TROUBLE, A New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) (32 page)

I shake my head at her, all the steam leaving in the face of confusion.
 
She makes zero sense.
 
“You are insane.”

“In a good way, right?”
 
She winks.
 
“Come on.
 
They’re not home made.
 
I bought them at the store.”

“So they won’t kill me, is that what you’re saying?”

“Brat.
 
Good one, though.
 
Come on, pregnant girl.
 
Come downstairs and keep me company.
 
The guys are working late and I’m bored.”
 
She walks ahead of me and starts down the stairs.

I could follow her or go to my room and lock the door.
 
My gaze flicks from my room to Teagan’s disappearing back.
 
Do I want to be alone so I can wallow in my misery or do I want some cookies with a side of interrogation?
 
Both sound pretty awful.

Echoes of Charlie’s voice bounce around in my head and make the decision for me.
You are nothing.

Maybe eating a cookie and listening to Teagan come up with creative swear words will keep that monster at bay for a little while longer.

I follow her down the stairs and into the kitchen.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

TEAGAN PUTS A MUG OF tea and a plate with two cookies down in front of me.

“Thank you,” I say, sniffing the tea.

“It’s chamomile.
 
Perfectly safe for you and the bambino.” She sits across from me.
 
She’s already bitten into a cookie and has crumbs on her face.
 
I stare as they fall away and land on the table.

“So, who were you talking to on the phone that had you throwing up?
 
Must be a real dickcheese.”

I nod, pretending to be too busy with my cookie to answer.

“Family?”

I shake my head,
no.

“Hmmm.
 
Not family.
 
Ex boyfriend, maybe?”

I keep chewing.

“That’s what I thought.
 
That was my first guess, but I wanted to ease into it.”
 
She gives me her evil genius grin.
 
At least, I think that’s what that look is on her face.

“So, what’s his story?
 
He know about your … situation?”
 
She wiggles her eyebrows up and down.
 
For some reason it makes her questioning seem not nearly as invasive.

“His story … is that he’s a jerk.
 
That’s his story.”
 
I push a few cookie crumbs around on the table between us, arranging them into patterns.

“I have a little confession to make,” Teagan says.

My eyes go up in time to catch her sheepish look.
 
“A confession?
 
For me to hear?”

“Yes.”

This is way better than being questioned.
 
I nod to encourage her.
 
“Okay.
 
Tell me.
 
What did you do?”

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned,” she says, grinning.
 
“But I’m not feeling all that bad about it, to be honest.”

“I’m not sure about the technicalities of going to confession, but I’m pretty sure you have to feel sorry for what you did.”
 
I roll my eyes.
 
Typical Teagan.

“You see that vent over there?” She points to a metal grate in the ceiling behind us that I’m pretty sure is for the air-conditioning.

“Yeeees.”
 
I cannot imagine why she feels like a discussion of air vents is appropriate right now.
 
I suppose I should be thankful that she’s completely changing the subject. Maybe she has ADD.

“Well, you know, all the vents have ductwork connecting them to the a/c unit.”

“Okaaaay.”
 
I shrug.
 
And I care about that because … ?

“And I guess when the system was being put together, some of those ducts kind of were connected
together
.”

I wait for the big reveal.
 
She seems to be getting worked up about something, the way she’s staring at me, but I have no idea what it is.

“And so it turns out that when a person is having a conversation in the
attic
, a person sitting down
here
in the
kitchen
can hear it.”
 
Her eyebrows are wiggling again.

It takes a few seconds for her words to process.

The attic.

The kitchen.

They’re connected.

“They’re
connected
?” I ask, fear taking my heart.
 
“The attic and the kitchen are connected by the ducts?”

She nods.
 
“Yeah.
 
Connected.
 
Like a giant belly button cord is between them.
 
Or a telephone line.”

“So what does that mean?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

She taps the edge of her tea mug.
 
“It means that nothing you say up there is private if there are people here in the kitchen.”

“You heard me,” I whisper.
 
“When I was talking to Colin.
 
You heard me.”
 
I get halfway up out of my seat.

“No!
 
Sit!” Teagan says, jumping up and pushing down on my shoulder.
 
“No freaking out allowed.”

I let her push me back down, but I’m not happy about staying.
 
“I can’t believe you eavesdropped on me.
 
That’s so rude!”

“I didn’t!”
 
She sits back down.
 
“You were talking and we heard some of it.
 
Not all of it.
 
And it’s only eavesdropping if a person does it on purpose.”

“We?
 
Who’s
we
?”

She cringes.
 
“Pretty much all of us.”

My head drops down to rest on the back of my arm that’s propped up on the table.
 
“God, why do you keep torturing me like this?”

“Are you calling me God now?
 
Because it’s flattering, but I’m not sure I’m ready for the responsibility.”

“Shut up, Teagan.”

“I have a surprise for you,” she says, sounding mischievous again.

“I don’t want it.
 
I don’t want to see it, I don’t want to taste it, I don’t want to even know what it is. I’m too young to die.”

“I think you might change your miiiind.” She’s almost singing.

 
I lift my head just enough to see her face.
 
“You sound way too happy.
 
It makes me very nervous.”

She stands.
 
“Come on.
 
I want to show you something.”
 
She leaves the kitchen and goes to the back door.

Deciding she can’t do too much harm in the backyard, I follow her out.
 
She’s standing on the edge of the deck, pointing out into the darkness.

“What am I looking at?” I ask.

“See that hole?”

I squint to try and focus past the light thrown from the back door.
 
There’s a rectangular dark space over in the corner, near the fence line.
 
“Is that a hole?
 
It’s hard to see it from here.”

“It’s not just a hole,” she says in a loud whisper.
 
“It’s a
grave
.”

My head whips sideways to look at her.
 
“A grave?
 
For what?”

“Not for what,” she says.
 
“For
who
.”

“For
whom
,” I correct.

“For who, for whom. Who cares about prepositions? I’m talking about a graaave.”

“It’s not a preposition, you dope, it’s a relative pronoun.”

“Whatever!
 
The point is … it’s a grave.”
 
She’s wiggling her eyebrows again.
 
I can catch the movement just barely in the dim glow of the porch light.

“Why on earth is there a grave in our backyard?”

She shrugs as she looks out into the darkness.
 
“Oh, I don’t know.
 
Just in case there are any rapists out there in the world who need to be gotten rid of.”

I nearly choke.
 
“Teagan!”

“What?” She’s the picture of innocence.
 
“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

“I swear to God … you’re completely and totally nuts.”
 
I look from her face to the grave and back again.
 
This can’t be real.
 
It’s probably just a flowerbed or something.

“Not nuts.
 
Angry.”
 
She turns to look at me.
 
“I heard what you said, Alissa.
 
That guy deserves to be in that grave, face down, dirt up his asscrack, and his dick in a separate county.”

My emotions are all over the place.
 
Hurt. Angry. Frustrated. Sad. And loved. I feel loved.
 
There’s no denying it.
 
Without thinking too hard about it, I grab Teagan into a hug, doing the best I can with this giant belly between us.

She pats me on the back.
 
“See?
 
That’s what I’m talking about. Some enthusiasm over vengeful thoughts.
 
Finally
.
 
That shit is healthy, I don’t care what anyone says.
 
I felt tons better after three hours of digging.
 
I call it shovel therapy.”

I pull back, smiling.
 
“You don’t care who says what?”

Teagan sighs.
 
“Quin.
 
She’s a big time downer when it comes to the grave.
 
She’s anti-grave.
 
Anti shovel-therapy, too.
 
I had to do it all by myself.”

“Really?
 
That’s surprising.” I can picture both of them with a shovel in their hands.
 
I’m almost able to see myself with one, too.

“She watches too many Bones episodes.”
 
Teagan sighs while staring out at her creation.
 
“Apparently, there’s no way I can use that grave and get away with it.
 
Too much forensic evidence working against me.”
 
She shakes her head slowly.
 
“Fucking science.
 
Always was my downfall.”
 
She puts her arm around my shoulders and leads me back to the kitchen. “Come on. Those cookies are calling to me and my ass isn’t quite big enough yet.”

We’re back in the kitchen with our cold tea and cookies, but my heart is about a pound lighter than it was before I left.
 
“I can’t believe you dug a grave.”
 
I shake my head at the craziness. I seriously love her right now.

“Okay, so I really wasn’t going to kill your boyfriend and bury him, but it was a symbolic thing. I was angry and I had to do something constructive with all that energy.
 
Rebel says I need to channel my shit.”

“Rebel’s probably right, but … a grave?”
 
I giggle a little.
 
The demon in me can see Charlie’s face staring up at me from inside and I don’t hate the vision.

“I heard what you said, okay?
 
A grave seemed the most appropriate reaction at the time.”

I try to keep smiling, but I can’t hold it.

“Don’t get all watery on me,” Teagan says.
 
“Let’s just talk about where we go from here.”

“There’s no
we
.
 
It’s just me.”

“Oh, bull testicles.
 
Stop with the Oh-Poor-Me program, will ya?
 
It’s old.
 
It’s out of style.
 
It’s used up.
 
We’re all in this with you, okay?
 
We all heard the story.
 
We can’t un-hear it.
 
So let
us
channel our collective energy into some serious action.”
 
She reaches out and holds my wrist.
 
“I’m not playing, okay?
 
Let’s be adults about this.
 
Let’s do the right thing by you and your baby.
 
What’s her name, by the way?
 
Is it Teagan?
 
Quin and I have a bet going.”

I laugh.
 
“You’re too much.”

“It better not be Quin. I’m serious.
 
I probably won’t get over that, like ever.
 
I’m a seriously jealous person when it comes to baby names.”

“Since when?”

“Since right this second.
 
I just pictured your baby and you calling her Quin and I barfed a little in my mouth.”

“No, you didn’t.”
 
I’m still laughing.
 
She’s so ridiculous.

“Was that him on the phone?”

My laughs completely dry up and disappear.
 
I take a long drink of my tea.

“You were talking to him when I walked into your room, weren’t you?”

I sigh heavily and roll my eyes.
 
“Can we not talk about this right now?”

“EEErrrrp!
 
Wrong answer.”
 
She takes my remaining cookie.
 
“Stop stalling and start talking, sister.
 
I had a nap today.
 
I can go all night. I will wear you down to a speck of a person.
 
All the forensic teams will find is a hair follicle.”

“Ew.
 
Okay, fine.
 
Yes.
 
It was him.”

“Did he call you or you call him?”