Page 17 of First Chance

“What is it, Jordy?”

Jordy glances at me before looking back at Lochlan silently. He doesn’t want to say it in front of me. He’s one of the more clean-cut guys, hardly appearing as someone who works a labor-intensive job because of his well-kept demeanor.

“Jo, stay inside the rest of the day. Let me know when you leave.” Lochlan meets Jordy at the four-wheeler, and they speak to each other in hushed tones before they all take off across the yard in a direction I haven’t been yet.

I piddle around for an hour inside before I’m supposed to be done for the day, but I can’t seem to make myself leave. It’s getting closer to summer, so the days are longer. Lochlan told me I wasn’t allowed to be here at night, but the sun is setting later each day.

He walks in through the back door into the kitchen sometime after 6:30 and skids to a stop when he sees mesitting at the table with my textbooks.

He backpedals, dropping a small shoe box on top of the washer near the back door. “Don’t look in that,” he mutters as he passes by me to get into the refrigerator.

Well, now all I want to do is look in the box.

Why is it a secret?

“Are you planning to stay much longer?” He asks gruffly, downing a can of beer in nearly one drink.

“I’m about to leave, I just wanted to get some studying done before I went home.”

“I’m heading out in about twenty minutes, be gone by then.” He’s climbing the stairs before I can respond. Not even a minute later, I hear the pipes in the ceiling and assume he started the shower.

Being in his home while he’s showering feels like an invasion of privacy. I don’t think twice before stuffing all of my materials back into my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder, but I still hesitate to leave.

What’s in the box?

The water is running steadily upstairs as I tiptoe to the back door and crack the lid of the box with the tip of my acrylic fingernail.

I gasp, dropping the lid and running before I have a chance to process what I just saw.

Animal heads. Two cats, a rabbit, a bird, and a raccoon.

Cold, foggy eyes, stained fur, and their tongues loose from their mouths. A horrifying display of cruelty despite there not being blood in the box. I shouldn’t have looked.

I’ve been sitting in my car way too long, gripping my steering wheel, when I hear the front door shut. I look up as Lochlan locks eyes with me, the shoe box in his hand.

I shift into reverse, getting the hell out of here before I have to admit to Lochlan that I didn’t listen to him.

Where is he taking it?

It consumes me the entire drive to my parents’ house.

I should just ask him, but I don’t want to tell him that I looked.

I’m so distracted by my thoughts that I forgot my brother would be here for dinner tonight. I see his car as I pull up the driveway to the old white colonial mansion. Black shutters and red doors make it look wicked and charming all at once.

“It’s rude to be late,” my mother greets me sourly as I walk in through the doors. Her short artificially blonde bob isstyled impeccably, and her navy chiffon dress swings around her calves ever so properly.

“I’m not coming to dinner, I already ate.”

“Of course, you did. You’re expected at the dinner table. Pick at a salad for all I care.” She stalks off across the foyer, click-clacking in her shiny silver heels. “You need more highlights in your hair, make an appointment at the salon,” she adds before she walks through the doors to the parlor. I’m sure my father and brother are in there having a glass of scotch.

She’s always hated my brown hair and insisted that I start bleaching it when I was barely 12. Every time I try to go for a more natural balayage, she never fails to mention how it’s not blonde enough.

Unfortunately for her, my boring chocolate brown eyes can’t be changed as easily. If it were acceptable, she’d insist I wear colored contacts.

I reluctantly follow her into the parlor because if I don’t, then I’ll never hear the end of it. As expected, my brother is sitting in a chair across from my father while my mother scolds one of the house staff.

“I have a campaign speech on Friday, JoAnna, you’re expected to be on time,” my brother says without bothering with any fake niceties first.

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