Page 101 of Collect the Pieces

“Stand still.” Soft, gentle tugs on my hair keep me straight as an arrow as he pulls more debris from each strand. “Maybe try flipping your hair and shaking it out.”

“How bad is it?” I bend at the waist and sweep my hair forward, wiggling my fingers through it. Dirt and pine needles flutter to the ground.

I flip it back and try to tame the wild waves with my fingers. “Better?”

He presses his lips together, like he’s trying not to deliver bad news. “Less leaves. But you still look like you copulated with a wild animal.”

I poke my finger in his side. “I did.” I snort-laugh and raise my eyebrows. “Copulate, huh?”

“I loved the dictionary when I was a kid.” He grins and tugs the zipper on my sweatshirt up over my open dress. “I was keen to know each and every synonym for sex.”

“As are most kids.”

“Come on.” He holds out his hand. “Let’s go clean up. I want to get you home before it gets late.”

I try not to pout that our weekend’s over. As we walk back to the clubhouse, I’m not self-conscious or worried about running into anyone while looking so rumpled and messy.

It feels like I left that piece of myself behind—shed the shy, nervous part of me and left her with the leaves and moss.

And what’s left of me feels free, wild, and untamed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Jigsaw

I’m really notready to say goodbye to Margot when I pull into the parking lot behind the funeral home.

A car I don’t recognize is parked in a space at the edge of the lot. ‘Think your dad has a consultation?”

She frowns. “No, that’s Henry’s car. I wonder if he’s out at a pickup with Paul.”

My hands tighten on the steering wheel, barely holding back a shudder. Pickup means they’re coming back with a body.

Shit, I still don’t want to leave Margot.

“Where should I park, so I’m not in the way?”

She blinks a few times. “You’re staying?”

“Well, I want to at least walk you upstairs.”

“I thought maybe, you know, after spending the whole weekend together, you’d…”

“What? Be tired of you? Not a chance.” I reach over and rest my hand on her leg. “We’ve spent longer stretches together here.”

“That’s true.”

“Do you want me to go?”

She stares at me with the most serious, almost sad eyes. “I really don’t. I hope that doesn’t seem too…”

“It’s perfect.” I lift my chin. “Where should I park? I don’t want to be in the way when the hearse gets here.”

“Silly, we don’t use the hearse for pickups. We use a minivan.” She points to the car. “Park next to Henry.”

We get out and Margot walks around to my side.

She holds out her hand for my bag. “I can take that.” Her lips tilt with amusement. “My murder doll is in there, after all.”

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