Page 33 of Scatter the Bones

“I’m not trying to be dense.” I pause and try to consider my words for once. “I hate that something like that is bothering her so much. That’s all.”

“So do I, brother. Which is why I’m glad Mallory found this therapist?—”

“Wait, so Mallory knows?”

He shrugs. “Shelby and Angelina are tight. I think Angelina asked her mom for some advice since she went through something similar in the nineties.”

“Forgot she was on that old show.” I tap his phone. “It’s way worse now, though. Mallory didn’t have the constant stream of vitriol from social media to deal with.”

“Exactly.” He drills me with a hard stare. “Now, forget I told you any of this.”

“Already forgotten, brother.” I tilt my head and study my best friend. “You doing all right? After everything you two have been through together, it must be killing you not to track down some of these assholes and beat some manners into them.”

He squeezes his hands into fists then releases. “Big things are happening for her. I’m damn proud of everything she’s accomplished, so yeah, I hate that some fuckwad losers get in her head. But she’s taking the right steps to deal with it. I’m trying to support her the best way I can.” His expression relaxes. “You’re right, though. I’mnotthrilled she’s down in the city without me, but I talked to her last night and she sounded happy.”

“Good. When you’re ready to track down some of these assholes and fuck them up, let me know.”

“Who says I haven’t?” He flashes a savage grin. “I can do a lot of damage without even being in the same state as these little trolls.”

“There’s the ruthless Rooster I know.” I slap his arm.

“So, where’ve you been?” Rooster arches a brow. “I sent you a couple texts last night.”

Guilt presses tight against my chest. I turned my phone off yesterday and haven’t even bothered to check it yet today. Something about cutting myself off from the world seemed very freeing.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and set it on the table. “I think it’s dead. Can I borrow your charger?”

He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the counter where he keeps a charging station. It’s probably not dead but it felt like a good excuse to avoid explaining my absence. I plug it in and turn it on.

The screen lights up with several notifications. A bunch from Rooster, which I ignore since I’m standing right here in his kitchen talking to him.

Princess PITA: Look!

A picture of Jezzie throwing a wobbly-looking disk of dough in the air follows. Sent yesterday. I type a quick reply.

Me: Good job.

How the hell am I going to tell her about Cain? Maybe I should wait until she’s finished with this semester.

Z: All good?

I shoot off a quick yes. The rest is noise—group chats I can barely keep up with even when I’m home. I skim, don’t respond.

Margot hasn’t sent me anything else since my last short, cold response.

Can’t blame her.

My thumb hovers over the screen. I don’t even know what to say.

“Why’s Shelby asking me where you are?” Rooster sets his phone on the table with a noisy clunk.

I return to my seat and flash an obnoxious grin. “Probably because our little songbird was vibrating with the universe and knew we were together talking about her?”

He glares. “No. Margot texted her. Asked if I knew where you were.”

My insides seize. “She did?”

“So, if you weren’t at Margot’s…” He narrows his eyes. “Where have you been?”

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