Page 50 of Whispers of the Lake

“Did she invite you there?”

“Yes. She said she . . . that she wanted me to be there. She said she missed me. She . . .fuck, I think you broke my nose, man.”

“Keep talking,” I heard Nico growl.

“That’s all I know. For real,” Lincoln said.

“Was she drinking?” I asked. “Did you have her doing coke?”

“I don’t make her do lines, she willingly does it. But no, she wasn’t doing any of that. She kept telling me she wanted to change. That she wanted to be a better person. I didn’t hurt her, I swear. We had a good time, and she wanted me.” He paused to groan. “When I left the next morning, I saw someone driving to that place, though.”

“A man or a woman?”

“I don’t know. The windows were tinted so I couldn’t really see. Could’ve been multiple people.”

“Well, what kind of car were they driving?”

“An Aston Martin,” Lincoln answered. “It was like . . . like a metallic red color or some shit.”

The next question I asked was highly unlikely, but I went for it anyway. “Did you happen to see their license plate?”

“No. I—I didn’t really care to look. Please, I promise you I didn’t do shit to Eve! I don’t know where she is! I’ve been calling her for days and she hasn’t picked up!”

I sighed. Lincoln may have been an asshole, but he was astupidasshole. He wasn’t smart or calculating enough to be behind this. Oddly enough, I believed he was telling the truth.

“Fine,” I muttered. “You can let him go, Nico.”

Eve Castillo journal entry

I miss Rose.

I don’t know how to make things up to her. I feel like I should reach out to Cole and have him do something to win her back. Then maybe she’ll forgive me? I don’t know. Rose is a sucker for romantic gestures. She likes being surprised. If she restores her marriage there’s hope our relationship can be salvaged too.

It was Ben’s birthday yesterday, but I didn’t get invited. Zoey went and asked if I was coming. I had to tell her I was busy and wouldn’t make it. I hate lying to Zoey. But I’d rather lie than have her find out the truth—that I’m a shit friend who can’t reject her best friend’s husband.

Here’s the crazy thing though. I started seeing a therapist and she thinks I’m envious of Rose.

She believes that, deep down, there’s a part of me that is jealous of her life—that secretly a part of me blames her for my struggles. I couldn’t say that I’ve ever felt that way, but my therapist broke it down for me.

“It’s not blatant envy,” she said. The way she explained it is that I have this friend who has lived a decent life. Meanwhile I’ve lived a shitty one. We became friends at a young age, so I watched her grow with me, year after year, getting better and better while I’d practically remained stagnant.

Rose’s boyfriends were always really into her. All the boys who were into me only wanted me for sex. She had loving family members to throw surprise parties for her, or to buy her a car. I had no loving family other than Zoey and Abuela. Rose was considered family, but I’d never ask her to throw me a party. They would cook for me. But as far as having a car . . . yeah, I had to buy my own and I wasn’t even able to do that until I was twenty.

Rose going to college while I couldn’t afford it. Rose graduating while I was stuck working at H&M. Having a dad who was proud of her every step of the way and not one like mine, who beat me, cursed me out, and made me feel less than human.

Then she married the guy I once had to myself. My therapist made me question that aspect of it. She asked me if I had purposely stayed around Cole without Rose being present because, subconsciously, I was upset that he’d chosen her over me. She also asked if I was harboring anger because he didn’t try harder to keep me. If I was troubled because he treated Rose ten times better than he’d ever treated me, prior to his cheating.

Was I seeking attention?

Wanting Rose’s life?

Was I truly envious and oblivious to it?

In a way, I wanted what she had. I longed to be loved and appreciated too. That’s a sad, bitter pill to swallow. Without even realizing it, I was throwing blame on my best friend. One of the only people in the world to truly love me for me, despite my flaws, my rebellion, my lust. One of the people who would have loved me unconditionally had I not betrayed her.

I silently blamed Rose because I’m miserable. And, according to my therapist, I wanted my misery to have company . . . Even if it cost me everything.

Eve Castillo journal entry

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