As she walked, she thought of nothing but finding Ned. This weekend was crucial for Abella, a chance to prove to Jasper she fit in his life like a key in a lock. They’d been dating only a handful of weeks, but she was hopeful he saw her as more than a fling. He’d invited her here, hadn’t he? That had to count for something. Her job situation and status in the country, that stuff would resolve itself. In the meantime, she couldn’t risk a misstep that might make him question how he felt. Her every move had to look effortless. She needed her presence to feel natural, not just to Jasper but to all of the Sinclairs. She wanted them to feel like she’d been there all along.

Slippery moss coated the rocks and the wind thrashed her from all angles. It made Abella move like a kid on a balance beam, arms windmilling ridiculously, on the verge of wiping out. The closer she got to the shed, the more convinced she was that she was right. Ned had gone to get firewood. A fire would be nice.

She reached the door. Should she knock? No, that would be weird. Instead, she put her hand on the rusty latch, the iron so cold it felt hot to the touch. She squinted through the window at the darkness inside, and felt a zing of horror whiz down her spine.

It couldn’t be. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. There was clutter everywhere, dangling garden tools and rope and woodworking instruments with mean edges that glinted in the pale light—and in the middle of it all stood Ned. His pants were a puddle around his feet. In front of him a woman leaned over a sawhorse, Ned’s hand a dark tattoo on the creamy skin of her hip. Behind a wave of dark hair, Abella could just make out the pinched-eye, openmouthed expression of ecstasy on Bebe Sinclair’s face.

With her heart beating wildly in her rib cage, Abella stared at Ned and Bebe as their bodies bucked and swayed. The scene in the shed was horrible and hypnotic and she couldn’t look away. What she was witnessing was dangerous, and Abella knew it. She couldn’t win. If they saw her, she’d no longer be Jasper’s girlfriend but an infectious disease that could spread throughout the house to compromise the health of countless relationships. Flynn and Ned, Bebe and Miles, Abella and Jasper . . . all were at risk. If anyone else found out what she now knew, she’d be the one blamed. Abella was a stranger, the family would say, only there to spread rumors and cause trouble. They were Jasper’s blood relatives. When they urged him to cut her from his life, he’d listen.

The raincoat’s hood trapped the heat of her body and Abella felt as if she’d stuck her head in an oven and was waiting, fearful and frozen, for the gas to take effect. Go, she thought. Go now. With a burst of adrenaline she turned and sprinted back to the house. The wind screamed across the open land, shoving her left and right. She was almost at the mudroom door, so close she could see the jackets hanging inside, when the heel of her shoe slipped and she went down on the rocks with a grunt, her pulse thundering in her ears.