Page 5 of A Killing Cold

“Some of the others are more modest,” he tells me almost defensively as I experimentally turn on the rainfall showerhead. I hold out my hand to let it patter against my palm.

“I’m not complaining,” I assure him with a laugh, shutting the water off again. “But you can’t blame me for being a little awestruck. Your family owns a wholemountain, Connor.”

“Not the whole mountain,” he protests. Then he grins. “Just the nice parts.”

“Ha ha.”

Connor puts a hand on my shoulder. “If you want to unpack, maybe take a shower, I should really go find out what Alexis wanted to talk about.”

“Oh.” I nod convulsively. “Of course. No problem.”

“Unless it is?” he prompts.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be just fine by myself for a bit,” I tell him, though I don’t want to be alone right now, right here. It’s important that I not seem too needy. Too broken.

He kisses me again before he ducks out the door, a blast of cool air swirling past him. I stand alone in the quiet of the house, nothing but the drone of the fridge to drown out the sound of my own breath and pulse.

Connor’s left his phone on the kitchen table.

I have a few bad habits. A history of looking where I shouldn’t. Of taking what isn’t mine. But I’ve been good, with Connor. I have to be.

It’s not the same, I tell myself. All I need is to check one contact.

I pick up the phone, and then cross to where I dropped my purse beside the door. I dig out my own phone and unlock it, pulling up the texts. There are five of them altogether.

I know who you are,the first text says. Followed quickly by the second:I know what you did.

And then, a few days after that:I know what you’re doing now.

You’re making a mistake.

Stay away from Connor Dalton.

Each time one of the texts arrived, I hoped it would be the last. But they haven’t stopped. It could be someone messing with me. A romantic rival. Someone with a grudge against Connor. There are at least a half dozen explanations that aren’t the worst-case scenario.

That someone really does know about my past. The things I have never told Connor—can’t ever tell him.

I unlock Connor’s phone, using the code I’ve seen him plug in countless times. I pull up his contacts and scroll through to Alexis’s number. It doesn’t match. But of course Alexis is too smart to have sent anything through a number that could be tracked to her.

I open their messages. The last one is from Alexis.

When you get here we need to talk. Alone.

There’s something I need to show you.

It was sent a few hours ago. And now Connor’s out there, finding out what’s so urgent.

Is it me she wants to talk about?

I put Connor’s phone back where I found it, swallowing against a sick sense of guilt. I go to the bedroom and sink down onto the end of the bed, my phone in my hand.

I should just tell him—tell him all of it. He’ll understand.

But what if he doesn’t? What if once he knows, he doesn’t want anything to do with me?

“I can’t,” I whisper. My vision swims. I turn on my phone, meaningto message Harper to let her know we made it safely. No signal. I give a hollow laugh and throw the phone on the bed.

Well, at least I know I won’t be getting any more texts.

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