Page 27 of A Christmas to Die For
"She's… dating Chet." Sabrina's voice is so low, almost like she's trying to soften the blow.
Mara and I let out sharp, exhausted exhales.
"Are you serious?" I'm practically hissing like a snake. "When exactly were you going to tell us that?"
"It kind of just came to me…"
"What else?" I demand, barely holding it together.
"She also pretended not to know who Albert was, which felt… off."
"Ya think?" Mara snaps. "What else?"
We're broken records at this point, worn down and suspicious, dragging the truth out of Sabrina like it's some kind of trap she's waiting for us to walk into.
"She lives here with Chet in the first cabin."
I can tell that's the last secret she's been holding onto.
"Jessica is on a leave of absence," I add, the words heavier than I expect. I'm no better. I've been hiding things too—and suddenly, I'm not sure any of us are telling the full truth.
Mara turns to me, eyes narrowing like I've just betrayed her.
"Okay, so we'realllying to each other!" I burst out. "Mara lied about accessing the files before the trip."
"And how the hell wouldyouknow that?" Sabrina glares.
"Because I went to the police station while you two were off at Trader Joe's. I asked for the files. IsawAlbert walk out with something while the room was unstaffed."
"All the secrets," Sabrina mutters, suddenly looking nervous.
"Stop." I raise a hand, pulse hammering.
Right then Mara says, "I have a secret to tell, too."
Sabrina's face drains of color. For a second, none of us say anything.
Maybe this was what she was going to tell me earlier. Maybe we've all been hiding too much, for too long.
The three of us yelling, unraveling, looking at each other like maybe we're not so innocent—it's new. And it's terrifying.
Because if we can't trust each other, then who the hellcan we trust?
Oh God, oh God, please, Mara, don't tell Phoebe.
I don't know how she's gone this long without saying anything. Sheknows. About me and Aiden.
She saw my location at his apartment, except Phoebe wasn't there with me. It was obvious enough for her to put two and two together. Everything is caving in.
It's too much.
I drop to my knees, sobbing into my hands. The shame burns, hot and ugly. I hate that we're fighting, but I hate even more that I'm just as upset about my missing jewelry. It makes me look selfish, and maybe I am.
A hand grazes my back, gentle and soothing. If it's Phoebe's, I might actually die.
"It'll be okay," she says.
And dammit. ItisPhoebe. She's too kind. Too trusting. AndI betrayed her.
