The Mistress

by SweetJane21

Former high school sweethearts Spencer and Toby reunite after 3 years apart, when Spencer is forced to return to her small town of Rosewood, Pennsylvania. But neither one can forget the deep, passionate first love they once shared. Unable to fight their feelings for each other anymore, Spencer and Toby begin a beautiful love affair despite all forces trying to tear them apart.

2. Chapter 2

2. Love Is a Losing Game

Spencer

"What kind of music do you listen to now?"

I smiled. "Classical."

I sat next to Toby inside his truck as he drove to The Radley, asking me questions about what I'd been up to for the last three years. It'd only been half an hour since leaving Charles' funeral, but we still had a lot to catch up on. Movies and food I liked, all the places I'd been, and the many places I wanted to go–especially Paris–if I liked hiking or camping, and books. Endless questions about books. He wanted to know what I missed most about Washington and how it felt to be back home.

Toby's mouth wriggled up at the corner. "I hadn't known you to be a fan of classical music."

I shrugged. "Things change."

His face turned grave, his eyes steady on me. "Yes, they do."

I was considering his words, when Toby abruptly reached over to flip open a compartment on my side and pulled out a CD that was stuffed into the small space along with his police badge, driver's registration card, tissues, and all his insurance papers.

I examined the familiar composer's name on the CD case and frowned. It was Mozart's greatest hits. Toby's truck was ancient; the only music you could play in it was the vintage radio.

But then I recognized the cover art and my insides glowed. It was the same music we used to listen to in his truck during our intense make out sessions.

"Is this…?" I trailed off.

"Yes," he replied, his eyes shining.

"I can't believe you kept it."

"I keep things that are important to me." Toby's eyes held mine steadily, and I felt a warm, giddy rush.

Even though it had been three years, it felt strange not being in his life. He was the one who'd ended it, but I couldn't stop thinking about him. About our future, what we could've had, and how sweet and caring he was towards me when we were together. But despite all that, things seemed to be going well with Toby and I. Neither of us had mentioned the breakup, and Toby seemed happy about reconnecting.

I looked out the passenger side window. We were in front of the hotel now. Toby turned his attention back to me as he found a parking space and cut the engine.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked.

"You know my favorite color," I responded simply.

"Still pink?"

I nodded.

"What's your favorite flower?" he fired off.

"Roses," I answered.

We sat in front of The Radley Hotel, talking for hours as the sky darkened. When he asked me what my favorite gemstone was, I'd thoughtlessly blurted out sapphire. That hadn't changed since I was sixteen, when Toby and I first started dating. It wasn't difficult, while staring into his impossibly blue eyes, to identify the reason behind my favorite gemstone.

I worried I'd revealed too much, that it had upset him. To my surprise, Toby just smiled and slowly reached out to brush my hair away from my face, seeming pleased by my answer.

It continued like that for hours, until the sun melted behind the clouds, and Toby ran out of questions for the day. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this happy, and it felt good to talk to him like this. At some point, though, I couldn't help but feel nervous that I was boring him. But Toby kept staring at me with interest, insisting on every detail of my life in D.C., and so I continued. Most of his questions were easy, but when he asked if I'd ever dated anyone back in Washington, a blush colored my cheeks a deep shade of red and I looked away.

"You can tell me," he said gently.

I shook my head, feeling too guilty to confide in him about my one-time fling with Chad Chambers, which had ultimately been a stupid, reckless mistake from my heartbreak with Toby.

"Please." Toby leveled his eyes with mine, using the power of his electric blue eyes that seemed to see right through me, trying to persuade me.

I sighed, surrendering. "I kind of dated this guy, Chad. He's the ambassador's son in Washington. But it didn't last long."

"What happened?" he asked.

"We just wanted different things," I answered honestly.

I looked out the window at the tall, stately building of The Radley, suddenly remembering my friends waiting for me inside. It was easy to forget the rest of the world when I was with Toby. I glanced at the little clock on the dashboard and gasped softly. Seven-thirty. "Is that the time?"

He looked surprised by how late it was. "Yeah. Do you need to go?"

"Yes. My friends are waiting for me."

As I unwillingly reached for the truck's door handle to get out, Toby gently touched my arm. "Spencer?"

I turned. He was leaning towards me now, his face only inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.

"I just need to know that you're okay," he said.

Toby looked so concerned that it turned my insides to goo.

My lips curved into a smile. "I'm okay." I was always okay when he was here.

His eyes lingered on my lips. "Good."

I paused. "I'm really glad that you're here." And this time when I said it, I actually meant it.

"Me, too." Toby smiled back at me. "Sleep tight tonight."

I felt my heart melt from his words. He was so sweet.

I smiled at him playfully. "Just so you know, tomorrow is my turn."

He frowned. "Your turn for what?"

"To ask the questions."

Then I stepped out of the truck and closed the door behind me. He waited until I was at the grand front doors of the hotel before pulling away, giving me a little wave as he drove down the street and disappeared around the corner. I waved back, feeling the burn of his absence. Being apart from him was even more painful now than it had been when I was living in D.C.

I smiled dumbly as I walked into the lobby, oblivious to the people moving past me to get to the bar. Toby wanted to see me tomorrow.

I finally spotted my friends in the lobby, sitting close together on the tufted couch. From the windows, I could see the pitch-dark sky outside and the glass dining tables were vacant. All the guests were sitting at the bar, drinking and laughing loudly. It was as if everyone was celebrating Charles' death in the wake of his funeral.

Hanna looked irritated as I approached. "Spencer, you're over an hour late. Where were you?"

"I, uh–I was with Toby," I stammered. "He dropped me off." I sat next to Emily on the couch. "So what is everyone talking about?"

"Charles," Jess responded dryly. "What else?"

"At least the nightmare is finally over," Emily said.

Hanna fiddled with her engagement ring. "And now A is out of our lives for good."

Aria looked at Hanna. "What did you tell Jordan?"

Hanna knitted her eyebrows together. "Tell him what?"

"This town, Charles, everything we went through."

"She means the things she can't Google," I translated.

"When I knew I was falling in love with him," Hanna answered.

"Hmm," Aria mused, "Liam and I aren't there yet, but…I know he's gonna have a lot of questions when I get back."

A miserable feeling swelled in my stomach. Normally I went to Toby whenever bad things like this happened, but we hadn't been that happy in a long time and I wondered if we ever would be. I bit down on my lip so hard that I drew blood, trying to compose myself so nobody could see me cry. Hearing Hanna and Aria talk about their love lives was more excruciating than I'd anticipated. And it was depressing to think that Toby and I weren't that close anymore. He was no longer my boyfriend and we weren't engaged. But I didn't want to talk about boyfriends; I wanted to think of how I was going to get my true love back.

"Are you sure you should leave tonight?" Emily asked Aria. "You know the cops wanna talk to us before we go."

"Yeah, I've already missed a few days of work," she replied. Right after we left the funeral, Aria told everyone she was flying back to Boston, saying her boss wanted her to return to work ASAP. But given the timing, I couldn't help but feel a little suspicious.

"We all have, Aria," Hanna pointed out. "We're staying."

"The buyers for my art collection are still upset I'm pushing back the date for the New York Art Series," Jess added.

"Okay, well, my boss asked me to come back," Aria said. "You guys, this wasn't an easy job to get. I can't lose it."

I drew my eyes down, understanding.

"They're gonna ask us questions about that night," Hanna went on.

Aria's expression remained eerily calm. "Yeah, we were all together and none of us left the hotel. What else is there to say?"

Just then, I saw a shock of blonde hair from the corner of my eye and I turned, noticing Sara standing at the check-out desk with her aide. She still had on her black funeral dress and dark red coat, and she wore a pair of black leather gloves to hide her burn scars.

"I think the person the cops should really be talking to is right over there." I nodded at Sara.

Everyone turned to where Sara was standing and cringed. The receptionist from behind the front desk said something to her, and Sara's aide jotted down her name in the guest book.

"Can she really not sign her own name?" I asked in disbelief.

Emily looked at Hanna. "I still haven't told anyone about what happened, have you?"

Hanna shook her head no.

"Do we really believe she doesn't remember?" Aria asked skeptically.

"I think she's lying," Hanna said. "Just like she lied about having Swedish Syndrome to get her sentence reduced."

"Stockholm Syndrome," I corrected. "And it is a real thing."

"She lied about being trapped inside the Dollhouse," Jess pointed out.

"She was never kidnapped, Spencer," Hanna said right after. "She was living out in the world. She chose to help Charles torture us."

"You know, the judge didn't see it that way," Aria told her.

"If Sara really was brainwashed she'd have a pretty strong motive to kill Charles," I said. "Revenge."

A long pause fell over the room, and Aria glanced down at her phone, her eyes widening. "Oh, I hate to break up this party, but I gotta get going." She rose from the couch.

I stood up. "I'll walk you to your car."

Aria looked at the other girls and I. "Okay, bye. I'll call you soon."

"Okay."

Jess leaned in to hug her. "Have a safe flight."

After Aria finished hugging everyone goodbye, she headed toward the hotel's front doors and I followed her. Before we could take two more steps, Aria got stopped by Hanna. There was a serious look on her face. Aria motioned for me to go ahead without her.

I nodded, despite my confusion, and pushed through the doors. Outside, the cold air bit at my cheeks. I gazed at the empty streets, watching as the cars whizzed by. Cafés and French bakeries stood clustered together on the next block over. Suddenly, I saw the most beautiful girl I had ever seen through the window of a restaurant called Brio, an Italian fusion restaurant. She exuded confidence and radiance with long, silky dark-brown hair that spilled over her shoulders, flawless and light mocha-colored skin, and a size-two body frame. Her white long-sleeved Marc Jacobs dress fit her body snugly, revealing every curve and how full her prominent chest was.

The girl's lips were pulled up at the corners into a dazzling smile, as if she was laughing at the funniest joke she'd ever heard. Sitting across the table from her was a tall, good-looking guy with strong cheekbones and dark-brown hair. And that wasn't the only thing that looked familiar about him.

There was a dimple in his chin, and when the guy's cheek lifted slightly as he smiled back at the girl, I caught a glimpse of his shining, deep blue eyes. Toby.

My heart plummeted all the way down to my feet. I stood there on the sidewalk, my legs growing hollow and weak, and the whole world around me spun. Toby was out on a date with another girl. And he'd probably walk her home and she'd invite him inside to do who knows what else. My stomach lurched into a nauseating pain as I imagined the two of them together.

Suddenly, a violent, burning hatred surged through me. I suddenly hated that mystery girl. I hated her for taking Toby away from me. My hands clenched into tight fists, my body slowly filling with unreasonable anger. I had to do something before I lost him.

When Aria walked down the front steps a minute later, her expression was furious, her hazel eyes livid.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

Aria turned to me, as if just noticing I was there. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just have to catch my flight."

I looked at her, not sure if I believed her. Immediately, Aria stepped toward me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. She was so tiny, I had to lean in to return her hug. My first thought was to say something meaningful, like I'd done a million times before when we'd bid goodbye, but right away I sensed something was wrong. Like she was hiding something. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe Aria's strange behavior was related to Charles' murder. Maybe she had other motives for rushing back to Boston so soon.

Then Aria pulled me in close, her short, dark strands falling across my face, the comfort of her scent making all my worries disappear. Maybe we were all grown up now, but she was still my best friend.

"I better get going," Aria finally said, pulling away.

"Call me when you land," I told her.

"I will," she said. She walked over to her car that was parked on the street, climbed in, and sped off into the night.

I watched her drive away, trying to ignore the suspicious, nagging feeling about my friend in the back of my mind.

An hour later, I walked into my parents' house to find my mother and Caleb leaning over a silver Mac laptop on the kitchen island. Caleb was typing furiously on the computer while Ms. Hastings stood behind him, her eyebrows knitted together in a deep V. Jess sat at the end of the island, frowning at her own laptop and cell phone in front of her. My mom had offered Jess a position on the campaign team as the poster designer a week before the campaign took off, worried that Christine Phillips would snatch her up first. Jess' artistic ability surpassed all the other artists in the state, and therefore was perfect for attracting more voters.

"Mom, Caleb just got here," I said. "Already you're putting him to work? What's wrong?"

Ms. Hastings looked up. "The news of Charles' death is spreading fast."

"Some bloggers are trying to link you and the girls to it," Caleb added.

I sighed. "Why am I not surprised?" Only Rosewood would exaggerate something as the death of the most hated guy in Rosewood, Charles DiLaurentis.

"I am," Veronica responded. "It's a disgusting thing to do. My opponent is running a dirty campaign."

"Well, how do you know that she'd behind this?" I asked.

"I'm trying to figure out where it's coming from," Caleb answered.

Jess looked up from her computer smugly. "I traced the user's location from the blog. It's coming somewhere from Rosewood." Jess and Caleb were both computer geniuses, and they were constantly competing against one another about who was better.

My mouth twitched. If my mom went through with this, the media would make a spectacle of my dark past with Rosewood.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "It's already out there. And it would be a mistake for me to go with you to your interview tomorrow."

A reporter from the Rosewood Observer newspaper was scheduled to interview my mom tomorrow on live TV, along with a big photo shoot. They wanted to do a full story about her campaign and the promises she was planning to make if she was elected State Senator. A stylist would be bringing a rack of designer clothes to the Philadelphia studio, and a hairdresser was going to style her hair and apply makeup to make her look refined and put-together.

My mother frowned. "Why?"

"Because I would just be a distraction," I explained.

Her eyes softened. "Honey, the Rosewood Observer has more class than to pay attention to a few tasteless tweets."

"Mom, I'm partially responsible for Charles getting out. On the night that he did, he was killed. So whichever way they spin it, his death and my association with it will come up and it's best if I'm not with you when it does."

I looked at Caleb, who was still busily working on the Hastings campaign website. At the funeral, after he had tried to grope me, Toby offered to drive me home instead, rebuffing Caleb's advances. I'd been trying to avoid Caleb ever since, but that was impossible with him living in my mother's barn. And I had nowhere else to go until the election was over. Fortunately, Jess was also staying in the barn. As long as I had her, I would be okay.

"Hey, I found a link to a blog that originated in Rosewood," Caleb announced. "It's been shared over four-hundred times."

My mother turned back to me. "Maybe it is best if you skipped this one."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"I'll call my team and see if they can get a handle on this."

I nodded. "Okay."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Frowning, I moved towards the double-paneled doors and opened it.

"Hey," Toby whispered. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, of course not." I stepped aside as he crossed the threshold. Toby was still wearing his long-sleeved navy blue shirt and dark khaki pants that he'd changed into for his date. His hair was messy and sexy, and a couple buttons of his shirt were undone. My breath caught in my throat just looking at him, and I wondered if he could hear my heartbeat.

Toby held up my black chic tote purse and handed it to me. "You left this in the truck."

I let out a breath of relief. "Oh, thank you. I completely forgot."

He glanced at my mom, Caleb, and Jess, suddenly aware that there were other people in the room with us. Veronica saw Toby and smiled warmly at him. "Hello, Toby. It's nice to see you again."

"Hi, Ms. Hastings," he answered politely, and smiled back.

"Will you be staying?" she asked.

"No, I just needed to talk to Spencer," he said.

Caleb narrowed his eyes at Toby suspiciously, making my stomach clench.

"Alright, well I'll let you two catch up," Ms. Hastings said, giving me a meaningful look. She winked at me, and I blushed.

After she left the room, Toby moved closer to me, keeping his eyes on my face, and all my fears and anxiety about the mystery girl melted away. "I wanted to ask you something."

I beamed. "What is it?"

"Well, I was wondering if you would meet me tomorrow at the house. I need some help cutting the wood and you're the only person I know who isn't afraid to use a power saw." He grinned at me, his eyes teasing.

I realized he was talking about the house he was building, so I nodded. "Of course," I answered automatically. I would have parked at junkyard with Toby if it meant I could be alone with him.

Toby smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Then he turned for the door and headed back out into the darkness outside. When he was gone, I walked over to Caleb and Jess at the table, but kept my distance, trying not to expose my bare back. I suddenly felt so self-conscious in my strapless black funeral dress and my exposed long legs.

"I am really afraid that she's gonna lose the election because of me," I stressed.

Caleb met my eyes. "Hey, don't say that. I'll hack into the voting machines and make sure that she wins."

"Caleb!" I cried, appalled.

His eyes flickered with amusement. "I'm kidding."

He started laughing, and I couldn't help laughing, too.

Caleb's face became more serious. "Look, they have four-hundred retweets. I will get 4,000 good ones by tomorrow morning."

"Thank you," I said gratefully. I looked at him, saw the genuine kindness and sympathy in his expression, and the edges around my heart began to thaw. Caleb could actually be kind of nice sometimes.

"Yeah." Caleb's eyes moved over my chest and hips appreciatively. I felt my cheeks grow hot, too stunned to say anything.

Caleb reached out to touch my arm, but I stepped away from him. I didn't want to be standing so close to him, talking to him and pretending everything was okay.

"Yes, we should all be proud," Jess said dryly, breaking the ice. "Maybe you can use your hacking skills to spy on Yvonne and get all the dirty details. Worked last time, didn't it?" She arched an eyebrow at him, indicating Caleb's past discretion with Toby's controlling step-sister, Jenna Marshall, when he'd used Hanna to find a flash drive for her. Ever since Jess found out the truth about Caleb, things hadn't been too warm and fuzzy between them.

In 11th grade, Jenna had given Caleb cash to spy on Hanna and the rest of us so she could get her hands on a flash drive that only Alison knew about. The night that we'd accidently blinded Jenna, Ali went to the Cavanaugh's shed and lit the firework, just before she saw Toby and Jenna inside. When Toby confronted Ali, she had threatened to expose his secret if he didn't keep quiet about Jenna's accident, not knowing what was really happening. By the next school year, Toby's parents sent him to a reform school in Maine. But in the months that followed, Ali came upon a flash drive containing one of the . Club's videos of Jenna touching Toby–the same flash drive that Jenna had hired Caleb to find. It made me shudder just to think about.

"What is your problem with me?" Caleb demanded.

"I don't work with people that I don't trust," Jess snapped.

"I never thought of you as being a team player," he shot back.

Jess glared at him. "Right, because you're such a shining example of that."

"Maybe if you hadn't been hiding money for Ali when she was running from A and hitching bus rides for her, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Bite me," she retorted. She drew the words out slowly to give to full effect of her venom.

My head started to ache from Jess and Caleb's Ping-Pong bickering. "Um, I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Jess looked up at me and smiled. "Night."

Caleb, on the other hand, went back to his computer, ignoring me completely.

I sighed and moved down the hall. My bedroom was the first door on the left. Past the bathroom on the opposite side of my room was Jess and Jason's bedroom. The door was open and the lights were switched off, and I could see Jason's sleeping form inside. I felt a sense of security knowing he was close by.

Feeling dazed, I walked inside my bedroom and shut the door behind me, making sure to lock it this time, and changed out of my dress into Toby's long-sleeved, grey anchor shirt that he'd given to me when we were dating, and a pair of pastel-blue cheeky panties. Purple satin curtains framed the big bay window that looked out into my mother's garden. I yanked the curtains closed and double-checked the lock on the window, feeling paranoid that someone was watching me last night.

I looked around the room. Since I'd renovated the barn seven years ago, it had lost its dusty and mossy smell, and the floorboards no longer creaked when you walked. The white-wooden vanity table was pushed against the wall, and the thonet bentwood rocking chair–which Toby had made for me from his own hands–sat by the window. An oak dresser faced the bed on the south side of the room. I'd styled the bedroom to my taste, not knowing Melissa would steal it five seconds after I had redecorated it.

Four small, artistic black-and-white framed photographs lined the wall over my bed and the painting that Toby had painted of the two of us still hung on the left wall. We were snuggled together in bed of my old room and the covers fell to our middle stomachs, and the light blue-grey comforter hid my face. I was lying on my right side with Toby's arm draped around me from behind, holding me as we slept. Toby had done the painting in contrasts of dark and light, emphasizing my pale skin and brown hair. I touched Toby's face in the picture, tracing my fingers over his strong cheekbones and dark wavy hair, and closed my eyes. I'd put the painting up in the barn when Toby had first given it to me during my first year of college, a memento of our relationship. We had plans of living in the barn until Toby could find a place in Rosewood to build our dream house. Those dreams seemed so far away now.

Feeling my chest aching, I decided it was time to turn in for the night. I crawled into bed and pulled the comforter up to my chin, adding another pillow for comfort. When I did eventually fall asleep, I dreamt of nothing but Toby, trying to keep my dreams of him and true love stay alive for a little bit longer.

In my dream, I was lying in a very white room on a queen-size bed, surrounded by several fluffy, cloud-like pillows. I was naked except for a tiny, black lacy thong that rested precariously below my hips. Toby hovered over me, his blue eyes filling heavily with desire. My heart pounded.

"I want you so much," I whispered. I entwined my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me.

Toby pressed his mouth against mine in response, our bodies melting together. He stroked his hand along my hip, gliding it up in between my bare breasts.

His lips brushed against my ear. "Tell me when I should stop."

I stared into his eyes. "Don't ever stop."

He dipped his head down and kissed my neck with passionate lips in response, moving lower and lower. My fingers fumbled at the buttons on his jeans, tugging them off. Heat flooded my pelvis. Toby released a deep, guttural moan as I slid my hands up his bare, muscular chest, feeling the strength there. Aroused, he hooked his finger underneath the string band of my thong and slowly peeled it off, easing them over my hips and legs. My lips parted in a throaty moan.

Toby roamed his eyes over my naked body lustfully. "Oh, Spencer," he moaned. "You're so perfect."

In the next instant, he lifted up my foot and started trailing kisses there, moving up my leg to my thigh. My lower belly coiled with need, and my breaths came out in heavy pants. When he reached further north, he bent back my knee and parted his lips over my inner thigh, sucking deeply. I couldn't control the wetness that quivered rapidly inside of me.

And then I felt him in there, pushing his tongue gently, but deeply inside me. I wrapped my legs tightly around Toby's head, urging him on. Waves of pleasure cascaded through my entire body, and I could feel the sweat gathering at my navel and lower back.

I parted my legs wide for him, allowing him to taste me. Toby swirled his tongue around inside, stroking every surface smoothly. I whimpered. He sucked on my hips next, licking along my lower navel. He kissed every inch of my skin, bringing my body back to life.

I reached underneath the fabric of his boxers and eased them off. Toby groaned and our limbs entangled around each other, kissing deeply. I tangled my hands through his hair wildly as our lips continued to make hot, wet smacking and slurping sounds. Muscles rippled along his muscular back as he struggled to restrain himself on top of me.

"Don't hold back," I whispered.

Toby pulled back slightly to look at me, gazing deeply into my eyes. "I love you," he breathed.

I stroked his cheeks tenderly, keeping my face close to his. "I love you, too," I whispered back, and molded my lips back to his.

Toby pressed his body against mine, and he was inside me. I squeezed my naked legs around his hips and clung onto him as he thrusted hard and swiftly against me.

We were going so hard and fast that the bed started squeaking and shaking with our movements. I moaned loudly. "Oh, God!"

Toby rubbed me against the mattress, keeping his arm around my lower waist gently so he wouldn't hurt me. I kissed his shoulder, stroking his hair while he sucked on my neck amidst wild gasps.

As I reached my climax, I dug my nails hard into his back and screamed out his name with pleasure. I felt him harden inside me, giving into my orgasm, and I pushed back into his erection. Toby groaned. I couldn't remember a time when I'd felt this pleasured and wanted in my entire life.

If this was what sinning felt like, I didn't ever want to go to Heaven.

We came back up again, our lips parting closely in wild gasps. I smashed my lips back to his hotly and twisted my legs around the middle of his back. The taste of him sent my blood on fire. I moaned, clutched his butt in my hands, and our limbs connected, going on and on…

My eyes snapped open. I sat up slowly in bed, clutching the sheets to myself, waiting for my racing heartbeat to slow. I was panting hard, hot and sweaty from my erotic dream. It felt like my whole body was buzzing.

I looked around me. I was in my bedroom, still wearing Toby's shirt and my underwear from the night before. Sunlight filtered in through the window, and the pale pinkish-purple sky outside cast a golden glow onto the soft carpeted floor. Only, Toby wasn't lying next to me. It was just a dream. It had felt so real.

I gasped aloud now, gripped with the harsh reality. The dream wasn't real. It was all part of my imagination. To my bewilderment, tears prickled at my eyes and slid down my cheeks. I couldn't get ahold of the overpowering grief that consumed me, sending my heart crashing into my chest. I wanted so badly for the dream to be real.

I put my face in my hands, my voice breaking into a torrent of sobs. Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated on my nightstand and I picked it up. Toby's picture appeared on the screen.

I slid my finger across the touchscreen to unlock the phone and pressed it to my ear. "Hey," I mumbled sleepily.

"Hey, you." Toby paused. "Did I wake you?"

"Not at all," I answered. "I just woke up. What's up?"

"I got the supplies for the wiring and I thought we could start working on the house now." He sounded cheerful on the other end.

I smiled. "Sounds good. I'll get ready and meet you there."

I hung up, got up from bed, and padded out into the hall to take a quick shower. I scrubbed my vanilla-scented shampoo into my hair and rinsed my body. The hot water against my skin calmed my nerves, loosening the tense muscles in my lower belly. I raised my face up to the steaming spray of the shower, trying not to think of Toby and the blissful dream I had of him.

I stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel. Then I changed into a pair of black jeans that hung low on my hips and a sheer-white blouse, undoing the first few buttons on the front, and rushed out the door, not even bothering to acknowledge Jess or Caleb on my way out.

I quickly drove to Toby's, passing the Rosewood Mall, Leon's Cupcakes, the supermarket, and the Apple Rose Grille. The morning sky was clear and sunny today, making the colorful autumn leaves of the trees look cheerful and lively. Everything was green here: acres of family-run farms filled with rich green grass, the tree trunks covered with moss, their branches twisting with long vines of ivy.

I took a right turn, rolling onto the bumpy dirt path. I drove through the twisting, winding pathway leading to Toby's trailer. Finally, I pulled up onto another dirt road and drove through the familiar break in the trees. The single-wide, grey metal trailer loomed ahead of me. It was plain and modest, yet clean and well-kept, and a tarp was strung up between some trees, which I imagined that Toby used to do push-ups on the branches. I parked underneath the weeping willow tree just like I did a couple days ago, stepped out, and made my way towards the tall, four-sided structural frames of the construction site.

Toby stood a few feet away in a white T-shirt and a pair of blue-gray jeans that hung low on his hips, chopping up some wood on a tree stump. His brown, laced-up steel toe boots were smudged with dirt and his brown hair was a mess around his face, but I couldn't remember him looking sexier.

He looked up, suddenly noticing my presence, and smiled widely. "Hey, you made it."

"Yeah." Take off your clothes, please. Delightful shivers slithered down my back and arms.

I wanted to put my hands on him, to touch the strength of his chest and abs, to feel the irresistible heat that would burn between us.

Toby set the axe down in the center of the stump and walked over to me. When he wrapped his arms around me, I could feel his sweat dampening my blouse and I had to control the quivering in my legs.

Toby pressed his nose into my neck. "Mmm, I missed you."

I giggled, holding onto him. "You saw me last night."

"Too long," he sighed.

I closed my eyes and buried my face into his chest, wishing the moment would last longer. When we finally pulled away from each other, Toby lingered his hands at my hips, slowly moving to the buttons on my jeans. My heart pounded. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

He stared longingly into my eyes and then reached out his hand to stroke my cheek in small, gentle circles. I kept my eyes down, not trusting myself to be this close to him.

"So where do we start?" I heard myself ask.

Toby's hand fell away from my face, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He gestured toward the stacks of plywood by the house. "I thought we could start by cutting wood for the wall frames first. You saw, I'll axe."

I grinned. "Deal."

Once Toby had everything laid out on top of the worktable next to his toolbox, he showed me the length of measurements that the wall frames needed to be for the house and then handed me a power saw. We went right to work, sawing and axing at the planks of wood while we talked and laughed. I watched Toby's hands, mesmerized by the skillful way he performed the simple tasks with such ease and precision. When he nailed a door frame together with a hammer, his face looked calm and relaxed. Building things seemed to soothe him.

Then I remembered who he was building the house for, making a familiar and numb, dull ache slowly spread throughout my chest, ripping the hole wide open. The girl I'd seen Toby with last night came into clear, anguishing focus, and the gash around the edges of the hole deepened. She was a more beautiful, perfect version of me. Toby had finally found someone who he could spend the rest of his life with. I moved my eyes along the edge of the forest that surrounded us, trying to distract myself from the pain.

As I cut the wood, Toby got started on nailing together the first wall frame, the sunlight gleaming through the soft waves of his brown hair. He stopped to pull his shirt over his head, and I could see the hem of his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs peeking out from underneath his jeans. My lips fell open and suddenly I couldn't feel my legs.

Oh, boy. I'm in trouble.

The muscles of his body, hard as iron, dripped with sweat, lodging along his chest and muscular abs. Thousands of butterflies fluttered around in my stomach. I couldn't look away from Toby's bulging biceps, his flexing arms as he worked, or the maze of carved muscle that reached his sternum all the way down to his abdomen. He looked even better than I remembered.

After a minute, Toby set down his axe into the tree stump again and reached down to unzip his camping bag, pulling out a slender stainless steel thermos and two small tin cups. "Do you want some coffee? I made it just how you like it."

I smiled, touched that he still remembered such small details about me. "I'd love some."

Toby poured the dark liquid from the thermos into the cup and handed it to me.

"Thanks," I said. His fingers brushed over mine as I took the cup and a jolt of electricity charged through us like a battery, shocking me awake.

I tore my eyes away from him, drinking my coffee instead. It was incredibly strong and delicious. "Do you still go camping with Caleb?"

Toby shrugged. "Only occasionally." He took out a red plaid picnic blanket from his bag and spread it over the ground before sitting down. I sat beside him tentatively, wondering where this was all going.

"Must be nice," I said. "To be out in the wilderness alone, without any noises or distractions. I wish I had that."

His eyes bored into mine. "I could take you sometime."

I lifted my face up to his, feeling delicious warmth swirling through my body. "I don't know," I heard myself say. "I have to be here with my mom for her campaign."

Toby leaned in closer to me, making my heart speed up. "Say yes."

I returned his steady gaze. "Okay."

Wordlessly, Toby pressed his lips against my forehead and I closed my eyes. I shifted away from him slightly as the fresh aroma of coffee filled my nose. I lifted the cup to my lips and took a large gulp of my espresso.

Toby touched his lips to the edge of his own cup and took a sip, trying to hide his smirk.

I examined his face. "What?"

"You're the only person I know who can drink four cups of coffee every day."

I glared at him, resisting the urge to smack him. "I don't drink that much coffee."

Toby snorted. "Sure."

I paused. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I wanted you to see what I was working on," he answered. "This is where we were supposed to start a family."

It felt like Toby had punched me in the chest. How long was I going to keep being reminded of my horrible mistake? Maybe he would never forgive me. Maybe some wounds cut too deep. And I'd hurt him so badly. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't want to give me a second chance.

"It sure is beautiful." I gazed up sadly at the tall, wooden-structured house. It made me feel even more regretful of letting him go all those years ago and not supporting him or his job, including his passion for carpentry. I'd gotten so lost when I was in college that I forgot what I did have, and had inadvertently driven Toby away, too.

"It's not finished," he said quietly.

I peeked a look at him. "So are you ever going to tell me who this mystery girl is?"

Toby frowned. "What girl?"

"The one you're building the house for," I hinted playfully, but my heart was aching.

An elusive smile played on Toby's lips. "The house isn't for a person. It's more like an idea. An unattainable idea." His mouth suddenly turned grim.

"You know, most people don't build houses by themselves," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm not most people." When he looked at me, his somber expression lightened and those beautiful blue eyes of his sparkled.

I felt myself sparkling back at him. "I figured that out from day one."

It was true. Toby wasn't like any of the other guys I'd dated. And he was so different from anyone I had ever met.

Just then, a light breeze ruffled Toby's hair and he tilted his face up to the vast blue sky overhead, the sunlight shining in his hair. I studied his features, wanting more than anything to trace the shape of his full lips with my fingertips, to feel them part beneath my touch. I could still hear his words from my dream ringing in my ears. I love you.

Was he still in love with me? Did I want him to be?

"You should stay away from me," he murmured bleakly.

Agony punctured my entire body at his words in a helpless despair. Was this because the house reminded him too much of the future we were supposed to have together? Or was he just scared that I would push him away again, like before? I considered for a moment what Toby was saying and what it meant. I could try to do the right thing and stay away from him to ensure neither of us got hurt. To stop seeing Toby, to ignore him and lock away my feelings for him. To tell him to leave me alone–and mean it. But I could never lose my feelings for Toby–I was too in love with him. To never be with him would be like cutting off all my oxygen.

"And what if I don't want to?" I challenged evenly.

"I'm not good for you, Spencer."

His words cut me. "I don't care," I insisted. "It's too late."

"This is wrong." Toby looked at me with a pained expression and it seemed like he was struggling with some sort of dilemma.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you."

A sob caught in my throat. I gazed at the soft waves of his hair, the sweet smile that seemed to always be present on his lips whenever he was near me. How could I not be in love with this man?

"Then don't," I whispered.

Toby brushed his fingers along my cheekbone, seeming to lose himself in my eyes. I closed my eyes and sighed, leaning my cheek into the palm of his hand. I'd missed the way he touched me.

He plucked a small purple wildflower from the ground and tucked it behind my ear. "For you. Always my girl." His blue eyes darkened with emotion as they bored into mine.

I flushed. His eyes stayed on my face even as I looked away and hugged my knees to my chest. The early morning sun peeked out from beneath the moving clouds overhead, casting a golden-yellow glow along a large patch of green grass nearby.

Toby put a finger underneath my chin and turned my face towards him, forcing me to look at him. "What's wrong?"

He caressed my cheek softly, turning my insides to goo. "Nothing," I breathed. "Everything is perfect."

Toby leaned back on the blanket, stretching out on the ground. He was still shirtless, the sweat bulging deliciously in the muscles of his taut stomach. When my wandering eyes met his, he extended an arm out towards me, gesturing for me to lie down with him.

I snuggled against his chest and sighed. "It should always be like this."

Toby brushed his lips against my hair and breathed it in. "I've missed your smell." He ran his hand up and down my arm gently.

My heart thrummed with happiness. I felt so safe and relaxed that I found my eyelids starting to grow heavy, until finally I drifted off to sleep in Toby's arms.

Jess

Wednesday morning, I watched the sun rise up from behind the clouds and paint the sky a pinkish-pale orange from the windshield of my car. My mom had called me this morning to invite me over for breakfast, saying she had some exciting news to tell me. I hated surprises, so I could only imagine what this big news was. Aliens were most likely taking over the earth, or Rosewood was going to implode. Either way, whatever my mom was about to tell me couldn't be good. Our family had the worst track record of any good anything.

I stepped out of my red Honda Civic and walked along the stone-paved pathway leading up to the front steps of my mother's new house. The light grey stone brick craftsman-style mansion in Philadelphia, two towns away from Rosewood, stood before me. The long, T-shaped house was two stories high, had six bedrooms, with some maple trees bordering the edge, one of which had a swing tethered to the limb by a sturdy-looking rope in the spacious front yard. White columns supported the front porch, a built-in gazebo sat at the end of the property to the left, and rows of flowerbeds and shrubs surrounded all sides of the house. For such a massive and luxurious home, it seemed a little extreme for just two people–my mom and my biological father, Gabe. Then again, it was fitting for a detective at the head of the Philadelphia State Police Department and his wife.

When I rang the doorbell, my mom flung the door open immediately. She was dressed in a silk purple blouse, a black pencil skirt that showed off her long, slender, olive-toned legs, and kitten-toed heels. Her skin glowed radiantly and she seemed to have put on a little weight, but I couldn't be sure.

"Jess!" my mother cried. "You're here." She wrapped me into a hug, holding me tight.

I squeezed her back, seeking comfort in her warm embrace. "Yeah, I'm back."

My mom grinned. "This last year has been crazy. A lot's happened."

"I know," I said. "I have so much to tell you."

She took my hand, leading me into the house. "Tell me all about it."

Inside, the grand hallway yawned in front of me, which was adorned with silver-framed photographs of Gabe and my mother's wedding four summers ago. My eyes fell on a picture of myself dressed in a shell-pink strapless bridesmaid gown standing next to my mother who wore a beautiful, trumpet-mermaid V-neck satin dress that clinched at the waist with embroidered crystals and a fit and flare ruffled train. Another picture showed Gabe and my mom standing at the alter together when they made their wedding vows. It had been the fairytale wedding.

My father, Gabe, was sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of scrambled eggs and toasted bread in front of him. His dark wavy hair was combed back, and his silver Rolex watch glinted in the morning sun. He wore a clean white button-down shirt, dark pants, and polished shoes.

Gabe brightened when he saw me come in. "Hey, sweetheart."

I smiled. Ever since my parents had gotten married, my life had fallen into place. My abusive step-father and Jonny Raymond were behind bars, A was gone for good, and I had my best friends back. Nothing could ruin my happiness now.

I leaned in to hug him. "Hi, dad."

My mom strode into the room after me and walked over to the massive stainless-steel fridge. "We have coffee, orange juice, tea," she offered.

I tilted my head, confused. Since when did my mother approve of my coffee-drinking habit? She got up every morning at five a.m. sharp to do her daily yoga ritual and stayed strictly to herbal teas–she insisted that coffee was going to kill me someday. I couldn't remember the last time my mother had offered me coffee. "Um, coffee," I sounded out slowly.

I glanced at Gabe, hoping he might give me some insight for mom's strange behavior. He didn't. Instead, he reached over to pour himself a glass of orange juice from a pitcher sitting in the middle of the table and continued reading the Rosewood Observer, completely oblivious. The walkie-talkie on my dad's belt cackled, but he made no move to answer it. My mom was bustling around the kitchen, turning on the waffle maker, mixing batter and blueberries into a bowl, and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. Within seconds, she set down a steaming cup of coffee in front of me.

I looked between both my parents, feeling weirded out. What was next? Speaking in synchronized sentences? Matching their clothes accordingly?

When my dad caught my inquisitive stare, his eyes darted from me to my mom. "What?"

I sighed. "Seriously? If I wanted to join the Brady Bunch, I would turn on the TV."

He seemed confused. "What are you talking about?"

"This," I said, gesturing between him and my mom. "You and mom acting like Parents of the Year."

My mom glanced up, but she continued cooking. I swiveled my gaze to her, exasperated. "Would you just stop for a second?"

Finally, my mom stopped what she was doing and turned to face me. "Do you want breakfast? I'm making blueberry waffles, your favorite."

"No, I don't want waffles," I said, feeling my irritation rising. "I want you to tell me what the hell is going on."

Gabe folded up the newspaper and cleared his throat. "There's a reason your mom and I called you over here today. There's something that we've been meaning to talk to you about." He exchanged a look with my mom.

All the blood drained away from my face. Oh, God. They knew what I did the night Charles was murdered and they were going to ship me off to a reform school for the criminally insane. Or worse: have me committed in an asylum somewhere in Alaska.

My mom moved over to my dad and took his hand. "We're having a baby."

A huge feeling of relief washed through my body. "What?" I blurted.

Gabe smiled. "We wanted to be sure before we told you."

I was speechless. "Wow. That's…great."

I fidgeted with the Claddagh ring Jason had given me just a couple days ago. There was no way I could tell my dad what had happened with Charles, despite the lengths he'd gone to protect me from A in the past. He was the head detective on the Philadelphia State Police Department and anything I told him would put his job in jeopardy. As scared as I was, I couldn't let him risk that for me. I kept telling myself that what I'd done to Charles was to protect Ali. Charles was A, the mastermind behind the Game and who was hell-bent on destroying me and my best friends' lives. But it didn't really matter whether I was guilty or not, I was there. I'd seen it. And who knew who else saw it, too.

Suddenly, Gabe's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it. "Detective Holbrook." His face fell gravely serious as he listened, then nodded. "Okay. I'll be right there."

Gabe ended the call and turned to me, his eyes apologetic. "I have to get to the station."

My mother frowned. "Why? What happened?"

"You know I can't talk about my cases," he said, rising from the table. "I'll call you as soon as I can." He kissed my mother and then leaned down to kiss my forehead.

Then he grabbed his keys and jacket and left through the front door.

A hot, sick feeling washed over me. My father was leading the case in Charles' murder investigation. A phone call from the station could mean only one thing.

It would've been comforting to be able to talk to someone about this who knew what I'd done and understood, but for now I needed to handle this on my own. No one could know that I was the last person to see Charles alive. It was a secret only my best friend, Josh, knew and one I intended to bury to the grave.

Toby

My eyes slowly fluttered open as I woke up on the forest floor of my fleece picnic blanket, with Spencer sleeping against my bare chest. The afternoon sunlight filtered in through the large maze of trees, casting a soft golden tone that spilled onto the ground in a burst of prism-tinged sparkles. I looked at Spencer nestled in my arms, who was still sleeping, her forehead and lips relaxed. We must have fallen asleep sometime between working on the house and talking about our relationship. Spencer used to sleep in my arms all the time when we were dating–especially when we'd sit together in the rocking chair I built for her by the window.

A surge of shame washed over me as I remembered the promise I made to someone else. It suddenly occurred to me to feel guilty, but I couldn't bring myself to. Because being with Spencer felt so right.

Spencer began to stir and her lips pulled up at the corners into a demure smile as she opened her big, beautiful brown eyes. "Hi," she whispered.

"Hi," I whispered back. I brushed her hair out of her eyes and pressed my lips to her forehead, and I felt a huge, relieved rush. Everything was perfect.

Spencer kissed my cheek, making me flush. "Thank you for the nap. I needed it."

The feeling of her lips lingered on my cheek. She sat up slowly and moved closer to me, but I hung back. I could hear my father's voice ringing in my ears: You have a responsibility to this family, Toby. If you don't marry that girl, I will disown you. No money, no truck. Nothing.

Spencer frowned. "What's wrong?"

I took her hand. "There is something complicated that I have to deal with, but I want you so much and it's not easy."

She squeezed my hand. "I'm here for you."

I smiled at her. "I know." I lifted her hand up to my lips and kissed it.

Spencer blushed, coloring her cheeks a lovely shade of pink, and it made me fall even more in love with her. Her sweet, delicious scent wafted in my face, tempting me to kiss her. Unthinkingly, I leaned closer.

I will disown you.

Abruptly, I turned my eyes back to the edge of the forest that surrounded us, thinking about the new woman in my life. "So, it's crazy what happened to Charles," I said lightly.

Spencer blinked. "Um, yeah."

"Makes you think about things that are really important to you." I brushed off some imaginary lint on my jeans and stood up. "We should get back to work."

Spencer nodded. "Okay."

"Besides, if I keep you here any longer, your mom will think I fed you to the bears." I gave her a teasing smile.

She smiled back, but it didn't touch her eyes. Her expression was somber; it was the same look Spencer had when she broke up with me the first time inside my truck, when A had threatened to kill me if she didn't end things with us. It killed me to see her like this, and I instantly regretted pulling away.

I extended my hand out to her. "C'mon. I'll show you how to use a power drill."

We spent the next few minutes nailing the door frames together, with me standing behind Spencer while I helped her learn how to use a power drill, guiding her. When I was sure she could handle it by herself, I went inside the unfinished house and got to work on the wiring and plumbing. As I cut and connected the pipes into the walls, I glanced over at Spencer and smiled to myself, reveling in the two of us working together, building a future. It felt like the start of something bigger.

Soon, the bright, hot sun started beating down on us, and before I knew it, we were both sweating from the blistering heat. Sweat beaded at Spencer's forehead and her shoulders, and it had soaked through her shirt.

"It's so hot out," Spencer groaned.

Slowly, she unbuttoned her blouse. I watched lustfully as Spencer peeled it off, revealing a very lacy shell-pink bralette. She stood in only a bra and jeans now. Sweat glistened along her breasts and lower back as she worked, gathering at the middle of her belly and lodging in places that made my pelvis throb. Spencer's bra was pressed tightly against her breasts, wet from all the sweat, and I could see her nipples hardening. I badly wanted to lick them. She was so sexy that I wanted to take her right here and now. And I hoped maybe she'd take off her jeans too, imagining what her panties looked like underneath…

I shook my head, trying to erase such dirty thoughts.

More sweat dripped in between Spencer's wet breasts, sliding down to her lower navel. My heart pounded, and I felt my member growing hard with arousal. A hot sensation rippled through my body; I couldn't control myself when I was around Spencer.

Spencer turned to me and smiled. I quickly composed myself as best as I could.

Suddenly, her cell phone buzzed. She picked up her bag off the ground and rummaged through it until she found her iPhone.

"Hello?" she answered. Spencer pulled the phone slightly away from her ear when someone's voice on the other end made a loud shrieking noise. "Jess, calm down. I'm going."

Spencer shut off her phone and looked at me apologetically. "I have to go."

I knitted my eyebrows together in concern. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," she said, but she wouldn't look me in the eye. "Something just came up." Spencer hurriedly buttoned up her shirt and slung her bag onto her shoulder. "I'll call you."

"Bye," I whispered sadly, trying not to feel disappointed.

Suddenly, my cell phone rang, too. I groaned when I saw who it was. "Hey."

"Where are you?" her voice shrieked on the other end. "You were supposed to pick me up fifteen minutes ago."

I picked up my pocket watch from the worktable and looked at the time. The arms ticking on the vintage clock read 2:30 P.M. The gala for the senator campaign was tonight. I'd been so wrapped up in Spencer that I'd forgotten.

"I'm on my way." I glanced at Spencer, who was still standing there, hesitant to leave.

"You know how important this gala is to me. My mom is trying to get more voters for her campaign against Veronica Hastings."

I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers, letting out a long sigh. "I know, I know. I'm sorry." Spencer caught my eye and her face fell.

My heart pounded thunderously. It felt like I was treading through treacherous water and there was no way out. Spencer knew me–she'd know if I were seeing someone.

"I'll make it up to you," I said, facing away from Spencer.

"Whatever," she snapped.

Then I hung up, my mind spinning in a million different directions. When I turned back, Spencer was already gone.

Spencer

After driving back from Toby's twenty minutes later, I pushed through the double doors of the barn and found Jess, Hanna and Ali gathered around the low wooden coffee table in the living room, who were sitting on the French beige-colored armchairs and matching pleated couch. "I'm so sorry, Ali," Jess whispered to Ali. "Did you have any idea at all?"

Ali shook her head. "No."

While Toby and I were working on building his house, Jess had called and arranged for everyone to meet at the barn to discuss Charles; the case was rapidly heating up. But now that there was clear evidence that his 'suicide' was faked, it was only a matter of time before the police connected us to Charles' murder. And it didn't help that we'd been suspected of murder in the past.

I sat next to Alison on the couch and pursed my lips. "The flower was placed in his hand to make it look like a suicide," I explained.

Not long after Toby and I had broken up, I'd thrown myself into my college studies. And for criminology class during my sophomore year at Georgetown, everyone had to find case studies of unique murders from the 20th Century to identify why they weren't solved. I'd written my essay about a man who murdered his wife on their wedding night and made it look like a suicide. As I did the necessary research for the essay, it was easy for me to relate to the woman's death because of how broken I felt about Toby, so I used it for the assignment. He'd pushed his wife out the five-story window and placed a bridal bouquet in her hand, and then moved her body lying facedown. Later on, the police discovered that the woman's neck had already been broken before she fell. The husband was arrested ten years later.

Ali's face contorted with anguish. "Who would do something like this?"

"Sara Harvey," Hanna answered.

"Well, the police can't see how she could push somebody off a building when she can barely hold a fork."

Hanna didn't look convinced. "Maybe she's lying about that."

"Or maybe she had help," I offered.

"My dad got a call from the police station this morning," Jess piped up. "It sounded important, but he wouldn't say what."

Fear prickled on the back of my neck. "Do you think it has to do with…Charles?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. "But we have to find out what it is before the police come knocking on our door next."

"Either way, they took Sara off the suspect list." Alison's blue eyes were tight. "Aria left town quickly."

"She had to go back to work," I told her.

"Well, she was still angry with Charles," she pointed out.

"And we all know Aria would do anything to nail A," Jess added. "She lied to the police about Andrew Campbell kidnapping us, remember?"

"She wasn't angry," I said, quickly jumping to Aria's defense. "She was scared. And she said everything she could on that stand."

Ali didn't speak for a minute. "I saw her dad this morning. He said that she had left town one day earlier than planned."

A long pause filled the room, and we all glanced at each other warily. The more the silence dragged on, the more uncomfortable I felt. Could Aria really have had something to do with Charles' death? Chills slithered down my spine. But she wasn't the murdering type. Aria was tough, but she was the kindest, most thoughtful person on the planet. There was no way she'd be capable of killing Charles.

After a moment, Ali composed herself, straightened, and turned to all of us. "I was hoping you guys would come over for dinner tonight. Emily, Caleb. Jordan, too. I invited Jason as well. I could really use the company. It's been really lonely in that house." A sad and pained expression on her face made her look so vulnerable, which was very unlike Ali.

For as long as I'd known her, Alison always tried to appear strong and perfect for everyone else, but I could tell it was just a façade. Underneath she was falling apart. And I couldn't help but feel for her.

"Sure," I agreed.

Jess frowned. "What about Toby?"

Ali flinched as if Jess had slapped her. "What about him?"

"You only said Caleb, Jordan and Jason. Why isn't Toby allowed to come? You don't even like Caleb and you're inviting him into your home."

Ali narrowed her eyes at her. "Fine, if you want Toby to come, invite him."

"I will," Jess replied curtly.

"I think Toby already has plans," I piped up.

"Then he'll cancel them," Jess said, turning to me. "This is important."

It made me uncomfortable that Jess was insisting on Toby coming to dinner, like she felt he needed to be included. It was bad enough that I constantly thought about him, but to actually have him here, talking about his new life and how happy he was with his new girlfriend, was torture.

"What should we bring?" Hanna asked Ali.

Ali gave her a small smile. "Casserole."

"The police think that the murders were premeditated," I was telling Caleb later that afternoon. "That's why they were looking at us."

We were standing in the kitchen of the barn, with Caleb grabbing an apple from the massive double-door refrigerator while I sat in front of my laptop at the counter island. All day, I couldn't stop thinking about my old college paper, like whoever had faked Charles' suicide was trying to set me up. It couldn't be a coincidence that someone had killed Charles the same way as the murdered bride from my essay.

Caleb sat next to me at the island. "Alright, let them look. They'll see that you put what happened behind you and you've moved on."

"You know it hasn't been easy," I reminded him.

"Going to therapy isn't a strike against you," he tried to assure me. "You had a lot to overcome."

"I'm still overcoming it."

After the ordeal with Charles five years ago, my mother thought it would be best if I got professional help–a therapist to be exact. So she booked Dr. Reynolds, the number one best behavioral counselor in Washington D.C. I'd been seeing her for the last three years, with most of our therapy sessions revolving around my falling out with Toby and letting go of the many horrible things that had happened to me since Charles started torturing me and my friends. Though I suspected my therapy also had to do with sorting through my feelings of my devastating breakup with Toby, many of which was too heartbreaking to talk about. I was still trying to deal with it all, but it hadn't been easy. If it weren't for Caleb, I'd still be an emotional wreak.

During my first few appointments to see Dr. Reynolds, I came in wasted and crying hysterically. She said I was one of the saddest patients she'd ever seen. I'd called Caleb right after, confiding in him about how broken I felt. And before I knew it, everything else just came pouring out: my late-night hangovers, the trouble I was having with keeping my grades up in school, my nightmares about Charles, and my breakup with Toby and how he'd rejected me. I worried that Caleb would judge me, but he'd sweetly told me that I wasn't a bad person and that he understood what it was like to do things he wasn't proud of. He talked to me all night until I finally stopped crying. From then on, Caleb became me go-to for advice and a shoulder to cry on whenever I was feeling lost or upset. There were times when I longed to call Toby and tell him about all of it, but every time I picked up the phone, I hung up, too ashamed of myself to say the words out loud. And besides, Toby hadn't been there for me in a long time, and Caleb was the best friend a girl could ask for.

"It's not gonna make anybody think that you're capable of murder," Caleb said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"No, this might." I turned the computer towards him, showing him the document of my criminology essay. It glowed like a neon sign on the screen.

Caleb's eyebrows furrowed. "What's this?"

"It's the paper of my sophomore year at Georgetown," I answered. "Each of us had to do a case on a study of a unique murder, and I did mine on a woman who was killed on her wedding night. Did you know that it's human instinct to go head first when you leap to your death?"

"No," he admitted.

"Well, it is," I said. "And later on, they discovered that her neck was broken before she fell. She was found holding her bridal bouquet and her fingers were wiped clean."

I stared sadly at the computer screen–it was something Toby would've known without me having to tell him and it wasn't just because he was a cop. He would have let me correct him, even when he knew I was wrong. And he'd hold me in his arms to comfort me, stroking my hair as he assured me that everything was going to be okay.

"What class was this for?" Caleb asked.

"It's for criminology." I pointed at the essay. "Look, that's exactly the way that Charles died. What if somebody knows that I wrote this paper, they know my history here, and they're trying to set me up?"

"Spence, breathe," Caleb told me. "Being back here is making you paranoid. Nobody's trying to hurt you, okay? I'm telling you…this is all just one big coincidence."

"I don't see how the police are gonna see it that way," I argued.

More than anything, I wanted to talk to Toby about this. But he didn't want me anymore. I quickly pushed him out of my mind, trying to find something else to distract me from the empty hole and the unbearable pain. The nothingness had only grown stronger since coming back to Rosewood; I could see Toby everywhere here. The hole began to gnaw on my insides, feeding off of the hollow emptiness in my chest. But when I was around Caleb, it didn't throb and bleed so much around the edges.

I checked the time on my watch. Five forty-five. "We should get going if we want to make it to Ali's."

Caleb nodded. "Sure, okay. Do you need help with the wine?"

"Okay," I agreed. "Thanks."

As I went to grab the bottle of Cabernet wine off the kitchen table that we were bringing over, Caleb reached for it at the same time and our hands touched. His fingers brushed over mine slowly. He lowered his gaze to mine, unleashing the power of his dark brown eyes, and I tried to suppress the hot, excited feeling that shivered through me. Why was he looking at me like that? And why did I suddenly feel so fluttery and flushed?

Finally, Caleb pulled his hand away from mine without taking his eyes off mine. When he touched me, a little spark passed through us. I suddenly felt dizzy and I couldn't think. Not of Toby and certainly not Hanna.

Hanna. Her face swam into my head. Hanna letting me lean on her after I told her my parents were getting divorced. Hanna hugging me when I told her A had taken everything from me, comforting me because I was forced to make Toby think I'd cheated on him with my sister's ex-fiancé, Wren. Hanna holding my hand in the hospital while Toby was in surgery from his car accident. Caleb was Hanna's ex-boyfriend.

I looked away quickly. Caleb moved away from me, coughing nervously. "Um, we should…" he trailed off.

"Yeah," I said quietly.

I grabbed the wine, following Caleb through the door. We walked across the street to Ali's house in awkward silence. On the front porch, the door was already wide open. The aroma of freshly baked bread and olive oil wafted through the room, and the sound of people's laughter and chatter bounced off the walls.

"Oh, there's more," Hanna was saying to Emily.

I looked over at the living room. Hanna and Emily were sitting on the couch, talking animatedly to each other. Hanna looked glamorous as always in a white, sleeveless button-up blouse that was paired with black floral pants, and Emily wore a casual gray T-shirt and jeans. Jess and Jason stood in the corner, with his arms wrapped around her as they murmured quietly to each other.

My stomach clenched. It was unbearable to watch Jason and Jess being so intimate out here in the open like this. It screamed happiness and true love, making my unhealed wounds throb. It was too much, too real. I had to tear my eyes away.

Hanna and Emily both looked up when they saw Caleb and I enter, and my cheeks burned. It felt strange arriving at dinner with Caleb, like we were a couple or something. And what would Hanna think? I didn't want the first real get-together we were having with everyone to consist of my friends shooting me evil glares across the table. Not to mention Jess was inviting Toby over, which only made it more nerve-wracking and awkward.

Hanna's lips parted, and her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. From the hurt look on her face, I knew she was thinking there was something going on between Caleb and I. Guilt twisted in my stomach.

"Hi, Hanna," I greeted nervously. "Hi, Jordan."

Jordan, who was standing next to Hanna, was tall and well-built with broad shoulders, and wore a gorgeous navy-blue blazer and button-up shirt. His dark brown hair was wavy and short. He had beautiful skin, high cheekbones, and bright green eyes.

Jordan leaned in to wrap his arms around me in a warm hug. Caleb's features tightened, darkening into a mixture of resentment and disappointment.

"Uh, Jordan, this is Caleb," Hanna said, gesturing to Caleb. "Caleb, Jordan."

Jordan extended his hand out to Caleb. "I finally get to meet the Caleb Rivers."

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you," Caleb said awkwardly, and shook his hand.

"Any chance you want to help me get the last load of food from the car?" Jordan asked.

"Uh, yeah," Caleb replied. "How much did you guys bring?"

"I know," Jordan laughed. "I come from a big family. Always over-order."

Caleb followed Jordan out the door to Hanna's parked car outside. Once the two of them were out of earshot, Emily leaned in close to Hanna. "They'll be fine," she assured her, noticing Hanna's worried expression.

I knew it wasn't easy to be around an ex after a breakup, especially if that so-called ex had moved on with someone else so quickly. I could relate.

While Hanna and Emily talked to Ali, I began to set up the dining room table for dinner, putting out Alison's dark-orange placemats. In the center of the table, there was an assortment of purple baby's breath, roses, and lavender in a tall glass vase that was being used as the centerpiece.

Jess sidled up next to me, looking pretty in a long-sleeved, sheer black floral dress that fell just above the knee, and her hair was pulled back with a diamond barrette. She looked gorgeous. "Hey, how are you holding up?"

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Given the circumstances."

Jess' eyes softened "It must be hard being back when you and Toby–"

"Are over," I finished.

"But you still love him," she said.

"It doesn't matter how I feel. He's moved on." I picked up the vase of flowers and started to move them into the kitchen, trying to free up some space for all the food.

Ali's head snapped towards me. "What are you doing?"

I stared at her, taken aback. "I was just going to make some room."

She glared at me. "I bought those for Charles to welcome him home."

"Ali," Jess scolded.

"No, it's okay," I assured her. "The flowers can stay there."

Ali nodded. "Okay, I'll go get some serving spoons." Then she turned for the kitchen, rummaging through the bottom drawers for two large, wooden salad spoons.

I continued setting up the table with Jess and Jason's help, but after a minute, I looked over at Ali. She was standing at the kitchen counter, absorbed in something by the window, but something in the sagging slope of her shoulders made me want to go to her. When Caleb and Jordan returned with the food, Ali greeted them cheerfully at the door, her dark mood seeming to have evaporated.

"You can put the food over there," Ali instructed, taking the container of food from Jordan. "Everyone's setting up the table."

I glanced at the front door for the millionth time that night, waiting for Toby to walk through. Since I'd bolted from the construction site that morning, we hadn't spoken. Now things were even weirder between us than before.

I saw Hanna and Emily kneeling down on the floor as they looked for a corkscrew for the four bottles of wine that all of us brought over. They were talking casually, and Hanna looked relaxed and happy.

"What do you do there?" I overheard Hanna ask Emily.

"Um, we research cures," she answered, and I knew they were talking about the Salk Institute. "Alzheimer's, diabetes, infectious diseases." Emily had been strangely vague about her job at the Salk Institute since she announced she was staying in Rosewood to be with her mom.

"Damn. Well you save 'em, I'll dress 'em." Hanna made a pinched face in irritation and she groaned. "God, there's four bottles of wine and nobody can find a wine opener. This is not happening." She stood and headed into the pantry closet.

I turned my head toward Caleb, who was helping Jordan carry a mahogany-wooden table with attached leaves into the dining area, noting the obvious tension between him and Jordan.

"Caleb?" I said.

He turned. "Yeah?"

I searched my brain for a clever excuse. "Um, I can't find any wine glasses. Wanna go check the pantry for me?"

"Yeah," he answered in an oddly monotone voice. He slipped into the closet, seeming unaware of my plan.

The truth was, there were no wine glasses in the pantry. Alison had gotten rid of all the alcohol when the hospital released Charles, thinking that he would be living here. I had to come up with something to get Caleb in the panty closet alone with Hanna. They needed to talk and sort things out. With everything going on lately, the two of them were right back to where they were during those sad, awkward months after their breakup. Caleb hadn't even congratulated Hanna on her engagement.

I started arranging the plates and silverware onto the table when Jordan approached. "Let me help you with that." He set down some plates on the placemats.

I smiled. "Thanks."

"Do you have your own place in D.C.?" he asked.

"I have an apartment out in D.C.," I answered, "and a good paying job as a lobbyist."

"Nice." Jordan grinned. "So do you and Caleb see much of each other in D.C.?"

"Uh, yeah, we do," I stuttered. "I mean, I don't see much of anybody except my phone. But of all the people that I don't see, I don't see Caleb the most. Or the least."

"Uh, it's nice you keep in contact. I barely see any friends from high school."

"Oh, we didn't for a while," I said, noticing Jordan seemed a little nervous. Maybe he was worried about meeting Hanna's closest friends. Or maybe it was being in the same room as her ex-boyfriend that had him so wound up.

"And then we ran into each other in Madrid," I went on. "It was crazy. It was a total fluke." I paused, thinking back to that strange day. "Yeah. I just finished my year abroad and he was backpacking through Europe. I was about to get on a train in Salamanca and I looked up and he was just standing there on the opposite platform."

Jordan looked jovial. "Wow. That sounds amazing."

"Yeah, it was," I said uncomfortably.

Caleb had been there for me when no one else had. Being away from Rosewood for so long, nobody knew how far Toby and I had grown apart. But Caleb understood and he didn't once judge me, even when I felt like a terrible person. He was my solace in this small, empty world. I couldn't imagine not having Caleb in my life. But I couldn't risk what we had by acting on some silly schoolgirl crush. It meant too much to me. Not to mention it would ruin my friendship with Hanna forever, too. We'd be having double dates with her and Jordan–my best friend and his ex-girlfriend. How uncomfortable would that be? And anyway, Hanna was my best friend; we'd made a rule years ago to never date each other's ex-boyfriends. We agreed that our friendship was way more important than letting a guy get in between us.

It was a rule I intended to follow.

A minute later, Hanna and Caleb stepped out of the pantry closet. I was surprised by the prickle of jealousy that had unexpectedly surfaced, burning through me like fire. There was something about the way Caleb was looking at Hanna that bothered me, knowing he was still pining for her. She would never return those same feelings because she was already in love with someone else, and I didn't want to see him get hurt again. An overwhelming sense of protectiveness overcame me then. But I'd wanted them to be alone together, so why was I feeling this way?

In the same moment, Alison's cell phone rang. She saw who was calling and immediately answered. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end said something, and her mouth drew into a tight grimace. "Thank you. I, uh, appreciate you calling."

Ali hung up.

Emily swung her eyes to Ali's. "Ali, who was that?"

"Lorenzo," Ali replied. "He said he'd call me with any updates."

My curiosity flared. "What was it? The update."

Ali stiffened. "Time of death. Charles was killed around four o'clock a.m."

Hanna looked at her empathically. "Are you okay?"

Ali met her eyes slowly. "Lorenzo says this is good news. They're one step closer to finding his killer."

An unspoken, tense silence fell over the room. The walls around us had crumbled, destroying every ounce of strength in our bond with lies and distrust. Everyone was acting so wary of one another now, like we were strangers, and I started to wonder if I ever knew them at all.

Toby

By the time I stepped through the double-glass doors of the Kimpton Hotel in Philadelphia, the sky was just fading into a dark blue. It was only six o'clock, but already the streets had emptied and all the house lights were turned off. Charles' murder had everyone spooked.

Tonight was the gala fundraiser dinner for the public senator election between Veronica Hastings and Kristine Phillips. The hotel was big and elegant, filled with crystal chandeliers, a royal red velvet carpet, and round tables lined with white tablecloths inside the ballroom for dinner and dancing. An orchestra band had been hired to play soft, mellow music for the event, along with one of the best caterers in town who had prepared caviar and lobster bisque. Inside, the ballroom was buzzing with people sipping champagne and chattering about the election.

But I didn't care about any of that.

I stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the valet to bring my truck back from the gated parking lot. I'd changed into my best dress pants and a long-sleeved, maroon button-up shirt because I was only staying at the gala for a few hours before heading over to Alison's for dinner with my old friends, much to the Phillips' dismay. And I knew Spencer would be dressed up and gorgeous as usual.

My heart raced just thinking about seeing her tonight. Would she be happy to see me?

My gold Chevy truck finally rolled up to the side of the curb, and I took the keys from the valet. As I drove through the dark streets, I thought about telling Spencer the truth about who I was building the house for. Maybe I could even stop by the flower shop on the way over and buy a bouquet of her favorite red roses. Thinking better of it, I took a left at the turn and headed west to Alison's house. Only a loser would buy his ex-girlfriend flowers.

But Spencer used to be mine. I'd changed a lot from being the creepy boy next door that Ali used to make fun of. Her kind-heartedness was one of the reasons I'd first fallen in love with her. Before Spencer and I became friends, though, I thought she was one of Ali's stuck-up, smart, popular minions among her clique of friends who did all the dirty work for her, and stood by and watched as Ali ripped into her targets. Ali had even given me a nickname: Creepy Cavanaugh, because she thought I spied through people's windows and sacrificed squirrels. But I'd also seen a softer side underneath Spencer's tough, quiet exterior. One year in 9th grade, when everyone went to the lake for the summer, id overheard Ali poking fun of me, saying I liked to kill squirrels in the woods. Spencer, who had been relaxing on a beach towel on her stomach, flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder, turned to Ali and said, "Do you ever get tired of shooting at the lowly aimed fruit?" I'd been so surprised that my jaw nearly dropped to the ground. I wasn't used to people defending me back then, especially flawlessly beautiful girls like Spencer.

I shook the memory from my head and realized I was now standing on Alison's front porch. When I stepped through the door, everything moved in slow motion. My brain stalled for a moment before I could react properly, as my eyes settled on her face. And all I could see was her; everything else disappeared.

Spencer stared back at me, seeming just as mesmerized. She wore a light-blue denim dress shirt over a pair of black leggings and ballet flats. Her long, dark-brown hair cascaded down her shoulders in gorgeous waves, and her plump, pink lips looked extra kissable. Spencer was so beautiful that all the feeling in my limbs melted away. I wanted to take her in my arms right there and kiss her.

I stood frozen in the foyer, too transfixed on Spencer to move. Finally, I forced my legs forward and miraculously made it into the dining room. Jess looked pleased to see me.

"Toby!" Jess cried, throwing her arms around me. "You made it."

I cleared my throat. "Um, yeah. I wouldn't miss it."

"We're just about to start dinner. Why don't you sit next to Spencer?"

My eyes immediately fell on Spencer, my hands trembling. Robotically, I pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. I didn't know whether to feel nervous or ecstatic about sitting so close to her. I was too numb with shock to react.

A remarkably good-looking guy stood in the corner, fiddling with a bottle of red wine. His features were sharp and flawless beneath a pair of brilliant green eyes and dark wavy hair. And his cheekbones looked as if they had been sculpted from an old master. He was dressed in a navy blazer over a blue long-sleeved, button-up shirt, charcoal-grey pants, and a pair of expensive-looking loafers. This had to be Hanna's fiancé, Jordan, that Spencer had been telling me about.

He set down the opened bottle of wine and smiled when his eyes settled on me, flashing a set of brilliantly white teeth. "Ah, you must be Toby. Spencer's told me so much about you." His voice was polite, with an Australian accent.

"Uh, yeah." I exchanged a glance with Spencer, but she quickly looked away, flushing with embarrassment.

"It's nice to meet you." Jordan extended his hand to me.

"You, too." I shook his hand.

Ali took her seat at the head of the table. "Let's say grace," she announced, and everyone clasped their hands together at the table.

"Hanna, give me your hand," Jordan was saying, reaching for Hanna's hand. Their fingers wrapped around each other's, fitting together perfectly like it had always been meant to be that way. I thought I saw Caleb scowling at them.

When I took Spencer's hand in mine, the touch of her skin against mine warmed my insides. Her hand felt warm and soft in my own, our fingers entwining together like missing puzzle pieces.

"Thank you, Heavenly Father, for this healing food and these dear friends," Ali began. "And thank you to all those who are working tirelessly to seek justice for Charles. And thank you for helping the police find Charles' killer and anyone who could be protecting him or her. Thank you always for your love and guidance. Amen."

Everyone remained silent for several, long seconds, staring at Alison quizzically. Spencer looked stunned, throwing Ali a bewildered look. Jordan, however, sat there casually, oblivious to Alison's speech about Charles.

I tried to hold it together, but I couldn't help but wonder if Ali had been talking to me specifically when she'd said police. It couldn't have been clearer even if she had thrown a lit grenade. Ali knew I was working on the case for Charles' mysterious murder. It was almost as if she was telling me it was my sole responsibility to bring justice to Charles' death, or else.

When the meal began, we ate casserole in the light from the crystal chandelier hanging above. The nine of us spent the evening talking pleasantly and catching up. Ali was asking Jordan about how the wedding plans were coming along, and Hanna and Caleb made plans to hang out together again as it had been so long since they'd last seen each other. Emily spent the first half of dinner talking to Jason and Jess, saying how wonderful they were together and wondering what plans they had for their future, trying to teeter the conversation from herself when Jess would ask Emily what she'd been up to in California. I talked mostly to Spencer, filling her in on how things were going lately, occasionally getting interrupted by Jess whenever she thought we were in danger of ending the conversation. Spencer looked pleased when I told her I skipped the gala to see her tonight, and when her knee brushed up against mine, I was given the impression that it wasn't an accident. Caleb, however, watched Spencer intently from the end of the table with darkened eyes that was giving me the protective instinct to shield her away from him.

I looked around the table at the boisterous laughter bubbling from everyone, feeling as though I was a part of something whole. I smiled a lot from talking to Spencer, happy in a fluttery, spinning-in-eternity kind of way because I was with her.

I didn't want to leave.

Spencer

Since Toby had driven all the way from Philadelphia from the gala in his truck, Jason offered to follow him home in his silver Volvo to make sure he made it back safely. While Jess and Emily helped Ali wash the dishes, I slipped into the pantry closet so I could talk to Hanna privately.

"Wow," was all Hanna said when she stepped inside the oversize pantry.

"Was that speech directed at us?" I wondered.

Hanna paused. "Not us…but Aria maybe."

I frowned. "Why would Ali think Aria would have anything to do with Charles' death?"

"Maybe she did," she said. "Aria left the hotel the night he was killed."

"How do you know this?" I asked.

"I saw her. She left around 3 A.M. and I don't know when she came back."

"Well, let's just ask her," I suggested.

Hanna let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, I tried that. She denied anywhere but going to her car."

I was grappling for ideas in my head until I found one. It was a stupid and risky plan, but it was the only one I had. I hoped Hanna still had some tricks up her sleeve so that she could get her hands on the hotel security footage from the night Charles was killed.

"Okay, well, there are surveillance cameras right in the lobby of the hotel," I worded out carefully.

Hanna looked at me blankly. "Yeah."

"Your mom's the manager. So you could find a way to get a look at the footage from that night."

"No," Hanna said sternly. "I don't do stuff like that anymore."

I looked at her gently. "Hanna, I know it's a lot to ask, okay? But how else are we supposed to make sure that Aria came back before Charles died?"

"Fine," she agreed reluctantly. Then she stomped out of the closet into the kitchen without even saying a word to Ali.

Later that evening, after everyone went home, Caleb and I walked back to the barn, exhausted from the intensity of dinner. The small house lights dotting the pathway glowed against the darkness of the late evening sky, and the normal nighttime cricket sounds filled the air. I unlocked the barn's front door and Caleb and I slipped inside, giggling, still tipsy from the red wine we devoured at Alison's house.

I snapped on the lights. The barn was empty, and Jason and Jess still weren't home yet. A feeling of dread weighed heavily on me. Caleb's presence made me feel like cockroaches were crawling all over me. The couch, which Caleb had been sleeping on for the last few nights, was made up neatly with a bunch of fluffy pillows and a cashmere throw blanket was folded over the arm. I thought of my college essay and the possibility that Aria could have been responsible for Charles' death, the idea making me more frantic. Immediately, I went around the living room and made sure all the silver picture frames were straight and the chair throw pillows were fluffed symmetrically. In the kitchen, I fixed the flower vase so that it was centered in the middle of the counter island and was watered. I positioned the oranges so they were arranged in a pyramid pattern inside the fruit bowl. When I returned to the living room, I studied the front of Jess' old art history book from Yale. On the cover was a secretive-looking Mona Lisa in her famous oil painting portrait.

I tried breathing in deeply through my nose the way Jess had taught me, but I still felt worried and stressed. Finally, I started pulling off all the couch pillows to make room for Caleb. It's not gonna make anybody think that you're capable of murder, Caleb's voice rang in my ear.

I wished Toby were here. He would've known the right things to say.

Caleb noticed the worried lines in my forehead, and added a pillow to the piled stack on the floor. "Spence, stop worrying about the paper. You gotta let it go."

"Are you sure you're okay sleeping on the couch again?" I asked him, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah, totally. It's a lot more comfortable than those hostel beds in Europe."

I smiled, recalling our trip to Spain. "Can you believe that it's been three years since we were in Madrid?"

Caleb shook his head, chuckling. "That's crazy."

Spain was the one thing I had with Caleb that I could call mine, something that bonded us together in friendship. We would forever have something special between us from our adventure there.

"I don't think I'm ever going to forgive you for dragging me to that awful bullfight," I reminded him bitterly.

"Come on, it was not that awful," he insisted. "It was awful when you started screaming Savages at the drunk crowd."

"It was terrible from the beginning," I cried. "That's why I was screaming. It was awful."

"Okay," he admitted.

I glared at him through narrowed eyes. "You made me cry."

Caleb laughed. "I didn't make you do anything."

"You didn't stop me from crying in the street," I pointed out.

"You were pretty livid," he agreed.

I clenched my teeth. "It was not okay. Toby never would've done that to me."

At the mention of Toby's name, Caleb's expression morphed rapidly with an emotion that I couldn't understand, but he kept his smile in place. It was a mixture of annoyance and something hot and fiery that frightened me in a different way.

He paused several long seconds before answering. "But hey, I redeemed myself when I snuck us into Retiro Park with a couple bottles of Sangria."

"Yeah, you did," I lied.

"That was a beautiful sunset." He was gazing at me with those dark brown eyes again, fixed on me in a way that made me more and more uncomfortable. "It was my best night in Europe."

I dropped my eyes to the floor. "Yeah."

Suddenly, I didn't want to be around him anymore. Caleb did strange things to me when he was here, made me feel weak. And his eyes were strongly compelling and held my own against the little willpower I had left.

Caleb's eyes lit up in that moment, as if just remembering something, and his tone altered. "Uh, hey, your mom asked Jess and I to stick around and help with the campaign."

"That's a great idea." When my cell phone buzzed with a new text, I brought it out and glanced at the screen. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you."

Caleb didn't take his eyes off me even as I pressed READ, so I angled the phone away from his view. There was a new message from Hanna. I'd asked her to text me with any updates on finding the hotel security footage before we left Alison's, but that had been only fifteen minutes ago.

Found my mom's keys to the security room

– Hanna

A chill snaked up my spine. Perhaps Aria did have something to do with Charles' death. But could she really be capable of murder? It was beyond disturbing to think about. And what about the things Ali had said right before dinner–did Aria leave town solely because she was the true killer?

After making up a bed for Caleb on the couch, I gathered my purse and keys. I felt someone watching me and when I looked over, Caleb was standing there, staring right at me. He smiled widely, weirdly at me and his eyes glittered as dark as chocolate. His pupils were dilated like a cat's, filling my vision, making me fall deeper and deeper into them until it felt as if I were drowning.

Finally, I found the good sense to force myself to look away and turned for the door. When I stepped out onto the grass, all I could see was darkness.

I stumbled up to my Toyota Highlander in the gravel pathway, trying to figure out what had just happened. I climbed into the leather seat of my car and relief washed over me. What am I doing? I thought in bewilderment. He's Hanna's ex-boyfriend, her first love.

But that wasn't even the worst part. For those last few minutes, I had forgotten about Toby. His face filled my mind now, and a longing for him filled my body like a physical pain. I needed Toby, wanted his arms around me to keep me safe.

I started the car and glanced over my shoulder, peeling away from the barn. I stared blankly ahead as I maneuvered through the dark streets. Suddenly, the world around me flooded with brightness and color and I found myself parked in front of the familiar entrance to the Radley Hotel. I started toward the front steps and hurried down the hall to the security room, where Hanna, Emily and Jess were waiting for me. I heard voices behind a wooden closed door as I approached.

I stood in the hallway for a minute, looking around and listening for anyone who might be close by. A few doors down, I saw a guy dressed in a navy janitor's uniform, along with two other maintenance guys pushing a laundry cart. I quickly ducked into the door labeled SECURITY.

Hanna, Emily and Jess sat in front of a computer in a small, bland room surrounded by selves of files and metal drawers. They were staring intently at a black and white video footage, titled with the date.

"Hey, the hallway's clear," I announced, "but there's a cleaning crew down the hall."

"Okay, hurry," Emily said to Hanna.

"I'm going as fast as I can." Hanna pressed a couple keys on the keyboard, and moved the mouse over the screen to find the right file that held all the videos from the night of Charles' death.

"What did I miss?" I walked over to them at the computer and leaned over their shoulders to watch the opening of a new video. A couple of blurry figures moved around on the screen, but I couldn't make them out.

"Aria left the hotel with Ezra," Jess answered.

"What?" I shrieked.

A strange, disturbing sensation slithered over me. Aria and Ezra used to be together–it wouldn't surprise me if they had reunited that night. They'd broken up and gotten back together so many times, it made my head spin.

"But she didn't come back with him." Hanna pointed to the time in the top left corner of the screen. "It's four twenty-eight."

I felt sick. We all knew Aria hated Charles for what he did to her, for trying to throw her off a moving train after he'd locked her inside a box, and then again when he'd kidnapped and tortured us in the Dollhouse, how he was so manipulative, that he was a psychopath. Charles kept a lot of secrets–maybe Aria had finally uncovered what his real intentions were for getting out of Welby and she tried to stop him.

Emily turned to me. "What time did Ali say that Charles was killed?"

"Close to four," I said. "Just because she came back after the time of murder, it doesn't mean that she had anything to do with it."

"No," Hanna agreed, "but it doesn't look good."

"Why else would Aria have left the hotel in the middle of the night?" Jess added.

I stared at the screen, piecing it all together. It couldn't be true. But it was hard to ignore the facts right in front of me: Aria had left the hotel an hour just before Charles was killed and didn't come back until the time of his murder. Aria knew Charles was staying with Ali after he'd been released from the hospital. The Welby State Psychiatric Hospital let him out of their care, and Aria couldn't handle it.

"What do we do?" Emily stressed. "Do we erase the video?"

Hanna whipped her head to Emily. "We're not in high school, Emily. We're gonna talk to Aria."

"She won't tell us anything," she pointed out.

"Well, I'm not covering for Aria if she's guilty," Jess said right after.

"Well, she doesn't have a choice this time." I grabbed my purse. "C'mon, let's go."

Emily frowned. "Where?"

"To Aria's old house."

"I'm way ahead of you," Hanna said, standing up.

Hanna led us through the lobby and outside to the parking lot, her Chanel purse swinging on her arm. She unlocked her Mercedes with her keys and slid into the driver's seat. I sat in the passenger seat, and Emily and Jess settled in the back.

Hanna turned the key into the ignition and sped out of the lot. When we arrived at the Montgomery's modern Craftsman-style house, Hanna parked her car at the curb and all four of us jumped out, walking up the front steps. The lights from inside the foyer were still on.

I rang the doorbell, releasing three long, deep dong chimes. Aria appeared through the frosted panels of the window a few seconds later and opened the door, standing in the doorway with a confused look on her face. Jess, Emily, Hanna and I pushed around her and walked into her house.

Aria's eyes were cautious. "How did you know I was back?"

"I saw you visiting Ezra," Emily told her. "We know you saw him the night Charles died."

"We know you left the hotel for more than five minutes," Hanna accused.

I stood facing her with my arms crossed tightly over my chest. "Yeah, and by the time you came back Charles was already dead."

Jess turned her fierce, fiery gaze to Aria. "It's time to tell us what really happened that night."

Aria took a deep breath as if she was preparing for battle. "Okay, this is what happened..."

The night Charles was killed, Aria explained, Ezra came to our hotel room because she couldn't sleep and they wandered around town for a little bit. And they saw Charles there too, going inside the church. But just before they headed back, Aria said she noticed there was something strange about Ezra's expression, and he looked angry. And then they both left their separate ways.

"He told me he went home afterwards," Aria said. "But I don't know." A worried, uncertain look passed over her face. "He-he was so angry."

Hanna looked at Aria and frowned. "Aria, what is it?"

Aria's eyes were filled with a different kind of fear. "I know him. And I know that Ezra can't look me in the eye when he lies. And when he told me he went home, he didn't look at me."

"Well, we have to tell someone," Jess spoke in a self-assured voice from a place of inner fire, as only she could. "Lorenzo, Ali, someone."

Emily turned to her, alarmed. "No, we don't. Now, this is a giant leap. We're talking about Ezra killing someone. I mean, until we have actual proof we don't tell anyone anything."

"It's not." I lowered my eyes, too afraid to look either of them directly. "It's not a giant leap. In fact, I think I told Ezra how to do it."

Everyone looked surprised. "What makes you think that?" Emily asked.

"Because." I took a deep breath. "During my sophomore year at Georgetown, I wrote a paper on a case study of a woman who was murdered the night before her wedding. The killer made it look like a suicide, just like Charles."

"You did a college essay on a murder?" Hanna didn't look angry exactly, just confused.

"It was for criminology class," I explained. "We had to do public case studies on unique murders from the 20th Century."

"And you did yours on a murder the same way as Charles," she said slowly.

"I know, it's all my fault." I ran a hand through my hair. "If I had known Ezra was going to…"

"Spencer, this is not your fault," Jess told me sternly, narrowing her eyes at Hanna. "Just tell us what happened, from the beginning."

I felt my stomach clench up. "Ezra was on his book tour and we got together for lunch. He was still trying to figure out what he wanted to write next, and he said that he was toying with the idea of a murder mystery. I had just written my paper, so I told him about the case in detail."

When I was finished, my friends were silent. Jess raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. "Don't you think you're being a little paranoid?"

I felt tears filling my eyes. "No, I'm not. Ezra knows about the paper I wrote and he used it to kill Charles."

"Maybe Ezra did this to protect you," Hanna suggested, looking at Aria.

Aria looked back at her, puzzled. "Protect me? By copying some bizarre murder from the past?"

"Spencer, this was a public case," Emily rationalized. "You weren't the only two who knew about it."

"He saw how upset Aria was in the courtroom," I disagreed. "And he's still angry about what happened to Nicole. I mean, who knows what he's capable of now?"

"No, he's hurting," Jess said. "There's a difference."

"If he did kill Charles and the police find out, it's gonna look like you were involved too," Hanna said to Aria. "You left the hotel with Ezra and you came back a half hour after Charles was killed."

Aria's hazel eyes widened. "Nobody can see that security footage."

"Why did you show this to me?" my mother asked. She was sitting at my computer, looking over my old college essay that I'd written about the murder, connecting me to Charles' death.

After my friends and I left Aria's house, I'd come straight home to find my mother in the kitchen, papers and political Hastings stickers for the campaign scattered around the counter island. I couldn't let this go on any longer; I had to tell her. If anything about my criminology paper came into the limelight, it could bring unwanted attention to her and ruin the campaign, if I hadn't done that already. Someone from my class at Georgetown might have remembered it, seen the news about Charles, and thought I had something to do with his death. So I brought out my laptop and pulled out the document of my paper. Just do it, I told myself. I'd closed my eyes, shoved my laptop in front of my mom, and when I opened them, the essay shone in front of her from the screen.

I kept all my college papers on my computer and saved everything. If someone else had seen my paper, they could have posted it online to spark interest in the election, the same way that blogger had mentioned my dark past. I looked nervously at my mom now as she stared at the computer screen, worried about all the mistakes I'd made. How Melissa had caught her fiancé, Wren, kissing me and then our parents banned him from going near the property ever again. How I'd gotten sent to Radley, what used to be a mental institution for troubled teens, when I thought I saw Toby's dead body in the woods and broke down. The time my friends and I told the police Ian Thomas was dead when we saw his body hanging from the bell tower's rope inside the church, only to find him gone ten minutes later. And, to top it all off, the second A framed me and had everyone–including the police–believing I had killed Bethany Young, the girl who'd disappeared the same time as Ali.

Politicians were supposed to be trustworthy, have perfect hair, plastic smiles, and a goody-manicured fashion sense. I didn't want my mom associated with this. It would destroy her political reputation.

"I wanted you to know that I wrote it," I told my mother. "Somebody from my class could remember it and read about Charles and connect the dots."

"What dots?" Mrs. Hastings knit her eyebrows together. "Do you know anything about what happened to Charles?"

"No," I answered honestly.

"Then I'm not worried."

"Mom, how can you not worry?" I cried, my voice dripping with guilt. "If this gets out, it's going to ruin your campaign if I haven't done that already."

"You haven't," Mrs. Hastings said confidently. "And it won't. We'll get ahead of this."

"How?" I asked.

"Caleb already started a narrative about you being bullied on social media," she assured me. "If this comes up, it'll already be diffused. You are not a liability, Spencer. You're my daughter." Then my mother rose from the table and simply left the room, walking up the stairs to her bedroom.

I sighed. When I saw something move in the shadows through the glass-door window, I jumped. A scream froze in my throat. My muscles were locked in place, too stunned by terror to move. I watched helplessly as the figure in the darkness moved from beneath the shadows to the door.

A second later, a man's large hand reached for the doorknob. I moved slowly toward him, my heart hammering inside my chest. I peered through the blinds concealing the intruder, nearly collapsing with relief when I saw who it was.

"Toby," I blurted, opening the door. "What are you doing here?"

Toby stood on the back porch, still wearing his maroon button-up shirt and black pants. He looked so gorgeous, it took my breath away. I couldn't believe just a few seconds ago I had mistaken him for an intruder.

He smiled broadly, sweetly. "I wanted to see you."

I threw my arms around him in ease, happy to see him.

Toby hugged me back. "Are you okay?" he murmured.

I felt the moisture from earlier return to my eyes, thinking about Charles' murder and my old criminology paper. I didn't know if I was okay. There was so much going on through my head, I couldn't quite figure out what I was feeling.

Tears ran down my cheeks, soaking his shirt. "I think I did something really stupid." I choked back a sob.

Toby held me tighter, stroking my hair comfortingly.

"If I had known you were coming over, I would have made more coffee," said a voice behind us.

Toby and I jumped apart, startled. Caleb sat on the couch a foot away, the TV flickering in the background. His brown hair was rumpled messily as if he'd been up for hours and the collar of his faded charcoal T-shirt had slid off his shoulder.

"Caleb," I squeaked. "I didn't see you there."

Caleb gestured to the silver Mac laptop sitting next to mine on the island counter. "I was working on a video for your mom's campaign site and decided to take a break. It's a silent commercial to convince people why they should vote for her."

"Don't you computer geniuses ever take a break?" I teased. "My mom said you already fixed it."

"There's always room for improvement." He shot me a seductive smile.

Toby narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Caleb, and I leaned into him. Caleb's gaze zeroed in on our closeness. "What are you doing here?" Caleb asked Toby.

"I came to see Spencer," Toby answered, his voice hard. "Why are you here?"

"I live here," Caleb said a little territorially.

"Um, he's staying in the barn until the election," I quickly informed him.

Toby nodded. "Why don't you stay in my trailer? It's probably a lot more comfortable than sleeping on the couch."

Caleb smirked. "There's no way I'm giving up the couch for a small trailer."

I peeked at Toby. He was looking at Caleb distrustfully, his jaw clenched. My insides flipped over. Toby was still protecting me, even when we were broken up. Straightaway, a memory popped into my mind. It was a spring day in May, one of the many weekends Toby came out to Washington to see me. Three years later, and I could still remember every detail of it. He'd sprung for a hotel just for the two of us and had surprised me with a picnic lunch at Meridian Hill Park. Then later inside the hotel, while I studied for exams, Toby would kiss my neck and give me massages. I was happy the whole night, feeling as though I'd downed six glasses of bubbly champagne. And after sharing a romantic candlelit dinner together in our hotel room, Toby took me up to the balcony to watch the stars in the jewel-night sky and we made love. Tears came to my eyes.

And then my stomach rolled, breaking me away from the memory, and a wave of nausea overpowered me. I clamped a hand over my mouth.

"Spencer?" Toby furrowed his eyebrows together in concern. "Are you okay?"

I managed to nod, pushing down the vomit. "Yeah, I'm just feeling a little lightheaded."

"Let me get you some water." Toby wandered over to the kitchen to grab an empty cup from the overhead cabinet and then turned on the faucet. By the time he came back with a glass of water, Caleb had already left the room.

I took the glass from him gratefully and took a big sip. "Thanks."

"I should get going."

I pulled at the sleeve of his shirt. "No, don't. Please stay."

"Okay," Toby whispered, and I fell into his chest. He wrapped his arms around my body and held me close to him.

"I can sleep on the couch," he offered.

I shook my head. "No, Jason and Jess are sleeping in the guest room and Caleb will have nowhere to sleep. Will you sleep with me tonight?"

"Of course I will," he answered sweetly.

I took his hand and guided him into my bedroom. And even though there were clothes all over the floor and an open bottle of Vodka, Toby seemed content to be with me. We sat down on the bed. The mattress bounced beneath us slightly, and the down comforter was thick and fluffy.

Toby stared at me. "Spencer, what's going on?"

"Do you remember my criminology paper that I showed you?" When Toby nodded, I took a big, shaky breath and continued. "I wrote it after we broke up. And I think the person who killed Charles got the idea from my paper."

Here it goes, I thought. Toby is going to hate me forever.

But instead of getting angry like I thought he would, Toby entwined his fingers firmly through mine. "It's not your fault."

I shook my head, blinking back tears. "You don't know that. Somebody could have seen my paper and used it to fake Charles' suicide."

"No one thinks you had anything to do with Charles' death. Nobody could." He reached out to wipe the tears away from my eyes.

"But if someone is trying to set me up–"

"I'll protect you," he said automatically.

I stared into his eyes, seeing the truth in them. He would really do it.

"I'd die before I let anybody hurt you," Toby went on.

"I want you to kiss me," I whispered.

"I really want to," Toby whispered back.

He leaned closer and closer until our lips were almost touching. My veins jumped, thrilling at his closeness. I gently pushed his face away with my cheek so that our foreheads were pressed together; I didn't trust myself around him. I heard Toby swallow, and he brushed away a strand of my hair. The movement was so tender and loving that I could have melted right there.

Eventually, we changed the conversation to a lighter topic, not wanting to complicate things further. So Toby and I snuggled up to each other and spent the rest of the night talking. I told him about the time when I was nine, Melissa and I got into a huge fight and she tattled on me, and then my parents took her side like they always did. How I used to have nightmares of the Dollhouse after Charles kidnapped me. About the time I stole Melissa's AP Russian history paper that had gotten me nominated for a Golden Orchid award, the most prestigious high school essay contest in the country, for fear of losing my 4.0 average. Toby told me about how when he was little, he saw an injured baby bird in the middle of the road and broke his arm saving it when a car swerved and hit him. He told me about his mom's bird watching hobby and used to watch her feed them raspberries in the garden.

It was so easy to talk to Toby–I didn't have to pretend with him. I wished we could run away together to a faraway place like Paris and never come back. Being in Paris would be amazing. We'd live in a big, French villa by the river and eat nothing but cheese and bread, and drink wine for the rest of our lives.

When Toby and I were too tired to talk anymore, we dressed for bed. I changed into a pair of black pajama shorts that only covered my torso and a matching tank top, and Toby stripped down to his boxers. I salivated at his bare chest and broad shoulders. He turned around, stared, and his cheeks reddened. Was he feeling the same way as I was? Did he want me, too?

Tentatively, I climbed underneath my comforter and snuggled against his chest, trying to keep warm. Nothing made sense when I wasn't with Toby. And as I let the steady thudding of his heartbeat lull me to sleep in his arms, I suddenly didn't care if he had a new woman in his life.

Because I was deeply, madly, and passionately in love with him.