The wood nearest me is all rotted. But over in the far corner, the part that hangs past the platform below, there’s a huge pile of leaves, which means the wood underneath is intact. If I could just reach over there, sweep them aside—
I stretch as far as I can while still holding on to the tree trunk. But it’s not far enough.
I test a piece of rotted wood near me. It holds under my hand. I put my other hand out. No falling wood. If I lie across the bottom of the tree house, maybe it will be able to hold my weight.
I lean forward, my feet on the plank, bracing myself against the least-rotted part of the wood. Sweep leaves aside. Nothing. Then, slowly, hesitantly, I lift one knee onto the tree house floor.
I test it. Still sturdy. I pull my other knee up, until I’m on all fours. Sweep the leaves in front of me aside. Nothing. I move forward, creeping cautiously. Again, nothing. Reach for the farthest corner of the tree house, where the biggest pile of leaves sits. Move my leg forward—
And crash down through empty air.
34
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
The sky above me is black. Or maybe it’s me. I can’t breathe, I can’t see—
Then a shadow above me, blocking out the sky—
Hands on mine, pulling me up.
“Deep breaths.”
I inhale. Exhale.
A hand on my back, dark eyes peering into mine. Seth.
“Addie. You okay?”
I take another breath. “I…think…so.”
“You sure? I saw you fall.”
I look up. There’s a hole in the rotted wood of the tree house bottom. I just missed the platform below it by a foot or so.
Then my hand flies to my waistband. The phone is still there, at the front of my body. I sigh in relief.
I look back at Seth. “Where did you even come from?”
He’s dressed in a plain T-shirt and shorts, actual sneakers on his feet, baseball cap jammed over his curls. He scratches his eyebrow. “I was on my way to your place, actually.”
I eye him suspiciously. “This way?”
“I was trying not to be seen.”
“Why didn’t you just text me?”
“I did. You didn’t answer.” He looks at the phone in my waistband—obviously mistaking it for the one he gave me.
I can’t tell him about this phone. Not until I find out what’s on it. If it really was Fiona’s, if she was actually using it to contact some wealthy benefactor who may have killed her, I have to figure it out on my own. Make sure Seth’s dad isn’t said wealthy benefactor before letting him in on it.
I try to sound casual. “It died while I was running.” In truth, I left it at home.
“Oh.” He scratches his scar. “I figured you were mad at me.”
My breath is slowly returning to normal. My heart rate, too. Seth isn’t suspicious of anything. Just here to have the awkward morning-after conversation.
I need to run back to my house so I can charge the phone, but I can’t do that with Seth standing in front of me, looking all concerned. And I know there’s only one way to get rid of him.
“I’m not mad,” I say. “I just went for a run to…clear my head.”
He looks up at the tree house, the leaves still spiraling down. “And decided to hang out up there?”
“I had the idea to look for Fiona’s journal, actually.” It’s not exactly a lie.
Seth’s eyebrows go up. “Well?”
I shake my head. “Nada.”
He looks disappointed. “Next time, maybe let me know before you nearly kill yourself climbing trees?”
“Will do.” A beat. “I need to get home—”
“Wait,” he says, as I knew he would. “We need to talk about last night.”
“I told you. I’m not mad.”
