Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

Her mouth fell open, and my heart sped up. She looked affronted at the accusation.

Her eyes shot to Michael and then Will, who all stared at her the same as Kai. Protecting him? Why would they think that?

No one said anything, and then she blinked, scoffing as she grabbed her plate and walked away from all of them, toward me and the doorway.

I stepped out from behind the wall, out of her way, and she charged past me without a glance.

Kai noticed me, and his expression softened. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “There’s breakfast.”

I looked at the spread on the buffet table, nodding. “Yeah, in a minute.”

I turned and walked past the stairs, into the study, and saw Rika disappear with her plate out into the garden.

After last night, I didn’t think we were friends, but I was curious. If my brother sent her a package to scare her, why wasn’t she more concerned? It wasn’t only Kai picking up on her signals, either. The way Michael and Will had looked at her…

I followed her outside, thankful for the clouds blocking out the bright morning sun. She settled herself on the ground, leaning up against a tree. Resting her head back, she placed her plate of food at her side but didn’t eat.

I walked over to her.

“Hey,” I said as I crouched down and laid on the ground.

She nodded, still looking preoccupied.

“Damon sent you matchbooks?” I asked, not hesitating. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I collect them,” she answered. “My father used to bring some back from his travels, and I started hoarding them. Michael carried on the tradition, bringing me back ones he finds on trips out of town I don’t join him on.”

So, Damon knew she liked them. “And he sent you ones from Meridian City,” I figured. He wanted her to know he’d been here. Or that he was here now.

She was quiet for a while, and I wanted to ask more—ask why she wasn’t angry—but we weren’t friends, and I knew she didn’t trust me. After what happened last night, though, I hoped we could talk a little easier.

“You grew up with Damon?” she asked.

“For a while.”

She opened her mouth to speak but then stopped, hesitating.

“Did you ever… see anything?” she asked, picking at her thumbs in her lap. “Things that might’ve happened to him?”

What?

She knew?

“Did Damon tell you something?” I questioned.

“No, of course not.” She shook her head. “Michael’s brother, Trevor, did, though, once. I had no reason to trust him, but I can’t imagine why he’d make up a story like that. It made sense, given the way Damon is.”

She finally looked up, and I was afraid of what she’d say. Damon didn’t want anyone to know about anything that happened at home. I couldn’t talk about this.

“He said Damon’s mother…” she said, looking like she was struggling to get the words out, “that she started hurting him when he was twelve.” And then she closed her eyes, lowering her voice. “Raping him.”

So, she knew. Had she told Michael?

“God, it makes me sick just thinking about it.” She sucked in a breath, looking away.

But then she just shrugged, waving me off. “Never mind. It’s still no excuse. I just think if he wanted to act he would’ve a long time ago, and we should just leave well-enough alone. Maybe he’s suffered, and while I’ll never forgive him, let him try to find what peace he can. He’s sick, and no good comes from poking a sleeping bear.”

I agreed with her. It was still no excuse. Plenty of people had it rough and behaved just fine.