.

And that’s when I know Ethan is right, and I have to talk to C.J. There’s still the fear that once she sees my struggles, she’ll declare she hates the generic, store-bought stuff and I’ve repulsed her with my duplicity.

But I guess there’s only one way to find out.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

ETHAN

There’s a buzzing sound that keeps pulling me in. No…not pulling me in—pulling me out. Out of this blissful, deep sleep. My hand shoots out, swatting at my bedside table in search of the source of the noise.

Something crashes to the ground, yanking me awake.

It’s my phone. One hand rubs at my eyes while the other reaches down to pat the floor until I grab the offending device, which has started buzzing again.

“Hello?” I croak, not awake enough to bother checking to see who’s calling.

“Babe. Put some pants on. We’re going on a mission.”

“Wh—how do you…Ivy—” I pull the phone away, squinting at the offensively bright screen to read the time. “It’s one AM.”

“Correct. I’m on my way to you. I’ll explain when I get there. Dress in dark clothing. Oh, can you pick a lock?”

I sit up, rubbing a hand down my face. There’s never a dull moment with this woman. “Uh…Colton and I practiced a few times as kids. But I haven’t done it in a while. It’s kinda frowned upon.”

“Well, it’s a green flag for me. Splash some water on your face. I’m almost at your place.”

Three minutes later, I’ve done as instructed in addition to swishing some toothpaste around in my mouth. I’m guessing middle-of-the-night breath is the same as morning breath. Ivy pulls into my driveway, looking way too alert for this time of the morning. But she’s also ridiculously stunning. She’s like a fairy or an elf…something magical and too beautiful to be human. There isn’t much light besides the ones on my front porch, but it all seems to glint off her hair, making her glow.

I slide into the passenger seat, flashing her a sleepy smile and pulling off my baseball cap. “If we’re going to be sneaking around, you’ll need to cover up your golden locks.” I tighten the strap and slip the hat onto her head. “Now, tell me whose body we’re burying.”

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight, we’re thieves.” She wags her eyebrows as she drives.

“Explain.”

She sighs. “Something isn’t sitting well. Like, how does Ross know about the music box? There’s no way he figured it out on his own. Plus, he was in my house a few weeks ago when I came home?—”

I choke. “Wait—hold up. He was in your house! How’d he get in?”

“He also practiced some of these skills as a kid.” She quirks the side of her mouth. “Anyway, he was acting weird—fidgety. Almost guilty. I know that look. But it didn’t click until the other day, when a kid in my class had the same look. He’d done something he shouldn’t have. And I realized Ross did something that day, or maybe he took something. And if he found something, then it has to be with him.”

“That’s quite a leap, though.”

“I know Ross.” She glances at me before setting her eyesback on the road. The way she gestures with her hands as she drives, so passionate and fired up… Gah, I just want to pull her in and kiss the heck out of her.

“He’s always kept a small box taped under the seat of his car,” she continues, and I do my best to focus on what she’s saying. “When we were kids, he’d tape it under his bed, so you couldn’t see it unless you gotreallylow. But he hasn’t lived in one place long enough to do it. I’m telling you, whatever he’s found, it’s in his car.”

“So, we’re breaking into his car? How do you know where it is?”

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