Page 52 of Forget Me Not
I sigh, leaning farther against the pillows. Turning the mug around in my hands.
“She was dating an older guy,” I say. “A twenty-eight-year-old named Jeffrey Slater.”
I think back to the article I reread yesterday morning, the few details about him the police had shared.
“I guess he was known to hang around younger girls,” I continue, Liam’s gaze on the side of my face as he clings to my every word. “He would buy them beer, go to their parties. He had a few misdemeanors, a short stint in jail, and I guess Natalie thought that was cool. Instead of, you know, realizing how creepy it was.”
“Kids are so vulnerable at that age,” Liam responds, and I find myself nodding. The fact that my sister probably never even consideredsomeone like that might cause her harm. “They think they’re invincible. Like the concept of mortality doesn’t even apply.”
“Yeah,” I say, the word getting lost as a rumble of thunder cuts between us, the sound strong enough to rattle the house. Then I watch as Liam grabs the bottle, pouring another splash into each of our cups.
“To Natalie,” he says as he holds out his arm, his mug suspended up in the air. Then I clear my throat, an attempt to swallow the sob climbing its way up.
“To Natalie,” I repeat as a total silence settles around us, broken only by the softclinkof our mugs in the dark.
CHAPTER 34
I open my eyes to a startling light, the sun outside blindingly bright.
The rain must have stopped while I was asleep and I spend a few seconds listening to the birds chirping in the trees, the cicadas singing their song in the distance. The kind of slow, serene morning that seems somehow jarring after the violence of the storm that came before it.
I fling off the covers, the sweat coating my arms alerting me to the fact that the power is still out.
I glance over at the sink, the two sticky mugs sitting in the bottom prompting my memories of last night. Liam had stayed for at least a few hours, the two of us polishing off the bottle as my eyelids grew progressively heavier, my body sinking deeper into the sheets. Our conversation trickling into some semblance of small talk after the weight of that first question melted away.
“So, be honest,” I had said, finally getting around to talk of ourhosts as our bodies tilted together in the dark. “There’s something a littleoffabout them, right?”
“Off?” he had asked, studying me from above the lip of his mug. He had gotten more comfortable, too, resting easily against the headboard. Our outstretched legs lying side by side.
“Their relationship,” I continued. “Marcia and Mitchell. I mean, it’s a little strange.”
“How so?” he had asked, giving me nothing in return.
“Just the dynamics of it,” I pressed, trying to figure out how to word it all carefully. Despite my earlier bout of honesty, I still wasn’t ready to admit to finding that diary, the illicit things I’ve been doing behind all their backs. “The way they interact. She barely talks at all, especially when he’s around.”
“Not all the time,” he argued. “Besides, things were different back when they met.”
“You mean, you think it’s just a gender role thing? Like Mitchell is the alpha and Marcia is expected to slide into place?”
“That’s not all that uncommon for people their age.” Liam shrugged, looking down at his lap. “Doesn’t mean I agree with it.”
“So, you don’t think he’s too controlling or something?”
He had sighed then, rolling his neck like he was quickly getting sick of the conversation.
“And she doesn’t seem, I don’t know,sickto you?” I continued, knowing my time was running out. “It’s never struck you as odd before?”
“Odd, sure,” he had said, draining the last of his wine before standing up, a silent cue that our evening was over. “Everything about their lifestyle is a little odd. But like I said, they’re private people. They do things their own way.”
“So, you’re not worried about her,” I pushed, still not ready to let it go. “You really don’t think there’s anything wrong.”
“No, I’m not worried,” he replied, placing his mug in thesink before walking to the door and turning around, tired eyes landing on mine in the dark. “And I really don’t think you should be, either.”
I slide out of bed now and tap at my phone lying dead on the table. I know I won’t be able to charge it in here, the lack of power rendering it useless, so I pick it up and walk to the desk before slipping it into my bag. Then I tuck in my notebook and laptop along with the diary before getting dressed, pulling my hair into a bun, and grabbing my keys from their spot on the counter.
I step out of the cabin, making sure to lock the door behind me. My surroundings still as I walk to my car.
I recognize the softsquishof mud beneath my shoes, the buzz of mosquitos in the damp air. There was a full moon last night, the marsh already rising long before the skies saturated it further, and as a result, the whole place is flooded. Salt water seeping into the yard as the river laps against waterlogged grass.
