Page 8 of Where Daisies Breathe (Star Meadows #2)

AVA

C lover had an obsession with daisies. I was her daisy friend.

Her wallet had a daisy on it. She wore shirts, dresses, and skirts with daisies dotting the fabric.

And she’d often tuck a freshly picked daisy behind her ear or weave a few into her hair after she braided it. She even did that to my hair once.

It was when we ditched school and were hanging out in the park.

I was sitting on the bench, and she was on the table right behind me, braiding my hair.

The air was chilly, and the branches swayed back and forth, causing wisps of my hair to flutter around my face, making it difficult for her to get all of the locks tucked into the braid.

But eventually, she managed to finish it.

“There,” she declared, letting go of my hair. The braid hung down my back. I started to stand up, but she quickly said, “Wait, just a second.” She swung her feet off the side of the table, hopped off, then wandered over to a patch of grass across from us.

“Where are you going?” I called out as I touched the braid.

It was the first time I’d ever had my hair braided—usually, I wore it down, since I didn’t know what to do with it.

“Getting the finishing touch.” She stopped at the patch of grass and picked the last daisy growing in the area. Then she returned to me. “It’s the last one of the season.” She tucked it behind my ear.

“Maybe you should put it in your hair, then,” I suggested. “Since you like them so much.”

“I like you more,” she replied. “Besides, it looks good in your hair. And when you take it out, you should dry it and keep it. That way, you can always have a piece of me with you.”

I wanted to ask her if she said that because she believed that one day we’d no longer be friends, but I was too afraid of the answer. Looking back, I wish I had.

I wish I’d asked her a lot of things.

I pick up the vase of daisies and note, then step back into the hotel room and shut the door.

Fear is pulsating through me, but not over the idea that Clover left this note, that somehow she’s returned from the dead and come back to haunt me.

I don’t believe that. What I do know is that whoever left this for me knows a great deal about my friendship with Clover.

They’re also aware that I’m staying at this hotel.

A thought crosses my mind then that leaves me feeling as if I’m falling.

What if Ellis did this?

“No, why would he?” I mutter as I set the note and flowers down on the dresser.

“What is that?” Clara asks as she sits up and rubs her sleepy eyes.

“It’s nothing.” I lie. But when her gaze shifts to the flowers, I know I have to give a better explanation. “Okay, it’s not nothing.”

“What is it then?” She rakes her fingers through her hair as she lowers her feet to the floor and sits up.

I open my mouth to tell her a better woven lie, but it unravels as it leaves my lips and the truth tumbles into the air in a tangled mess. By the time I’ve finished explaining about the flowers and the meaning behind them, she’s visibly pale.

“Jesus,” she breathes out, her attention shifting from me to the daisies. “That’s so damn creepy.” She visibly swallows hard. “Who do you think left them?”

“I have no idea.” I glance down at the note. Whoever left them seemed to want me to believe that Clover did it. Like maybe she didn’t die. But she did—I saw her lifeless body lying on that cold bathroom floor.

Who would be so cruel to want to play with my mind?

A handful of people are on that list, but again, how would anyone know I was here? Then again, I’ve gone in and out of the hotel a few times.

I sink onto the bed with a heavy sigh. “It has to be someone who knows I’m staying here.” My mind drifts back to the person who has left me several creepy voicemails and calls.

Sometimes it seems as if they’re watching me, but who the hell are they?

I should tell Ellis about those. That is, if I haven’t already—I can’t remember. I wonder how long he’ll be.

I check the time on my phone and raise my brows. “Shit, it’s way later than I thought.” I pocket my phone. “We should head over to my mother’s house to get our stuff. She’s probably about to leave.”

“She is?”

“Oh, yeah, so she messaged me while you were asleep and told me I had to go to this family dinner at my aunt and uncle’s at six, which means she won’t be at the house.”

“Good.” Relief washes over her features.

“Let me go wash my face first.” She stretches her arms, yawns, then pushes to her feet.

“You should call Ellis and let him know where we’re going.

” When I toss her a perplexed look, she adds, “Aves, your mother is sketchy. Jason is sketchy. Honestly, it seems like your entire family is sketchy. And we’re walking straight into their territory.

We need to be safe, even if your mother is supposedly gone.

” She starts toward the bathroom. “And you don’t even know where Jason is staying.

I know you think he’s staying with his parents, but your mother picked him up from the airport, so what if he’s staying with her? ”

I frown tugs at my lips. “Good point.”

“You do that and I’ll be right back.” She hurries into the bathroom and closes the door.

My attention goes straight to the flowers. My mind is spinning with ideas of who could have left them. However, in the end, it gets stuck in a loop.

Jason?

My mother?

The anonymous caller?

The person who left me notes in the car?

Clover?

The latter is insane. I know this. But a tiny part of me wants to latch onto the hope that it could be possible.

Shaking my head at my own madness, I grab my phone and dial Ellis’ number.

“Hey,” he answers after two rings. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I chew on my thumbnail. “Clara suggested that I tell someone we’re heading over to my mother’s house to get our stuff. With what’s going on, I think she’s nervous.”

“I’m glad you let me know,” he replies. “I’m nervous about you going there… Maybe you should wait until I can go with you.”

“We’ll be fine. You’re busy. And besides, no one will be home for a while.” I cross my legs then uncross them, fidgetiness bubbling through me.

“Can you at least text me when you leave, so I know everything went smoothly?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, thank you.” He sounds relieved, which means he’s been anxious.

Does he feel this way because of what I told him? Or does he know something he hasn’t revealed yet? He is investigating my father’s murder, so the probability of that is high.

“Is everything okay with you?” I question. “You seem… I don’t know, uneasy.”

He doesn’t immediately respond. “Everything’s fine. Just please be careful. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

I don’t believe him, but he’s a detective and might not be able to divulge the information to me. So, I let it go, agree to do as he requests, and then we hang up.

As I sit in the silence, I attempt to convince myself that everything will be all right. But as a petal from one of the daisies falls off, I wonder if Clover is somehow reaching from her grave to warn me.