Page 33 of Where Daisies Breathe (Star Meadows #2)

AVA

A bout fifteen minutes later, Ellis and I are walking into the hotel he’s staying at. As he unlocks his room door, I check my phone to see if Clara has messaged me at all.

Clara: Just checking in to see how things are going.

Ellis opens the door and motions for me to go in first. I step over the threshold, sending Clara a reply as I do.

Me: I’m fine. Some crazy stuff went down. I’ll tell you more about it when I get back. How are you doing? And how’s Bailey doing?

Clara: I’m fine. Bailey’s doing okay. He acts like he wants to go for a walk, but I’m a bit worried about going outside by myself, so maybe we can do that when you get back.

Me: Yeah, wait for me please. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving.

I pocket my phone as Ellis closes and locks the door. Then he rotates around, slumps against the door, and scrubs his hand across his face.

“Fuck.” He grumbles a series of curses then pinches the brim of his nose. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” I sink onto the bed and massage my temples with my fingertips.

“I know, but…” He blows out a sigh. “I can’t break down right now.”

“Why? I’ve broken down like ten times. Maybe it’s your turn,” I suggest, resting back on my hands.

There’s a chance I might be in shock. Either that or I’ve become numb to the awful things my family has done.

He studies me for a moment before wandering over to the bar area, where he collects a bottle of whiskey and pours himself a drink. Then he downs it in one gulp, sets the glass down, and faces me.

“Okay, break down is over,” he tells me through an uneven exhale.

Then he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, collects his laptop from off the desk, and sits down on the bed.

“I’m going to do some digging into that corporation that owns the cabin in the woods.

I’m also going to do some research into your family.

You mentioned you thought you remembered the police showing up in the town you lived in before Star Meadows. ”

I nod, pushing up to grab the diary off the dresser. “I don’t remember all the details, but I can remember red and blue flashing lights just outside of my old home. My mom was panicking, and I have no clue where my father was.”

He mulls this over as he clicks a few keys on his laptop. “You don’t remember him getting arrested or having charges against him—anything like that?”

I shake my head. “No, but like I’ve said, my memory is a fickle place.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“I know.” I almost believe my words.

“Good.” He returns his attention to the laptop. “Let me know if you find anything in there.”

I nod as I sink onto the sofa and open up the diary.

The page I end up on is one where pages have been ripped out. I trace my fingers along the binding where the remnants of the pages remain.

What did Clover write, but then decide to hide?

It seems so out of character for her. She wasn’t the kind of person to erase or take back things.

She owned what she did—good and bad. It makes me wonder if the pages still exist but have been hidden somewhere else.

Could it be in her wallet that was never found?

Could it be buried under these daisies Camilla spoke of?

I fan through the pages until I find where I left off in the diary.

I’m getting tired. Tired of writing my thoughts.

Tired of living in my own head. Tired of all the pain.

Part of it is my fault for making the choices that I have.

I wanted the truth so desperately that I made decisions from which I’m unsure I can recover.

I know I did this for a reason—a really fucking good one—but who will I be when I come out of this?

Will I be able to erase all the bad things I’ve done?

And what about the stuff done to me? All those hands that touched me when I didn’t want them to.

The poison I allowed in my veins that my body now craves.

And him, the guy I let break me, mold me, whore me out to get what he wants.

And I did it to get what I wanted. Or at least to try to get what I wanted.

Sometimes my feelings for him get muddled. It’s so fucked up that I question if perhaps through all of this pretending, if a small part of me cares about him. I even picked daisies for him the other day, and he put them in a vase that he keeps perched on his bedroom dresser.

Maybe he’s not so bad.

Out of the two of them, he’s definitely the lesser of two evils. But he’s still horrible. However, I’m unsure what he’d do if he found out about the other.

I sit back, processing what I just read. Was Clover seeing two guys? Could that have been what happened? Could one of them have found out about the other and killed her?

Or did they find out what she was really doing? She did say that she was starting to get confused about her feelings for one of them. Could she have let something slip out? She did give him daisies, which means he meant something to her.

My gaze travels to the daisies on the dresser. Could this guy have left these outside of the hotel room door? Did he know what they meant to Clover and me? Why does the scene she described with the daisies in a vase on his dresser feel so familiar…

I’m in his room for the first time. It’s full of trophies and awards, nothing too out of the ordinary, except…

He has a vase filled with dried-up daisies.

My heart tugs at the sight of it.

“Who gave you these?” I ask as I stare at the wilting petals.

“Those flowers?” he asks, and I nod. “I don’t know. Some girl … I can’t remember her name. Why?”

“I don’t know …” Tears well in my eyes, but I suck them back. “They’re just … Daisies are pretty flowers.”

“They’re lame, if you ask me. They’re plain as hell.” He pauses. “And those are dead—I should’ve thrown them out a long time ago.”

“Oh my god.” The connection clicks so sharply that I drop the diary.

“What is it?” Ellis asks, his gaze snapping to mine.

I force down the tremulous breath begging to escape my lips. “Clover was with two different men while she was looking into Zoey’s death, and I know who one of them was.” Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl. “It was Jason. Clover was with Jason.”