Page 11 of Whispers of the Lake

The truth is, Cole and I were reaching the finish line way before he’d had sex with Eve. Our marriage had only been going for two years and was already on the rocks. I was working too much; he was working too little. He’d gotten laid off from one of the top engineering companies in Charlotte and was trying to start up his own business. Soon it’d gotten to a point where he was working way more than I was.

We weren’t making much time for each other. In the beginning, it was so romantic. He’d send me flowers and take me out on dates. We’d walk the boardwalk in University, and grab ice cream from Ninety’s. We would hold hands and kiss until we were breathless. A lot of that changed within a year. I couldn’t fully blame him for what he’d done with Eve.

Eve didn’t know at the time that I was thinking about moving out of the house. She had no idea that I was refusing to go home because I didn’t want to get into an argument with Cole over bills and money. She had no clue that he’d been drinking a lot more, that he was vulnerable, desperate, lonely.

But she’d made her choice. Instead of walking away, she let it happen. She let my drunk husband come on to her, probably kiss her, then eventually fuck her on the couch I used to share with him. The couch where he’d be watching some sports game and I’d have my head on his lap while reading a novel. The couch where we dealt with losses and celebrated our wins. The couch where we had the discussion that I needed some time to myself—that our marriage wasn’t working. That we’d rushed into it and now I wasn’t sure what to do.

This wasn’t all on Eve. It was on Cole too. But for some reason, I was hurt by her the most.

Cole and I were drifting apart at the time of their affair, but I’d had it in the back of my mind that we’d be okay again. That once we both had time to breathe and Cole gained some footing with his new business, we could have a nice dinner and a deep discussion about our future and move things along. That all came crashing down when I came home one night for my laptop charger and saw them.

His pants around his ankles.

Her dress in a puddle on the floor.

Her lips red and raw.

His breaths ragged.

The flare of his nostrils.

Her apologetic, fear-filled eyes as she shoved him away and ran toward me, completely naked—and with the best fucking body ever, mind you. A body ten times better looking than mine. She exercised four times a week. I was lucky if I could squeeze in exercise four times a month.

I had nothing to say to either of them that night. I’d already been distancing myself from Eve because of her ridiculous actions, but this took the cake. We were done.Iwas done.

Instead of letting her plead her case, I backed out of the house and slammed the door. I got in my car and rushed to Best Buy before they closed so I could buy a new charger. While lying on a hotel bed that same night, I looked at apartment listings with puffy eyes.

I hadn’t talked to Eve since.

CHAPTER NINE

Sage Hill, North Carolina. That was Eve’s last known location.

According to what Nico sent this morning, he couldn’t trace her phone and assumed it was off, but he found out when she’d last used her laptop by sifting through her emails. It was the night before Zoey called me to say she was worried.

In the emails, Nico also discovered that Eve had booked a two-bedroom cottage on Lake Aquilla. I ended up searching for the listing of the house to get a better visual of where she was.

According to the online booking calendar, the cottage was still reserved today, September 7th. I couldn’t put in a booking until September 9th.

This meant one of two things: Eve was still there, or someone else had booked right after she’d checked out and was staying for, what, one night? I checked some of the reviews and saw several complaints about spotty cell service and Wi-Fi. That alone didn’t make much sense because Eve needed reliable Wi-Fi like she needed water.

I remembered what Zoey told me the day before. Eve wanted a break from traveling and vlogging. Perhaps she’d purposely booked the cottage so she wouldn’t wind up scrolling through social media or comparing her content to others. She did that a lot. All that to say, it still didn’t make sense that Eve wasn’t answering her phone or any of her texts. I texted Zoey right after gathering the information about the cabin and asked if she’d heard from Eve yet.

Nothing.

Diana hadn’t and neither had our dad.

If there was one thing I knew about Eve Castillo, her phone wasalwaysin her hand. She was always texting, scrolling, posting, chatting. She was always online, even when she pretended not to be.

Seated in my office, I took a sip of water before going to YouTube and searching for her channel. She had over thirty-two videos, many of them featuring her travels to different cities or countries and showing off her views, outfits, and the foods she ate. She had a whopping 252,000 subscribers—all people who lived vicariously through the pretty Latina girl who traveled.

Her last video was uploaded two weeks ago. A three-day trip to Dubai. Eve was a biweekly poster. If she wasn’t uploading to YouTube, she was posting on Instagram. I’d previously blocked Eve on Instagram. My thumb felt heavy as I unblocked her to check her profile. Her last picture was posted five days ago and for some reason, my heart dropped when I saw where she was.

She was standing in front of the cottage from the listing. Clearly on a dock, with the home in the distance at the top of a hill, it’s gold lights glowing behind her like halos. It was autumn, so the leaves behind her were vibrant hues of saffron, yellow, and brown.

Supposedly she’d checked into the cottage five days ago. She was smiling on the dock with her hands raised in the air like she was the happiest girl in the world. It annoyed me for a split second, thinking about how she might’ve been holed up in that marvelous home, ignoring everyone and doing God knows what.

The annoyance passed the more I thought about who my ex–best friend truly was.

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