Page 107 of Freckles

Ezra walks into the room and hesitates like he’d prefer to walk straight back out again. It’s only when Onyx comes up behind him, that he fully commits, walking to the table with a sigh. “Hey, I heard something after the game today.”

My gaze flicks to him, then away. “I couldn’t give two shits about the game.”

“Yeah, okay. But it’s… Aidan was with Francesca in the car park this afternoon.”

I slam the fridge shut, giving him my full attention. “And? Was he pressuring her to get back onto the team?”

“No, he said you threatened to knife her if he ever came near her again.”

Onyx splutters out a laugh. “Dude! And I thought I was sick.”

I dismiss him with a flick of my hand, closing in on Ezra. “He told you that? When?”

“No, he toldFrancescathat. Is it true?”

A cold shiver spreads across my shoulders, wriggling along my spine. I can’t believe I’ve been this careless.

I run back to Tyson’s room. “Any progress?”

“Nothing from ten minutes ago.” He spins on his chair, frowning at me. “You can trace her bracelet, can’t you?”

I nod. There’s a device built into the ladybug bracelet but it has one prominent drawback. Once activated, it only has a few hours of life due to the tiny battery. If she’s still on the move, it’s useless.

And there’s another truth that’s harder to face. Another reason I don’t activate the tracker despite desperately wanting to know where she is.

She left.

Whether it was Aidan’s words this afternoon or proof that the only thing holding her here was the body in her deep freeze, it doesn’t matter.

Re-examining everything, the signs are obvious. Her interest in me piqued when I mentioned body disposal, and once the corpse was gone, she simply bided her time until she had a clear shot at leaving.

I told her to give me a girlfriend experience, and it turns out Francesca was a far better actress than I gave her credit.

All the times I held her in my arms and felt like we were two sides of the same person. Every night I listened to her fall asleep, her breaths knitting closed the old wounds in my soul. For all that it felt like she was the perfect girl, my soulmate, someone to build a life with.

None of it was ever real.

I was hers but she was never, ever mine.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN

Four weeks later.

FRANCESCA

I’ve just thrown my apron into the staff laundry when Esther pops her head around the door. “Hey, Sweetie. Gosh, you look lovely today.”

I immediately straighten, clamping my lips so I don’t automatically agree to whatever favour is about to hit me. My coworker is lovely but only ever gushes when she wants something.

And right on cue. “Can you cover the late shift tomorrow, pretty please? Five till eleven?”

I glance at the roster board behind her and pull a face. “I’m already on from ten a.m.”

“Yeah, and sorry for the late notice, but Billy forgot to tell me about his musical recital until this morning. You’d really be helping me out of a tight one.”

We’ve just spent five hours working together behind the counter and this is the first she’s mentioned it. No points for guessing which parent Billy inherited his tardy information system from.

Thirteen hours straight. It sounds like hell.

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