Her First Mistake Carey Baldwin (ereader with dictionary TXT) 📖

Today, his eyes reminded her of the ocean, probably because they were at the beach—in this light, they seemed bluer than usual.

“You want another beer before we go? I won’t be partaking, of course, but I don’t mind sitting with you while you do.”

That pleasurable feeling, low in her belly, took an ominous turn. Had he been watching, perhaps listening, without being seen? “Who said I had a beer already?”

“You said you were meeting a friend at the beach for a beer, so I just assumed.”

“No thanks. I’m good. Were you able to get a truck?”

“Parked on Mission. Anytime you’re ready. But you’re gonna need shoes. Let’s hope they’re still where you left them. If you ask me, you’re too trusting by a mile.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to wait until your new apartment is ready and then come back for this?” Aunt Misty looked at Isaiah and Mia like they were planning to heist the crown jewels instead of moving an old chest full of moth-eaten garments no one had the heart to throw away.

“It might make more sense, but I don’t want to wait. I want something of hers with me,” Mia said. It would be different if she had pictures and family mementos—like normal people did, but she didn’t. “Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. The other day, I was thinking about mother’s bracelet—it was silver.”

“With three charms—a star, a heart and a cross.” Aunt Misty looked away and then back, pushed her hair off her forehead.

“That’s what I remembered. She used to wear it all the time when Granddad was alive. But after that, I don’t think she wore it anymore. Do you know what happened to it?”

“It was sterling silver so it was worth a little money. I’m sure she sold it—maybe for food or more likely beer. That bracelet was my mother’s—your grandmother’s. She left it to Emily because she was the oldest and because she had a daughter. It was meant to be passed on to you, someday.”

The tone of Aunt Misty’s voice, the slight tremor in her shoulders, told Mia this was a sore subject—one she shouldn’t bring up again unless she wanted to cause her pain. “Okay. Don’t worry about it. I just wondered.”

Isaiah sat on the bed and put his hands behind his head. Aunt Misty raised her eyebrows.

He lay back, taunting her, stretching out, putting his shoes on the bedspread.

Aunt Misty glared at him. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

If he was trying to get rid of her aunt, it worked. “We’ll call you if we need anything,” Mia said.

Once the door closed, Isaiah scrambled to his feet and crossed the room. Rattled the knob. “This thing lock?”

“Nope.”

He came closer, and Mia backed up. He straightened his arms, caging her between his body and the wall. “So what do you do when you have a guy over?”

Heat radiated off his body, warming her. She felt an ache in her solar plexus. “I don’t.”

“Never?”

“I don’t mean I’ve never. I’m saying if I have a friend, I don’t bring him here.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” She stared at his parted lips. She didn’t have a lot of experience, but she had enough to know if she didn’t stop him, he was going to kiss her. It took her a moment but she lifted her hand and gently shoved him back. “I don’t think this chest will be too heavy for us to lift.”

He stepped away and combed his fingers through his hair. “What’s in it? If you don’t mind my saying so, you and your aunt are both acting weird about this chest.”

“These are my mother’s things—it’s really all I have left of her. Maybe your mother mentioned to you…”

He moved behind her, and his breath whispered over her scalp. “Yeah, she told me about your mother. And I want you to know I’m here if you need me to listen, or, for anything else.”

She turned to face him.

He bent until his forehead touched hers. “And Mia,” he whispered. “At our house, there’s a lock on your bedroom door.”

Thirty-Five

Tuesday

Last night, in the Coopers’ guest suite, with her mother’s hope chest resting at the foot of her bed, Mia had slept fitfully. But this morning, she’d woken up knowing what she had to do. And that sureness brought with it a sense of peace.

In a way, Keisha had freed her.

Paying off Keisha today would not ensure her silence tomorrow. Of that, Mia was certain. And that left her with no other choice than to tell the truth—that acting on her worst impulse, she’d stolen Celeste’s keys.

Not having to keep that terrible secret—even the anticipation of not having to keep it—made Mia eager for the day to begin. But it wasn’t going to be easy to tell Alma and Detective Samuels. Somehow, Mia would have to convince the detective that she’d just made a mistake rather than his worst-case scenario—she’d have to make him see she had nothing to do with Celeste’s disappearance. But if the evidence pointed to a serial killer, that shouldn’t be impossible.

As for the Coopers, Mia had come to a realization:

True friendship can’t be built on deception.

Secrets and lies are a lethal poison, and if Mia kept on drinking from that well, their friendship wouldn’t survive. Alma, Baxter, Isaiah and Angelica all had the right to choose, based on the truth, whether they wanted Mia in their lives.

If they cast her out, so be it. She would keep them close in her heart and do all she could to find Celeste. She had to admit the truth. Alma should hear it directly from Mia—before anyone else, and first thing this morning.

Her hand trembled as she buttoned her blouse, and then pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Her face looked pale in the mirror, so she added an extra swipe of blush and a touch of pink lipstick.

Someone knocked at