Page 51

Phoebe

Then

“Stop.”

I spin around, taking in the source of the command that froze the blood in my veins.

“What are you doing?” I ask, irritated to hear the tremble in my voice.

“What does it look like? Looking for you.”

He approaches me from the side—not the front as he would have done if he’d been heading directly from the Inn. How long has he been out here searching for me?

“Josh.” His name is a whisper on my lips.

I didn’t recognize him at first, not in the first few weeks of the program.

Not until that night in the Whitsundays.

***

The relief I felt when I saw him—after stumbling around Lindholmen Island drunk and on the verge of a panic attack—was unparalleled. I collapsed into his arms, allowed him to lead me blindly back through the dense trees to the row of rooms our group shared.

I never once questioned how he found me, what he’d been doing wandering in the wooded area behind our hostel like I had been.

I should have.

And then, we were back in my room. I started it, I’ll admit that much.

He tried to leave me in the doorway, to drop me off for the night, but the alcohol, the sadness, the regret, all of it mixed into a lethal combination, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than a connection, for someone to want me back.

I threw myself at him, my lips landing messily on his.

“You’re drunk,” he mumbled into my neck halfheartedly, but I ignored him, leading him to the bed instead.

He was gone when I woke up the next morning.

I figured that would be it, a one and done, but to my surprise—and not total disgust—it happened again the next night, and the next.

There was something about the fact that he’d seen me at my lowest point and still accepted me that kept me coming back.

We kept it secret. I didn’t care about the others finding out.

In fact, I would have loved to see the jealousy on Kyan’s face when he learned I’d been sleeping with his “best mate,” but Josh had some excuse about not wanting the others gossiping about his private business.

I didn’t care, to tell the truth. Until the last night in the Whitsundays.

I was drunk, as usual, and Adrien had made some comment that set me off earlier in the night.

I’d been talking to one of the Swedish backpackers staying at our hostel, and when he walked away, I overheard her whisper something intentionally loud enough for me to hear about how I could never seal the deal .

“I’m going to tell her about us,” I said, as Josh and I lay in his bed, Kyan sleeping over in Adrien’s room as usual. “That will shut her up.”

“No.”

Josh’s response was so firm that I shrank back. Keeping our relationship—or whatever it was—on the down-low was one thing, but why was Josh so intent on keeping it a secret from everyone?

“Okay, what is this? Are you embarrassed to be hooking up with me or what?”

“You don’t even know who I am, do you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

He laughed, a hard sound that seemed to echo against the walls. “I was on your brother’s football team when I was freshman. He was a senior. I was in your grade, and you still don’t even recognize me?”

The upbeat, joking expression he always wore was replaced by a mask—cold eyes and a thin line for his lips—and I felt something crack inside me, as if my chest was cleaving in two.

I thought of those high school years, how I walked through a perpetual fog, barely noticing anyone or anything around me, always counting the minutes until my brother made his next move.

“You said you’re from California,” I said, my voice a barely audible squeak.

“No, I said I go to school in California. I grew up in Atlanta.”

I felt a coldness enter my veins. How could I have been so blind? How could I have not recognized him?

“Your brother, Jimmy, was my idol,” Josh continued.

“I was an only child; my dad was barely in the picture. More concerned with fucking his secretary and any other woman who smiled at him than staying home and raising his own son. But Jimmy, he was like the older brother I never had. He’d stay late after practice, helping me with drills, giving me advice about girls and college and… I mean, I loved him.”

I sat there, still shocked that this was happening. His words didn’t seem to fit together right in my head.

“He was like my role model. And then, well, you know what happened to him.”

I felt my hand back on the wheel of the car all those years ago. The headlights twisting as we swerved, the crash of glass as it fractured around us.

“I’d driven with Jimmy before, to parties and things.

He was a good driver, knew how to handle himself even after a few beers.

It didn’t take long for people to start talking, for the rumors to start about his weird fat sister who was in the car with him that night. How she had something to do with it.”

I flinched. Weird. Fat. The labels I’d spent years trying to drop.

I’d come all this way to leave that girl behind. To try to start over, to make the others believe I was someone different.

But she followed me.

“I barely recognized you at orientation, I’ll give you that,” he continued.

“You did a good job trying to become someone different. The hair, the diet.” His eyes skirted over my naked body appreciatively.

“But the name gave it away. Barton. Jimmy’s last name wasn’t that common, and when I looked closely, I could see it. The family resemblance, in the chin.”

I felt my hand rise instinctively to cover my mouth, to hide anything that could ever connect me to Jimmy.

“This whole trip, I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask you what really happened that night, but there’s no real way to gently broach the question of whether someone killed their brother.

But now I know. I knew it as soon as I mentioned his name.

I could tell from your reaction—that deer-in-headlights look. You murdered him. Your own brother.”

My intoxication from earlier dissipated, leaving me stone cold sober.

“You didn’t know him—really know him.” I caught myself. “He wasn’t the person you thought he was. He was a monster, he—”

But Josh held up a hand, clearly unimpressed with my explanation.

“No, you are the monster. God, I can’t believe I fucked you.

I can’t even tell you how much shit I would get from my high school friends if they knew I hooked up with Phoebe Barton .

” He laughed again, a cruel sound, and I felt myself wither.

It was just like looking at my brother. The same derision, the same twisted smiles.

“You better not tell anyone about this,” Josh warned. It was the same thing Jimmy used to say back then. And I had no choice but to nod, to take it.

“Good, because if you do, I’ll tell everyone what you did. That you killed Jimmy. I’ll tell them what you are. Oh, and if it’s not clear enough, this…thing we have going on here. It’s over.”

I stayed frozen to the bed. And just as Josh was about to walk out the door, to leave me to gather up my life after this bomb he’d dropped, he turned back to me, the lights from outside casting a glow across his face that made his features look twisted.

“If either of you deserved to die, it was you.”

***

That parting shot stayed with me. I didn’t sleep that night, and the next morning, we were on the road to Cullamonjoo, where I drank too much.

Where I lashed out, dared Tomas to do something so stupid, so reckless.

To prove what? That I was a new version of myself.

That I wasn’t that poor lonely girl I was in high school?

And look how that turned out.

Since that final night together, Josh has barely looked at me. Until now.

He stands in front of me, his face twisted in disgust. The Outback sprawls behind him, with no one and nothing around us.

“What the hell is this?” he says, shoving a looseleaf sheet of paper with handwriting scribbled on it in my face.

“Looks like a note.”

“Don’t be smart. We both know you aren’t.”

I swallow. I know exactly what it is, of course. The note I slid under the door to his room at the Inn before I left.

I’m pregnant. And I’m keeping it.

I shouldn’t have done it. There was no reason for him to know. But I couldn’t resist one final parting shot.

“Is this true or are you fucking with me?”

I don’t owe him an answer, certainly not one that he can put together himself. So, I sidestep him, choosing instead to continue my walk back to the Inn.

That was the wrong decision. Without warning, his arm grasps my shoulder, twisting me backward so forcefully that a small “oh” escapes my mouth.

“I asked you a fucking question.”

I stare at him, shocked. And then I feel his knuckles connect with my cheek.

It’s the first time I’ve ever been punched—let alone by a guy nearly double my size.

It’s nothing like the movies, when the victim immediately jumps up and recovers.

My vision flickers at the seams as I drop to my knees.

My teeth feel loose, and pain radiates through every inch of my body.

I’m too shocked for tears, but I feel blood dripping steadily from my lip as though to make up for it.

I need to get away. The thought cuts through my pain. This man is insane.

I can feel him looming above me before I hear him.

“I can’t believe you would ever think I would have a baby with you of all people. You piece of trash. You murderer .”

There it is again. Not only did this person idolize my brother, but he has become him. The thought sends bile rising in my throat.

I force myself up to a standing position. “Listen,” I say quietly, my voice shaking.

He leans in, expecting me to finish the statement. And as he does, I press my hands against his chest and shove with all my might.

It shouldn’t work. I weigh nothing compared to him, but the movement must catch him off guard, and he steps backwards onto a piece of uneven ground, sending him lilting to the side.

I take my chance and run, throwing my backpack off my arm once I realize it’s only slowing me down.

I hear him swear behind me, a rustle against the ground as he gets up. I don’t bother turning to look.

I run faster than I ever have in my life.

Ten seconds pass, then fifteen, but he’s still not on me. I can’t hear anything over the quick rush of my breathing, but I still refuse to turn around. I just need to get to the Inn. Once I’m there, I can get help. I can figure everything out.

But despite my speed, the distance I’ve traveled, I still don’t see the outline of the familiar building, its dark walls rising out of the earth.

Am I going in the right direction? Without the compass, there’s no way to tell.

And then I see an object ahead. Not big enough to be the Inn, but I recognize it regardless.

It’s the copse of bushland lining the hike up the huge mountain, Big Beulah.

This is the trailhead, the Inn just on the other side of the hill.

I’m so close.

And then I hear movement behind me. The sound of footsteps, of harsh breathing.

Before I can think otherwise, I dart onto the trail and, just as quickly, off it into the brush.

Scraggly branches prick my skin, dragging against my face, but I refuse to cry out.

Instead, I stop and press my body against the ground, trying to ignore the sharp twigs cutting into my flesh.

I don’t move. I stay as silent as possible until I hear his footsteps.

And I know, more than I’ve ever known anything before, that it’s over. I’m trapped here. Despite my efforts to hide, my body is easily visible from the trail. He’s going to find me.

I could stay silent, hope against all hope that he’ll give up, turn around, and go back to living his life. But my brother would never let this go. And I know Josh won’t either. He’s going to kill me.

My heart breaks. Thoughts of what my life could be—of what the life inside of me could be—cut against me at all sides, digging into my consciousness.

I squeeze my eyes shut. This isn’t how I want to spend what could be the last few minutes of my life.

I want to use it to help someone for once. To ensure that no one else is hurt by the evil that is Josh McBride.

So, I force the emotions aside and pull my phone out from where I’ve kept it in my front pocket. I fumble with shaking fingers to bring up the camera app, stabbing at the keypad to turn it to video mode, and turn it to face me just as I hear the footsteps slow.

“I’m leaving this video for you, Claire,” I whisper. I know this isn’t the message she expected to receive from me, but she needs to know. I try to make the message as succinct as I can, finishing it with a clear warning.

I manage to save it and attach it as a text message, my fingers fumbling to type Claire’s name in the top of the message box.

I’m just about to hit send when I sense someone behind me.

I turn to look at him. I’m about to open my mouth to tell him exactly what I think of him, or maybe to challenge him.

But before the words can come out, I feel something rush through the air towards my head.

And then it makes contact.