Page 46 of Romance Is Dead

“You’ve got a lot of ’splaining to do.” Mara climbed into my car, raising an eyebrow as she pulled on her seatbelt. “Starting with where we’re going and followed by why you’ve been lying to me for weeks.”

I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel, swallowing. “I know. I’m so sorry. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, let’s get going. You can tell me as we drive.”

As I pulled out of the hotel parking lot and headed to set, I did.

“Ok, so, after Trevor died, I was pretty sure his death was actually a murder, so I convinced Teddy to help me figure out who killed him. We thought it was Brent, but then he was murdered too, and then I started getting notes from the killer — ”

Mara’s mouth gaped as she took in these revelations. “You what? What kind of notes?”

“They were so weird, like little threatening poems. They’d figured out we were investigating, so then they — the killer, I mean — started coming after me.”

“God, no wonder you’ve been weird lately.”

“I wanted to tell you.” I tightened my grip on the wheel. “But I couldn’t risk the killer coming after you, too.”

Mara reached out and rubbed my shoulder. “It’s ok. But why not target Teddy? He was investigating, too.”

“Apparently they did.” My mouth set into a grim line. “I got a text from his phone a couple hours ago with a photo of him, tied up in the attic of the set.” My voice started to crack. “I think they’re going to hurt him.”

“So you are in love with him!” Mara said triumphantly. Her anger at me had already melted away, replaced by satisfaction that she’d been correct all along.

“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on right now?” The stress and anxiety that had been building all day was making my head ache, and I took one hand off the wheel to rub my temple.

“You wouldn’t be risking your life to save someone you didn’t love,” she pointed out. “Listen, do you actually want to be with this man or do you feel bad that you hurt him? Because you should probably figure that out. You don’t want to send mixed messages as you’re saving someone’s life.”

I wanted to say that she was wrong, and that I wasn’t hopelessly in love with Teddy.

That the thought of never speaking to him again wasn’t tearing up my entire existence.

I wanted to say that I felt bad that I’d been a jerk about the photo, and that’s the only reason why I was rushing to be at his side.

And that part was true. I did feel bad for being a jerk.

Really, really bad. But I didn’t feel bad just because I knew I’d made a mistake, or several mistakes.

I felt bad because the thought of being without him, and a thousand of the little things that make him him, made something inside me feel like it was dying.

I loved the way he never said a bad word about anybody.

I loved the way that lock of hair always flopped down over his forehead.

I loved the way he thought “Bohemian Rhapsody” was a deep cut.

I loved the way he made me feel like I was enough — for him, for the world. For myself.

Somehow, at a time when I’d sworn off love in any shape or form, I’d found the person I couldn’t imagine being without.

The person I would change my plans for. The person I’d rather die than hurt.

And I was pretty sure that despite all my resolutions to not, under any circumstance, fall for anyone on set, I was falling very much in love with Teddy.

It was terrifying. I still wanted to push it away — to stick to my rules. No more horror movies. No more dating actors. And a voice that whispered, He lied to you and used you .

But no matter how many rules you make, you can’t guarantee that a relationship will work out, or that someone won’t break your heart. You can’t guarantee that your career won’t implode, or that you won’t fail.

All you can do is decide whether it’s worth the risk.

I still didn’t know how TMZ had gotten the photos of Teddy and me. I was still skeptical that it could be anyone but him. But maybe I needed to hear him out. Maybe I needed to trust.

I sighed, resigned to my fate. “I want to be with him. For real.”

Mara squealed in delight. And despite the fact that I could be walking to my death in less than an hour’s time, something like hope bubbled in my stomach. It felt good not just to finally open my heart to someone, but also to be honest with myself about it.

What didn’t feel good was knowing that even if I thought I’d been doing the right thing, Mara had still suffered in the process.

“I’m really sorry I wasn’t there for you. When the Austin stuff happened.”

“You’ve clearly been busy. Getting hunted by a literal killer.” She played it off with a little puff of a laugh, but judging by the way her body seemed to deflate, it was clear she was still hurt.

“I’ll make it up to you?”

Mara smiled wryly. “You definitely will. You’re officially on dinner duty for the foreseeable future when we get back to LA.”

“So I’m not kicked out?”

“Never!”

I exhaled, the relief at being back in her good graces making me momentarily forget what we were on our way to do. But then the road grew narrow, tree branches brushing against the side of the vehicle, and my chest grew tight. We were almost there.

I steered us straight to the house, turning off the headlights as we approached, creeping along to be as quiet as possible. I parked out of sight, not wanting to risk anyone seeing Mara in the car.

“Are you sure I can’t come with you?” she whispered as I turned off the ignition.

After hearing why, exactly, we were going to set late at night, Mara had immediately wanted to call the police.

Which, I had to admit, was a logical course of action.

But I believed the threat in the text. There was no way I was calling the cops or letting Mara come inside the house with me.

I needed to make sure Teddy was ok, to see him for myself.

Instead, Mara would give me a few minutes to get into the house and hopefully convince the killer that I hadn’t gone to the authorities.

Only then would Mara call the police. Or, if she heard screaming, sooner.

I really hoped it wouldn’t be sooner.

“It seems like a bad idea to go in alone.” Mara chewed her lower lip. “We’re dealing with a serial killer here.”

“Technically you’re only a serial killer if you’ve killed three or more people in unrelated situations.”

“No, it’s definitely two.”

“Well, it’s doesn’t matter!” I hissed, unbuckling my seatbelt.

“They’ve already proved they’re capable of murder — they’ll definitely kill him if I don’t do what they say.

” My voice wavered, threatening to break.

Screw feeling bad about blaming him for the photo leak; this level of guilt was way worse. I opened the door, ready to get out.

“Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“Go kick some ass. I’ll call in your backup.”

It was a cold and clear night, the full moon shining down on me as I hopped out of the car and onto the grass. Walking through the trees toward the house, my nerves suddenly dissipated.

This was happening. There was no turning back now.

I stared up at the house, hoping for a clue as to where the killer would be waiting for me.

But there was nothing — no lights, no sound, no indication of what I was supposed to do next.

Taking a deep breath, I climbed the porch steps and wrenched open the door.

The hinges groaned in protest, and I winced.

The house was dead silent — they had to have heard.

They had to know I was here. I waited on the threshold, convinced that at any moment I would be ambushed, hacked into pieces by some terrible, unseen weapon.

But nothing came. There was no hint of movement, no hint that anyone was here at all. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was alone. But I did know better, and I needed to get moving if I was going to find Teddy before they hurt him.

I was creeping through the dining room when a loud bang echoed from somewhere above. I tipped my head up, straining my ears. I couldn’t tell where exactly it had come from, but it was my only clue.

Frantically, I looked around for something to arm myself with.

The bat Teddy had used in the scene we rehearsed at the baseball field — my heart squeezed at the memory of our night there — was lying nearby.

I grabbed it and methodically made my way through the house, going through the second floor and then the third, rounding every corner with the bat held high, ready to meet the killer at any moment.

But room after room was empty, and soon I was staring at the door leading up to the attic, the only place left that I hadn’t checked.

Gulping, I yanked open the door. As soon as I did, I noticed a flickering in the room above. Light. Candles. And then, a hushed noise — like someone telling another person to be quiet. Taking a deep breath, I climbed the stairs.

The first thing I saw when I reached the top was Teddy. He was sitting in an old ratty chair, his hands tied behind the back. His eyes went wide, but he didn’t yell out.

The second thing I saw was the person we’d been looking for all along. The person who had been in the photo my dad had shown me.

It was Chloe.