Secrets We Keep (Thistle Cove 1)
Juliette’s face fills the screen—obviously from an earlier interview.
“You’re Rose’s best friend. Can you tell me how you’re handling everything going on?”
“It’s rough, Janice,” Juliette says, looking like she just swiped on a fresh coat of mascara. “Rose and I did everything together. We had so many plans for senior year. We’re co-captains of the cheer squad, and we’ve been visiting colleges. I know people think that Rose left on her own, but I don’t believe it. There’s no way she’d leave and not tell me. There’s no way she’d leave her boyfriend, Finn, and not let him know. It’s just not like her.”
As much as I hate Juliette, she’s right.
“So you’re concerned that something terrible has happened to her?”
Juliette bites down on her bottom lip and nods, a single, fat tear rolling down her face. “Deep down it’s my biggest fear.” She sniffs. “But until I know for sure, I’ll keep looking for her and holding out hope.”
Janice turns away from Juliette and faces the camera. “Another announcement was made today by local lawyer Ezra Baxter. He held a meeting a short while ago.”
Again, the screen flips and Mr. Baxter, who is just as handsome, if not more so than his son, stands in front of the police station. “As a long-time friend of the Waller family, I’m devastated about the news of Rose’s disappearance. I’d like to offer a ten-thousand-dollar reward for any credible information that comes in about Rose’s whereabouts. Hopefully anyone reluctant to come forward with details about what happened to Rose two nights ago will be motivated to do so.”
Janice faces the camera. “As you can tell, the community love and support is strong in Thistle Cove…”
She rambles on for a few more minutes, mentioning the football game still scheduled to take place on Friday and additional searches the next day. I ease away, overwhelmed with how Rose’s disappearance has taken over every aspect of our lives, and it doesn’t seem like that’s going to change any time soon.
I’m sitting at my desk, working on my Spanish homework, halfway conjugating verbs and halfway thinking about the glint of gray in Ozzy’s eyes today when we were in the car. I’m not sure, because I don’t have much experience with this stuff, but I think he wanted to kiss me. The hair prickled on the back of my neck and his eyes darted down to my lips. Classic signs, right?
I start to pick up my phone to call Alice. We can over-analyze this for hours if we need to. It’s been done before. But I remember that we’re taking a break from one another
right now, and the light across the way turns on, and a bright glare shines through the dark.
From my window, I can see Finn as he leans over his desk, and after a bit of a struggle, gets his window to open, lifting it over his head. The motion reveals the toned abs that ladder up his stomach. There are times I don’t want to feel attraction to Finn, years and months of me willing it away, but I can’t help myself.
Once his window is secure he gestures for me to do the same. I freeze and seriously have one of those ‘who me?’ moments, like in the movies.
He nods, and I crawl on top of mine to reach the little finger ledge. I do so, managing to only knock off my Spanish book in the process. Mine slides open easily and when I look up again, he’s out on the small ledge that acts as an awning for the side door below. I crawl out to the wider surface of the roof that makes up the porch roof.
“Hey,” he says, modulating his voice for the distance but not too loud to alert our parents.
“Hi.”
He’s barefoot and wearing purple sweatpants with the number 14 stamped on the hip. The casual outfit is rounded out with a purple and gold football hoodie. The temperature cooled, and I’m regretting the thin fabric of my nightshirt with nothing over it.
“You think I can make it?” he asks, eyeing the gap between our houses. It’s not huge, but it’s a good drop to the concrete driveway below.
“Don’t you dare.”
He grins, and it’s nice to see it on his face. He presses back against the house, laying his hand flat against the siding. I think he’s joking—God, tell me he’s joking—but he takes two quick steps and leaps over the space, hurtling through the air.
“Finn!” I shout, then covering my mouth, unable to close my eyes. He lands with a thud, caterwauling into the side of the house. His chest heaves, that grin now smug with success. He opens his mouth to speak, but I place my finger to his lips.
“Shhh!”
“Ken?” My dad calls from the hallway. “Everything okay in there?”
I stick my head through the open window. “Yep. Just dropped a stack of books!”
“Okay then. Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”