B. C.

Before the Chaos.

My mother wasn’t trying to figure out how to end an affair.

She was trying to figure out how to end a play.

“Av?” Lex is standing behind me, looking over my shoulder. “You okay?” he whispers. But I can’t move. Or speak. “Av?” he says again.

“Willa Culver didn’t write this play,” I tell him. I’m thinking of that picture of my mother. Hunched over that laptop. Eyes on fire. And all the other B. C. notes in that blue notebook.

Love isn’t enough.

No promises.

Lonely. Secretive. Passionate.

And all the others.

They’re character notes. Plot notes.

Not love notes.

“What?” Lex whispers. “What are you talking about?” He clearly thinks I’ve lost my mind.

“My mother did.”

I push past Lex. I’m heading for the side exit.

As soon as I step away from the brightness of the stage, I’m aware of the fog rolling in to suffocate me. But I don’t care. I’m already moving through the dark toward the farmhouse. The fog is so thick now, but somehow I find the little path that leads into the woods, toward the Culver house. And when I look back at Whisper Cove, the lights of the amphitheater have vanished. All I see are empty houses. Dark and deserted. Dead. No smoke curls from the chimneys. No candles flicker in the windows.

Laundry flaps on the lines.

Vegetables rot in the gardens.

And then I’m climbing through the woods. Racing toward the kitchen door. Willa is at the amphitheater, I know. And Brody, too. Cole. All of them. But I only have a few minutes before they all discover that I’m missing and Midnight Music comes to a screeching halt.

The kitchen door isn’t locked. I knew it wouldn’t be. I push it open and hurry toward that little painting. The one of the muses. The girl with all the cracks.

The one who reminds me so much of myself.

I lift it from the wall and turn it over in my hands. And there’s an inscription on the back.

To Willa,

Thanks for encouraging me to write. You’ll always be my best friend and my greatest inspiration. Love you forever and ever!

Nicole

The painting clatters to the floor. And I’m already moving toward the living room. I scan the shelves for other clues. But something tells me to look upstairs. In Willa’s bedroom. If she’s hidden any other proof, I bet it will be there.

I climb the stairs and stand in the hallway. I don’t know which rooms are which. I don’t even know which one is Cole’s. I look down at the wood floor, and there’s a worn path in the middle. It runs from one end of the hallway to the other. Like someone has spent years and years pacing back and forth.