Page 70 of Lured By Shadows

“The whole family is…” she cut in quickly, eyes flicking toward the rearview mirror. “But they’re stunning. Liam especially.”

“I’ve met them,” I said quietly, the words slipping out before I’d fully decided to share them.

Oliver slowly turned around in his seat, eyes widening. “Wait… what?”

“My ma works for Culver’s parents,” I explained, staring out the window as the road blurred past. “We had dinner with them last night.”

He stared at me for a long second, his expression unreadable, before turning back toward the road.

“Believe it or don’t,” he said casually. "You're Scarbrough’s girl. That’s obvious.”

Scarbrough’s girl.

Not my own person. Not just Ira. Not even a friend.

Just… his.

I stared out the window, watching trees and buildings smear together while my reflection hovered faintly in the glass. A guy who barely spoke, who watched everything, who somehow lived rent-free in my head and filled every quiet moment when I least expected it.

A guy who didn’t even want me.

And yet somehow, everyone else already acted as though I belonged to him.

Later that night, I lay tangled in my sheets staring up at the ceiling as though it might suddenly explain everything if I looked hard enough. The faint glow outside cast shifting patterns across the room while shadows crawled slowly along the walls, matching the restless loop of my thoughts. It had only been one full day without Culver, and my chest still ached in a way that felt ridiculous.

I rolled onto my side and shoved my face into the pillow, trying to force my thoughts somewhere else. The party with Carter tomorrow.

He felt easy in a way Culver didn’t. That was exactly what I needed right now. Something simple. Especially since my cycle had ended right before the move, which honestly felt like the universe handing me a clean slate.

That thought barely settled before guilt twisted low in my stomach.

Amy.

I hadn’t called her, hadn’t texted her, and hadn’t even explained anything to her. The distance between us had stretched wider and wider while I let myself get swallowed up. She was probably hurt. Definitely angry. And honestly, she had every right to be. Her face flashed through my mind, all worry and irritation mixed together in the way only Amy could manage.

I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on breathing, letting the steady rhythm slowly pull me under. When I finally drifted off, a half-formed prayer still lingered on my lips, unfinished and uncertain.

***

The next day came too fast, slipping into midday before I fully registered it. My phone rested on the bedsheets beside me like a challenge, its screen quietly reminding me about the conversation I’d been avoiding. I hovered over Amy’s contact, throat dry and pulse uneven as the knot tightened in my chest.

Finally, I braced myself and tapped the screen.

The second ring barely finished before she picked up, her voice exploding through the line with fury and affection tangled together.

“Oh my God,” Amy shrieked, hitting a pitch that could probably crack glass.

I yanked the phone away from my ear, wincing.

“What the hell! Why haven’t ya called me?”

Her voice sounded exactly the same: dramatic, loud, and completely unfiltered. The familiarity settled over me instantly, dragging me straight back into the comfort of home. There she was. My emotional support chaos gremlin.

“Uh,” I fumbled, rubbing my forehead. “Where do I even begin? First of all, how’ve you been?”

“Pfft, don’t even get me started,” she grumbled, already launching herself into a rant. “Joshua’s been a total jerk-off since you left.”

Some things clearly never changed.