“I don’t know,” Ben exploded. “All I know is something is wrong and I’m panicking. Nothing about this feels right. You don’t sense it?”

“You’re fucking right it doesn’t.” Kade’s voice was just as angry, and he stepped into Ben’s space. “You want to tell me how to feel right now?”

“Stop it, both of you,” Luke said. “Yes, something is wrong. Last night I told Esme I loved her. She told me she had a hard time saying things, but it didn’t mean she didn’t feel them. So yes, something is fucking wrong.”

“Hello?” Wes answered his phone. I was the closest, and he handed it straight to me.

“Esme?”

“No, it’s Eva. Jasmine remembered something else.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. “Tell me.”

“When she came in, and Jasmine let her listen, it was right after you guys were asked about her. Jasmine said she told Esme you’d just been asked about her, and that’s when she gave her the earpiece.”

“But we didn’t—oh my god.”

“What?” Eva asked, voice desperate. “What did you say?”

“I’ll call you back.” I hung up and handed Wes his phone. Right after we’d declined to answer the question about Esme, the producer asked us about Daisy. The whole discussion of Esme took maybe ten seconds. And she would have heard us… fuck.

“Wes, where would she go?” I begged. “If she needed to not be with anyone at all, where would she hide?”

“Let me think about it for a second.”

The guys were staring at me, and I was glad it was pouring now so they couldn’t see the frustrated tears I couldn’t hold back.

“That was Eva,” I told them. “I know why she ran.”

Chapter 41

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

________

ESME

The cold water felt good on my skin. My muscles and lungs burned with the effort of running on soft earth and keeping myself upright.

My bag was slung across my chest and the sandals I’d worn were long behind me. I would rather run barefoot than slip around on those. This park was well maintained—I would be fine.

The only thing keeping me going was the burn. The pain I loathed was the only feeling which made sense. It was the only thing I would allow myself to feel. The physical pain was replacing the shredding happening in my chest. It was ripping me open, slowly.

My truth was burning me alive. Tied to the stake of my own naïve dreams.

I stumbled, slipping on the wet grass, and caught myself. “Fuck.”

It was truly pouring now, and I needed to turn around at some point and go home. I couldn’t stay out here forever, even if that seemed like the more appealing option at the moment.