Page 25 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

Across the field Jackson straightened from the bench and started back toward me. Our eyes met. I looked away first.

My cat did not.

After practice, I headed straight home. There, I changed into shorts and a tank top, grabbed a bottle of water, and went out the back door. The yard backed onto a strip of woods, private enough for what I needed.

I stepped onto the flattest patch and let my body fall into the familiar rhythm of movement. The basics came without thought, combinations building through muscle memory as each sequence flowed into the next—kicks, strikes, pivots, takedowns. My breathing steadied and my mind slipped into the quiet place it only reached when my body was fully occupied.

I worked for an hour, maybe a little more, pushing until my legs burned before finally letting it go. I stood in the cooling air with my hands on my knees, catching my breath.

My cat had noticed the wolf twenty minutes earlier. I hadn’t bothered looking. If he wanted to watch, he could watch. I finished the workout before giving him the satisfaction of my attention.

I sat on the back steps and stretched properly. When I was done, I finally glanced toward the tree line. Large. Black. Still. Watching from between two oaks.

I stood, brushed the grass off my shorts, and looked directly at him.

“You’re not subtle,” I said. Then I went inside for a shower.

A wolf at the edge of my yard should have been a problem. The fact that it was not was starting to feel like one.

When I stepped out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and stood in front of the mirror, deciding how much effort I was willing to put into the night.

More than usual, apparently.

I curled my hair into loose waves and went heavier on the makeup, smoky eyes and red lipstick. In the closet I chose a black dress. Fitted, mid-thigh. It hugged my hips when I smoothed it down. My phone buzzed with a text.

Cassidy: On my way. Do NOT change your mind.

I set the phone back down and reached for the thigh holster, sliding it up under the dress and positioning it high on my left thigh until the slim blade settled into place with a quiet click. Then I smoothed the fabric back down over it, checking the mirror from a few angles and adjusting until there was no visible line. I grabbed my phone and jacket and stepped onto the porch just as headlights swept the front of the house.

Cassidy leaned out the back window. “Get in before you change your mind.”

I slid in and shut the door.

The driver checked the mirror. “Hawthorne, number twenty-four?”

“Yes, thank you,” Cassidy said. “And please drive before she bolts.”

The car pulled away. Streetlights slid across the windows in gold streaks. Cassidy kept glancing at me, grin widening.

“You curled your hair.”

“Cassidy.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Say it quieter.”

She faced forward, still smiling. I watched the neighborhood roll by.

“One night,” she said after a moment. “Just exist in it. See what happens.”

The car slowed to the curb outside a house already pulsing with music.

“We’re here,” the driver said.

Cassidy reached for the door. “This is going to be fun. Ready?”

“No,” I said, and got out.