Page 34 of Where Daisies Breathe (Star Meadows #2)

CLOVER

J ason is always a moody guy, but tonight he’s at his worst. Something is bothering him. I can feel it from the moment he pulls up at my house to pick me up.

He honks the horn an annoying number of times to the point where I rush so quickly out the door that I trip and fall down the stairs.

The gravel at the bottom scrapes my knees and palms. Jason doesn’t get out of the car to help me.

He honks the damn horn again. By the time I slide into the passenger seat, I’m fuming.

“You could’ve helped me,” I snap as I slam the door. I use the flashlight on my phone to examine the wounds on my knees. “Shit, I need band aids.”

“There’s a towel in the backseat,” he says as he shoves the shifter into drive and peels out of the gravel driveway.

I shake my head, my anger simmering. “You know what? I think I’ll stay home tonight.”

“No, you’re not. We need to make an appearance at this party, so clean your fucking hands and knees up and shut your mouth.” He grips the steering wheel as he drives down the road consumed by night.

Every one of my instincts begs to snap at him, to tell him to fuck off, to be the old Clover. But she died the day Zoey did, and the reminder of that, and what I’m trying to do, causes me to keep my lips cinched.

By the time we arrive at the woods where the party is taking place, an unnerving stillness has overtaken the cab. My knees burn as I climb out. I attempt to act calm, even though my palms feel like they have rocks stuck in the flesh.

The space is packed with men and a few women, and most of them are drinking as they chat around the blazing bonfire.

The trees around me create the perfect place to hide, and if I’ve learned anything from attending these parties, it's that it’s likely someone is hiding out there, watching and waiting for the right girl to stumble by, all drugged up and out of it.

I release a breath before grabbing a drink from the table. I pretend to drink it, but tonight I’m not drinking my pain away. The last time I did that I was drugged. The holes in my memories cause my stomach to lurch whenever I think about them too hard.

It’d be so much easier to be drunk and high all the time, but I need answers because I get this feeling Jason is growing tired of me.

If he dumps me, I’m unsure where that’ll leave me with this group of men I’ve spent months around, learning how they work, learning their dark secrets, learning all sorts of things that they’d probably want me dead over if they found out what I know.

After pretending to take a sip of my drink, I search for Jason in the sea of faces around me. He’s chatting with an older man in what appears to be an intense conversation. I make my way over to him, moving slowly to avoid attention being drawn to me.

“I know that, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.” Jason shakes his head and crosses his arms. “I need to get out of this place before I get blamed for everything.”

“You won’t get blamed,” the man with dark hair and eyes attempts to reassure him. “You’re not our fall guy, Jason.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jason challenges. “Because he set it up, so it looked like I killed her.”

“Killed who?” the man asks, but his tone implies he already knows.

“Zoey,” Jason hisses.

My heart stops in my chest, and I nearly drop my drink.

“If the wrong person starts looking into her death, they’ll realize it wasn’t an accident and it’ll get pinned on me, even though I didn’t fucking do it,” Jason says in a low tone.

“This whole thing is set up that way—all of us are the fall guys. And if you don’t believe that, you’re stupid.

” Jason spins around then, startling when he realizes I’m standing an inch away from him.

“What the hell are you doing? Go do your damn job.” He shoves me as he passes by me, then storms off.

My drink spills on my shoes. I grimace. “God, he’s in such a bad mood tonight.”

“Don’t hold it against him,” the man Jason was speaking to tells me. “He’s under a lot of pressure.”

“I know.” I wipe a few droplets of booze from off my arm, then turn to hurry after Jason.

“What’s your name?” the man calls out, stopping me.

I twist back toward him. “Clover.”

In the orange glow of the flames, I can make out the way his gaze drinks me in.

“You’re with Jason, right? And you’ve been with him for a while?

” he asks, and I nod. “I’d like you to meet someone.

” He nods for me to follow him as he starts toward a group of men who are standing near where the trees thicken and are isolated from everyone else.

I’ve seen them before and know they’re in charge of this group.

I don’t want to go. I know I shouldn’t. But if I deny him, I’ll come off as suspicious. And that’s not what I want right now, not when I just found out that Jason didn’t kill Zoey, which puts me one step closer to getting to the truth.

Sucking in a deep breath, I approach the men.

My aching knees and palms are on fire as I come to a stop beside them.

They’re taller than me, but that doesn’t mean much since I’m average height.

Some of them are thinner while others are bulkier.

None of this matters, though. I’m the only girl here, and that’s the main thing that causes fear to pulsate through me like venom, almost as if I’ve been bitten by a snake, which may very well be what’s about to happen. ”

“Hey.” I plaster on my best clueless smile.

“Hey,” one of the guys replies with a condescending smile.

Good. He sees me as harmless, and that’s how I want people to see me.

“What’s your name, pretty girl?” he asks, shifting his weight.

“Clover.” I smile at him.

Yes, I keep thinking I’m a dumb, dumb girl.

He chuckles. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Gag me. But I manage a soft giggle.

“This is Jason’s girl,” the guy who brought me over here introduces me. “She’s been with him for a handful of months now.”

They all nod and eye me over. Then a few tear their attention off of me and glance at a man standing at the head of the circle.

He’s tall with broad shoulders and a scruffy jawline.

He’s around my mother’s age, give or take a few years, and he’s wearing slacks and a button-down shirt, which would seem a little odd since we’re in the woods, but about half the guys here are dressed like this.

A few girls are wandering around dressed similarly to me in short skirts or tight dresses—it’s an unsaid dress code at these events.

“Clover, huh?” The man everyone is looking at speaks to me. “You’re about as old as my daughter.”

I keep on smiling, but my legs are unsteady. Does he know who I am? Does he know why I’m really here?

“What’s her name?” I ask. “Maybe I know her.”

“Don’t worry about that for now.” He steps toward me, and as the firelight casts across his face, I realize his dark eyes are ravenously drinking me as if I’m the most ideal prey he’s ever seen. He offers me his hand. “Come with me, Clover. Let’s take a little walk underneath the stars.”

I want to scream. I want to run. I want to wither into nothing where I become one with the dirt, where I’d die, and maybe there, I’d see Zoey again.

But instead, I place my hand in his.

It’s one of the worst decisions of my life, and in the end, I do wither, but I don’t die. No, my body still exists, but my soul remains buried with the rotting roots of the trees.