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“Were Darren and Delaney ever involved?”

Bryce fumbles her phone, and it falls between her booted feet. “What?”

I watch her lean down to pick up the phone with my brow raised. Once she sets it in the cup holder, she stares across the console at me.

“That’s not a simple question, and the answer is even more complicated.”

“I don’t need to know everything, and I don’t expect you to tell me all the details. I’d just like to know if I should avoid mentioning him or you, for that matter. She looked uncomfortable around you, Bryce. Why?”

She stares out the windshield and pushes out a harsh breath. “They were together officially for four years, but it was actually much longer than that, stemming back to when they were just kids. She’s uncomfortable around me because I’m guilty by association.”

“Four years? Was this before Abbie?”

“Way before her. They were fourteen when Darren told the entire population of Cherry Peak that she was his future wife.”

I blink in surprise, sinking into my seat. “Yet he married someone else.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Sunshine. Before she left for school, they decided to take a pause. The plan they made was for both of them to focus on getting their degrees, and then they would get back together and live a perfect, white-picket-fence life. It was a stupid fucking plan, and we all told him that,” she explains, sounding stressed.

I reach across the car and smooth my hand down her thigh. “Okay, I get it. Don’t tell me anything else. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t wind up with my foot in my mouth.”

Dropping her head, she turns it to the side and focuses on me. “Darren would tell you the whole story if you asked.”

“It’s not my place. Maybe Delaney will tell me once I’ve proven myself to be a good friend. Until then, I’m good with what you’ve shared.”

“Thank you.”

I shrug a shoulder and pat her leg before reaching for her phone and snaking it. She doesn’t try to take it back, just watches as I try to open it only to find it locked.

“1031,” she says.

“Halloween?” It’s the same code as her front door.

She starts the car while I unlock her phone and open the music app. “I like Halloween.”

“Mm, because you’re a horror buff?”

“Paranormal buff. Not that fake horror shit.”

“So, you don’t like to watch scary movies? Not even likeFriday the 13thorHalloween?”

She backs the car out of the stall with an ease that I wish I could steal sometime and then pulls out of the parking lot.

“Those are fine. My problem is with the fake paranormal horror movies. I like the real stories, not the ones that are snapped into thin air with spirits in terrible makeup and fake nails scratching walls. It’s all very cliché.”

“So, you like ghost-chaser documentaries more than you do the paranormal films.”

“Yes. They claim to be based off of true stories, but it’s all been so glamorized by the time it hits the theatres.”

I nod along with her and find a song I recognize amongst the unfamiliar titles. It blasts through the speakers, and Bryce is quick to turn the volume down.

“You’ll go deaf early if you listen to music that loud, you know?” I poke at her.

She reaches over to turn it up one notch. “You sound like my grandmother.”

I jump at the new bit of information. “Are you close with her? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about your extended family. Is it big?”

She chuckles. “You’re curious today.”