Page 71 of The Perfect Hosts

“Let’s do this, Madeline,” Lucy says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out Madeline’s new cell phone. “First ofall, is Mellie gone? I need to know how quiet we need to be. Madeline, is she gone?”

Her sister nods. “Do you want to send him the text, or should I?” Lucy asks. When Madeline doesn’t say anything, Lucy presses the phone toward her. “It’s really best if you do it. Type this.” With shaking hands, Madeline takes the phone. “It’s over, you fucking asshole. Do not come home tonight, or I’ll call the police,” Lucy dictates. “Now hit Send.” Madeline doesn’t. She just stands there, trembling. Lucy sighs, pulls the phone roughly from Madeline’s hands, sends the message, and tosses it onto the bed. She crosses the room and steps into the closet. “Wow, Mads, you have a lot of shoes.”

“Lucy, please,” Madeline says, her voice pleading.

Lucy can hear the fear in her voice. She knows she should feel sorry for her sister, but the only thing she feels right now is disgust. How is it that Lucy is flat broke, divorced, and practically disinherited by her own father? Life isn’t fair. She plucks one of Madeline’s cowboy hats from a shelf and places it on her head. It’s a ridiculous-looking thing—pink and embellished with crystals arranged in the shape of stars. She turns her attention to Wes’s side of the closet and his array of leather belts. She lifts one from its hook. “Nice,” Lucy says. “Is this mother-of-pearl?” she asks, rubbing the belt buckle. “Oooh, and amethyst?” She lifts it to her nose and breathes deeply. The scent of leather reminds Lucy of her father, and a sudden bullet of regret pierces her, but she tries to pocket it. There will be time for regret later—but only if she doesn’t get away with this.

Lucy steps from the closet, the belt dangling from her gloved hand, passes Madeline, and moves to the window. It’s fully dark out now, the mountains a mere smudge.

“Now we wait,” Lucy says. Minutes pass, and Lucy occasionally looks over her shoulder to see if Madeline decides to try to make a run for it. She doesn’t. Finally, two headlightspuncture the night, and Lucy watches as a truck pulls onto the property. Wes is back. She closes the curtains, the only light in the room coming from the closet, then turns to face her sister.

“Lucy,” Madeline says fearfully, eyeing the swaying belt in Lucy’s hand and backing toward the door.

“You knew this was coming, Madeline,” Lucy says, surprised at the calm in her voice. She watches as her stepsister looks wildly around the room. For what? An escape route? It’s too late for that now.

Madeline shakes her head, her pretty eyes filling with tears.

“Now, hush,” Lucy soothes, drawing the belt tight with her gloved hands and moving toward her sister. “It will all be over soon.”

Chapter 35

Mellie

I pull up the Uber app and fight back tears as I walk toward the road. There’s no way I’m going to stand in the driveway and wait for my ride to show up. I still don’t know why I lied to Madeline about my mom being dead when we were in the ambulance. I was so scared, and there was Wes’s wife holding my hand and being so nice to me—it just kind of came out of my mouth.

I’m even more surprised that she found out I wasn’t really pregnant. I guess having that kind of money means you can get anything you want, even private medical information. That lie was planned. Wes had been freezing me out, and I thought that by getting close to his wife, it would force him to make a decision—Madeline or me. Desperate, I know, but I really think he loves me. I wish I had Wes’s phone number. I know he’d come for me.

Moonlight guides my way, but the night is cold, and Madeline’s T-shirt does little to keep me warm. By the time I reach the road I’m shivering, and the Uber driver is still fifteen minutes away. I have to figure out what I’m going to do next. I’ll have to find another job since the catering business really is on hold. That part wasn’t a lie. I’m running out of money, fast.

The minutes feel like hours, and finally headlights appearin the distance. I lift my hand and wave, so he doesn’t pass me by. As he gets closer, I realize it’s not the Uber driver’s car but a pickup truck. Wes’s truck. He swings into the lane and slams on the brakes, and I stumble backward to avoid getting hit.

Through the windshield, Wes’s face is a mask of anger, and my initial happiness at seeing him turns to dread. I cautiously approach the driver’s-side window as it lowers.

“Mellie,” Wes says. “You’re still here. I told you, enough is enough.”

I begin to cry, even though I know that Wes has no patience for tears. I can’t tell him about the way I talked to Madeline, the things I said. “Can you give me a ride?” I ask. “Please?”

“You know I can’t,” he says impatiently. “Call an Uber.”

“But I need you.” I’m crying openly now, snot running down my nose. “Wes, please.” He shakes his head. I see the indifference in his eyes. He’s ready to leave me behind. Panic floods my bloodstream, and I wrench open his door. “Please,” I say. “Don’t do this. Please...” I grab his sleeve.

“Whoa,” he says, pulling back. “Mellie, I never promised you anything. You know that. Now, come on, be a grown-up about this.”

“I’ll tell,” I say, sounding like anything but a grown-up. “I’ll tell everyone about us. How will that look? I’ll tell everyone you had sex with me in your bunkhouse while your poor pregnant wife was crying about her best friend dying.”

“Who would believe you?” he laughs meanly. “You’re nothing. A nobody.”

“I lied for you!” I cry. “I told the police that Johanna’s husband went into the barn before it blew up. I protected you.”

“What do you want, Mellie?” Wes asks. “You want me to leave my pregnant wife? Did you think that was really ever going to happen? That I was going to marry you and move you onto the ranch? Come on, you’re delusional.”

“Don’t say that,” I sob. “I love you.” I grab onto his shirt again, only wanting him to hold me, to tell me he loves me too. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Jesus, Mellie,” Wes says, roughly pushing me away so that I tumble backward and land on my ass. My breath is knocked from my chest, and pain radiates through my body. “Grow up and stay the fuck away from my family,” he says, pulling the truck door shut with a slam.

Before I can get to my feet he’s already driving down the lane to his home, to his wife. I scrape away the pebbles embedded in my palms and brush away the dirt from my jeans. Madeline’s jeans. In spite of the cool evening, my face burns with shame as another set of headlights appear in the distance. Finally, my ride is here. I climb inside, and as he drives off, all I can think is, This isn’t over yet. I will not be treated this way. Wes and Madeline are going to pay—one way or another.

Chapter 36