“What’s new with you?” she asked.
Where did I even begin? I couldn’t hardly tell her the truth, but I guessed now was as good a time as any to practice my cover story.
“Well, remember that guy I told you about?” I asked.
“Which one?”
I laughed, and after a moment, so did Ellie. “Simon,” I said.
“The hot one?” she asked.
“They’re all hot,” I said, smiling. “But he’s the British guy.”
“Did you two hook up?” she asked, and a spark of her old, bubbly personality rose to the surface. “I need details.”
“No,” I said. “I was at a party at his house, and Trent showed up—”
“He’s the hot one?” she interrupted.
Laughing again, I shook my head, not that she could see me. “Yes, he’s the hot one. Anyway, he showed up and kissed me, and Simon saw the whole thing. Now, Simon isn’t talking to me.” I frowned.
“No,” she gasped. “Trent kissed you?”
“Yup.” I paced the room, too excited to be having a normal conversation about guys with Ellie, when I suddenly froze.
Eventually, whenever this whole thing with the Rose Coven was resolved, I’d be going home to Keene Valley. Ideally, Trent would be going with me. How was I going to explain that I met him in Malibu and he just happened to also be moving to a tiny town in the Adirondack Mountains?
Fear and dread curled around my chest and squeezed. I probably shouldn’t be telling Ellie any of this until after I’d talked to Trent first. We needed to come up with something to tell everyone once we got home.
“Chloe?” Ellie said.
“Sorry. Hey, I gotta go,” I said abruptly.
“What? You were just getting to the good part. You can’t leave me hanging like this.” She giggled.
“I know.” I rubbed my forehead and cringed. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” she said slowly. “Is everything all right?”
My stomach sank. “I’m not coming home,” I said before I chickened out. “I mean, I am, but not as soon as I’d planned. I’m spending the summer traveling with a friend. I haven’t had the chance to tell Abby yet, though, and I know she’s gonna freak, so please don’t say anything to her.”
I blew out a heavy breath and willed myself to stop rambling. Ellie was already suspicious of my weird behavior, and my inability to make sense right now wasn’t helping.
“This friend wouldn’t happened to be named Trent?” she asked, her tone teasing.
“No.” I tried to make my voice as equally light, but I wasn’t sure I succeeded. “Listen, I really have to go, but we’ll talk soon. Promise.” I ended the call before she could say anything else.
God, I hoped I hadn’t completely messed things up beyond repair. I needed to talk to Trent about all of this. Commotion downstairs caught my attention. The twins were back.
Showtime.
I headed down to the main floor to find the twins and Jax in the kitchen, unpacking what had to be two dozen grocery bags. Trent was on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table.
“Chloe! Just the girl I wanted to see,” Whitney said. “Do you know how to cook?”
“A little. Why?” I tucked my hands into my pockets and leaned against the counter island.
“Because I volunteered us to make dinner tonight.” She flitted around the kitchen.
Within seconds, everything had been put away. My head spun at how fast they all moved, and not once did they bump into each other.
“Um, why?” I asked.
“I thought it would be fun.” She leaned her elbows on the counter and dropped her chin into her hands. “And it will give us a chance to talk.”
“Okay, but Jax is the culinary expert. Why doesn’t he cook?”
Jax glanced at me over his shoulder, a faint smile plastered on his face, a smile that said we had a shared secret. “Apparently, us guys are on clean-up duty tonight.”
“Oh.”
“Besides, as the only human in the house, you should do something to earn your keep,” Jax said, not bothering to look at me.
But I scowled at him, even though he couldn’t see me. What had crawled up his butt?
“It’ll be fun. Don’t worry.” Whitney playfully swatted at me. “And we’re cooking something easy—spaghetti.”
“You can still mess up pasta. Trust me,” I said.
Jax laughed, but it wasn’t the same easy laugh from earlier—it was downright mean. “Speaking from experience?”
I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed harder, the sound morphing into something nicer, more genuine. Whitney watched our exchange too closely.
I pushed away from the counter. “So, when do we start?”
“Right now.” She zipped around the kitchen, gathering supplies that she piled on the counter near the sink. “C’mon.”
I tossed a glance at Trent, who simply grinned at me. Well, he was going to be no help.
“Okay, what do you want me to do?” I asked.
Whitney handed me a massive package of ground sausage, a can of breadcrumbs, and a seasoning packet. “Mix all this together with two eggs. Then start rolling some meatballs.”
I dug around through the cabinets until I found a mixing bowl. Dumping everything into it, I pushed up my sleeves and used my hands to mix. The meat was cold, and my fingers started to go numb. Once all the ingredients were blended, I washed my hands under a stream of hot water, flexing my fingers to get some feeling back in them.
As I dried my hands, I surveyed the kitchen. Where exactly was I supposed to put the meatballs once I made them? I tossed the dish towel on the counter.
“Here.” Whitney set a cookie sheet in front of me. “Line it with foil, then spray it with cooking oil.” She spun around to resume whatever it was she was doing.
I stared at her, biting back any thoughts that wanted to pop up. “Thanks,” I said.
Busying myself with rolling meatballs, my mind wandered, and every time I even started to think about my current situation, I built a metal cage and locked those thoughts up tight. Instead, I
