Page 27 of Where Daisies Breathe (Star Meadows #2)

AVA

M y skin burns where the cuffs were put on me, even after they’re removed.

I almost had a meltdown when the officer slapped them on me, but I managed to breathe through it, although my inhales and exhales were erratic.

The officer looked at me like I was spun out and losing my mind.

I loathed it—getting stared at like that, because it’s how I’ve been looked at for most of my life.

It made me question everything, and that feeling of spiraling returned.

I just about broke, but I didn’t, and that’s what I’m latching onto as I sit behind these bars.

The air is heavy with the foul stench of sweat and booze, even though no one else is in the cell with me.

I’m unsure where Camilla is, or if she was even brought to jail.

They’d arrested her, but after what she’d told me, I wonder if she was released.

This was all pretty much a setup, and now I’m going to have drug possession charges against me, even though I wasn’t in possession of any.

I’m waiting to call someone to bail me out, but I’m unsure who to call.

Clara? Ellis? Where did Ellis even end up?

And what about everything Camilla told me?

Was it all a facade? The fact that I’m behind bars right now should have me convinced every word she uttered was a razor of lies.

However, I saw her face, and in her eyes, I saw fear, regret, and anger.

It was real. And she said it was. She said she found a way to tell me the truth. But why? Why would she do that?

I’m not certain. What I am certain of, though, is that if she was telling the truth, then that means my father dated her, and that he’s part of what happened in the woods.

God, what if that’s true…

My mind wanders back to the day I met Ellis in the café. The waitress working there was a girl I knew from high school. Her name is Tess, and she’d acted as if my father’s death was a good thing.

“Well, I wonder if she’ll be okay with people coming and saying their two cents about what a piece of shit your father was.”

She said those words to me after I’d told her about how my mother was having a memorial for my father. If I get out of here, perhaps I can talk to her about that. Maybe that’ll help me gather more evidence to prove what my father was involved in.

Camilla had used the word " hunted ."

Is this group hunting people?

Was my father hunting people?

I run through the branches and trees as they shout my name.

Not they. Trystan. My cousin.

“Ava!” he shouts. “You can’t get away from this. It’s part of you!”

I keep running all the way to my house where my parents are waiting. Neither one of them looked surprised by my frantic state, as if they already expected me to arrive this way.

My stomach churns as I sit on the cold bench with my back against the wall.

I try to latch on to every detail of the memories that are filling my mind.

These aren’t forgotten memories, though.

I’ve always been able to recall how calm my father was that day as he sat at the table with his phone in his hand, dazing off in deep thought.

I had, and have always, assumed that it was my father being his cold, uncaring self.

What if it was deeper than that? Like he knew I was coming because Trystan told him?

Then what? He headed out to the woods, and that’s where he met Camilla?

It could be possible. For days after I escaped the woods, my mother kept me locked in the basement, so I don’t know if my father was home or not.

I lower my head into my hands and massage my temples. I need to get out of here. I need to figure this out before something else awful happens.

Sucking in a breath via my nose, I push to my feet and approach the bars. The Star Meadows police station is small enough that the soft chatter of voices flows from the desk stations and back to the cell. Not that anyone is visible. But I know officers are around. I think I’m being ignored.

“Hello?” I call out. “I need to call someone.”

Nothing but silence.

I try calling out a few more times before I begin pacing the small length of the cell. The floor is concrete…

Hard against my cheek.

And cold…

The air smells like rot…

Like death…

A tear falls from my eyes…

“Ava.”

My attention snaps to the bars.

The branches snap as someone chases after me.

My mother is standing on the other side of the cell. And she’s not alone. Jason is with her.

My mother is wearing a blue dress and jacket, and her heels have mud on the toes. Strands of her hair appear to be damp, like she was rained on. Jason has on a button-down shirt and slacks that have spots of rain on the fabric.

The storm is still going.

And now it’s here.

“What the hell have you done?” my mother hisses at me as her fingers wrap around the bars.

Jason keeps his lips fused, but his gaze bores into me. I refuse to make eye contact with him, though. I wish I could say it was because I give zero fucks about him, but the reality is that the woman he strangled, hit, belittled is still curled up in a ball inside my mind.

I stare at my mother, trying to see past the mask she has to be wearing.

My lack of an immediate response frustrates her to the point where she scoffs, “I’d hoped over the years as you grew up, you’d become more mature and responsible, but you’re still as big of a disappointment as ever.”

I’ve heard of the term breaking point before, but I’ve never felt myself arrive at one until now.

“That’s funny,” I say dryly. “I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

She lets out this dramatic gasp as if I’ve declared a scandalizing secret, but she promptly recovers, her eyes narrowing. “What is wrong with you? It’s that cop friend of yours, isn’t it? You knew him when you were a drug addict, and I’m sure this is why you’re in this mess.”

I feel this internal cracking inside my body, as if my bones have finally given out from the pressure I’ve felt for years. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

She slants back as if I’ve struck her. “How dare you blame me? All I’ve ever done is try to make you do the right things. But you’ve made so many poor choices in your life, Ava. And look where it’s got you.” She gestures at the bars.

I step toward her. “You’re right. I have made some poor choices.

The biggest one was believing that because you’re my mother, I should listen and obey you.

But that’s the second biggest mistake I’ve ever made.

The first is going into the woods that day.

Or maybe it’s when I let you handle things.

” I wrap my fingers around the bars. “Tell me, mother, how much do you know about that day? Because I’m starting to think you know a hell of a lot more than you’ve let on.

” Then, summoning every ounce of strength I have, I slide my gaze to Jason.

I say nothing—I’m not sure I’m ready for that. But I hold his gaze, refusing to look away even when every part of me fiercely begs to do so.

The corner of his lip tilts upward into a half-smile.

It’s not friendly. It’s condescending and meant to make me feel small.

I’ve seen this smile thousands of times.

“Come on, let her sit behind bars for a while. Maybe being trapped will change her ungrateful attitude,” he says to my mother without removing his gaze from me.

Perhaps I imagined the way he emphasized ' trapped .'

But I’ve spent many years questioning my reality. Perhaps my imagination is the truth begging to come out.

About an hour later, Ellis bails me out of jail. We barely speak as we leave the station, and Ellis’s posture is rigid, his hands are clenched at his sides, and his jawline is a ball of tension.

“I parked out back,” he tells me in a cold tone.

I follow him around back, and when we arrive at his SUV, he opens the passenger door for me. Once I hop in, he closes it, rounds the front, and climbs into the driver’s side.

As soon as the door clicks, he yanks his fingers roughly through his hair. “Aves, I’m trying to understand what you were thinking, but I can’t get there. Can you please explain it to me?” His gaze collides with mine.

“I didn’t do the drugs,” I assure him as I rotate in the seat to face him. “Camilla set me up.”

“I’m not talking about with the drugs. I’m talking about you dropping your bag and phone and taking off with someone who could’ve been a murderer.”

“It was Camilla. She’s not the murderer… Although…” She did tell me some very questionable things, such as that she chose to be part of the hunters.

But is it really her fault if she was choosing to survive and had no other option? Survival is a potent emotion that can make a person do things that they wouldn’t normally do. Dark things. Brutal things.

“Although what?” he hedges, but then swiftly shakes his head.

“No, let’s finish the first conversation, then we can go back to that.

” He looks me straight in the eye. “I know you want to figure this out, and I get it—I do. But risking your life to get to the truth isn’t worth it.

I need to know that you’re on that page with me or else I can’t have you involved in this anymore.

” A defeated sigh leaves his lips before he adds, “Maybe I shouldn’t have ever pulled you into this. It’s too dangerous.”

I place a hand on his arm. His skin is cold, likely due to the chilled temperature outside, caused by the rainstorm. Star Meadows can get chilly, even on the brink of summer.

“I need to help with this. I know it’s dangerous—I get that.

And I can see why it was a mistake to get into the car.

I won’t do anything irrational like that again.

I just wanted answers, and I don’t know…

my brain became centered on just that. Trust me, now that I’ve got drug charges against me, I realize how badly I messed up.

” I slump back in the seat and blow out a breath. “Big time.”