Page 55 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
My arm is around her before she’s finished asking, delicately helping her stand back up. I guide her toward the back door at the end of the kitchen. Once we’re home, we can text the others to get the hell out. The commotion behind us is a dull din, ringing in my ears as we rush out of the house. We’re halfway across the backyard, shielding ourselves from dirty stares, when a hand closes around my arm.
“Devin, I’m so sorry,” Julian pants out, struggling to catch his breath. “I swear, I had no idea, and if I did, I would’ve—”
“Let me go, Julian.” I’m not mad at him. If anything, I’m grateful that we have him as a buffer between us and the real enemies. But I can’t look at him, not right now.
He lets me go without question, backing away to give us space. He might’ve said something else, something about texting him if we need anything, but I only care about Maya.
We fall apart once we’ve made it back to the cabin. Maya’s whimpers shift into sobs as we rush to the kitchen to turn on the tap. She peels herself out of the jacket, pushing away the damp towel I hold to her face to wipe at the sleeves instead. The chowder gunk is gone after some careful scrubbing, the leather marred with scratches and the first signs of peeled edges. We lean in too close, holding the jacket like a lifeline, bracing ourselves for the scent of lilac to keep us grounded.
But it’s gone now. Just like that, they’ve taken a piece of Mami away from us. The first of many, if they get their way.
We sink to the floor, soaked in chowder and freshly shed tears, holding the jacket reverently between our laps. It’s onlya matter of time before the others come home. Even without the warning, the news must’ve spread.
My hand finds Maya’s, our fingers linked on top of the jacket. There’s nothing worth saying that’ll make either of us feel any better, not plans for revenge or insults or schemes. So we say nothing and split the pain. The way we always have.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“So when you get ‘the eagle has landed’ text, what’re you going to do?” Maya quizzes me for the fourth time that afternoon.
“Run away into the woods to live the rest of my life as a hermit.”
She stops long enough to smack me over the head.
“I’m going to get them to come outside!” I concede, shielding myself from her wrath.
“Good.” She backs off and settles down beside the chimney. “I’m still working on my aim, so I’d suggest ducking. Or taking cover, whatever’s easier.”
While I’m very on board with the idea of making the Seo-Cookes pay for what they did at the barbecue, I can’t say the same about Maya’s plan for revenge. To be clear, it’s not that I’m opposed to slinging water balloons filled with pig’sblood at Stella and Henry. I’d just rather not have to be the Trojan horse.
“Why can’t we lure them out with a fake pizza delivery or something?”
Maya rolls her eyes, scoffing at my insolence. “Because that would only get one Seo-Cooke outside, and what good is using our secret weapon if we can’t get a three-for-one?”
She has a point. We don’t know how to track down Liam to get back at him, and we can’t just stand around the water park hoping he might show up, so Stella and Henry will have to do.
Considering our cabin’s less-than-stellar stability, I don’t trust the idea of both of us being on the roof at the same time, but it seems to hold our weight pretty well. We set up camp behind the chimney, the one spot that’s hidden enough to work. Finding pig’s blood on Christmas Eve was no easy feat, but Dad pulled it off, disappearing in the middle of the afternoon and returning two hours later with enough pig’s blood for two dozen balloons, no questions asked.
Despite Isabel’s best efforts, Christmas was a somber affair. We threw on smiles for morning waffles and opening our few, modest presents while Mariah Carey belted out of Maya’s new Bluetooth speaker. But in this cabin that feels trapped in time, we can’t find it in us to embrace new traditions. Not when the old ones are rooted in something we don’t have the heart to let go of.
Though, spending Christmas pouring pig’s blood into water balloons does feel very on brand for this family.
Maya carefully arranges the box of blood balloons sheforced me to carry up here so that they’re out of view. “Think we’re hidden enough?”
There’s a clear shot if I can get them to the right spot and Maya keeps her aim sharp. “We should be. Unless they’re on the lookout for snipers.”
She ignores my joke to admire her handiwork, picking up one of the balloons and lightly tossing it between her hands. “You ready?”
“No.”
“Great.” She pushes me toward the ladder back down to the living room. “Good luck in there.”
Yeah, I’ll need it.
I swallow hard, bracing myself as we both climb down the ladder. Maya heads back to her room to grab some last-minute materials while I make my way over to the Seo-Cookes’ front door. I haven’t had to ring the bell since my first visit, but today feels unusually formal. The few times Julian and I have texted since the incident have been stilted, mainly him apologizing profusely. We chatted briefly about our respective Christmases, both of which sounded equally depressing. As predicted, Mr. Cooke stuck around long enough to watch them open their presents before bailing to go play a round of golf.
If I wasn’t being sent into the enemy’s lair on yet another high-stakes mission, I might even look forward to it. The few days without Julian’s culinary experiments or him sneaking up behind me have been weird. And full of animal blood and plans for revenge. Lonely, too. Christmas has been a loaded day ever since Mami died, and I could use a break right about now.
“Hey,” Julian greets, his expression flipping between relief and panic.
