Before You Read online

  Contents

  Playlist

  Prologue

  1. Billie

  2. Jared

  3. Honey

  4. Billie

  5. Jared

  6. Billie

  7. Honey

  8. Jared

  9. Billie

  10. Honey

  11. Jared

  12. Honey

  13. Billie

  14. Honey

  15. Jared

  16. Honey

  17. Billie

  18. Honey

  19. Jared

  20. Billie

  21. Honey

  22. Billie

  23. Jared

  24. Honey

  25. Billie

  26. Jared

  27. Billie

  28. Honey

  29. Jared

  30. Billie

  31. Jared

  32. Honey

  33. Billie

  34. Jared

  35. Honey

  36. Billie

  37. Jared

  38. Billie

  39. Jared

  40. Honey

  41. Billie

  42. Jared

  43. Honey

  44. Jared

  45. Billie

  46. Honey

  47. Jared

  48. Honey

  49. Jared

  50. Billie

  51. Jared

  52. Honey

  53. Billie

  54. Jared

  55. Honey

  56. Jared

  57. Honey

  58. Jared

  59. Honey

  60. Billie

  61. Honey

  62. Billie

  63. Honey

  64. Billie

  65. Honey

  66. Billie

  67. Honey

  68. Jared

  69. Billie

  70. Jared

  71. Billie

  72. Jared

  73. Jared

  74. Jared

  75. Billie

  76. Jared

  77. Billie

  78. Jared

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Newsletter

  Marni’s Midnighters

  About the Author

  Also by Marni Mann

  Even If It Hurts

  Sneak Peek of When Ashes Fall

  Copyright © 2019 by Marni Mann

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Visit my website at: www.MarniSMann.com

  Cover Designer: Hang Le, By Hang Le, www.byhangle.com

  Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  Proofreader: Judy’s Proofreading, Tandy Proofreads, and Kaitie Reister

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  ISBN-13: 978-1692616434

  For you, Dad, and to food. Because it’s our thing.

  Playlist

  “Nightmare”—Halsey

  “Graves”—Echos

  “Daddy Lessons”—Beyoncé

  “Drinkin’ Too Much”—Sam Hunt

  “Seven Devils”—Florence + The Machine

  “Let Me Down Slowly”—Alec Benjamin

  “Broken”—Lund

  “The Half”—Ruben

  “Wild Enough”—Elina

  “My Blood”—Echos

  “6 Inch”—Beyoncé, Featuring The Weeknd

  Prologue

  Portland, Maine - Spring 1989

  “Do you think Casey will be at school today?” Brandon asked his girlfriend as he pulled into the third row of the student lot, parking on the end.

  As juniors, the three of them had two weeks left before summer break. This time next year, they would be graduating like the seniors had yesterday. Once they received their diplomas, Brandon and his girlfriend would pack a suitcase and move to California, a plan they’d hatched their freshman year when they started dating.

  “No,” she replied, staring out the windshield, shaking her head. “I have a feeling we’re never going to see Casey again.”

  When Brandon had heard about what had happened to their best friend the night of the party, he had been in his room with his girl, sleeping. Had it been any other morning, Brandon’s mother would have been furious to find him in bed with her. She wasn’t allowed to stay the night. But that morning, Brandon’s mother didn’t yell, nor did she mention it when she shook her son awake. In a quiet, calm voice, she told them everything she had heard about Casey.

  The two women immediately started to cry.

  Not Brandon. He rose from his bed and paced the small space between his nightstand and closet, trying to process the news. When his mother wasn’t able to answer any of the questions he’d asked, he rushed downstairs to the phone in the kitchen and called Casey’s house.

  No one picked up, not even the answering machine.

  Brandon then tried calling one of his friends to see if they had heard anything. And that was how he ended up spending his whole day, reaching out to everyone whose number he had, listening to their version of the story.

  One thing they all agreed on: no one had heard from Casey since the party.

  After nightfall, Brandon and his girl drove to Casey’s house. His other friends had already done the same, but Brandon was hoping their outcome would be different. Except, when they got there, there weren’t any lights on inside, the front door was locked, and no one responded to the doorbell. They went around back, and Brandon threw a rock at Casey’s window. He’d waited several minutes, tossing more rocks, before it was time for them to leave.

  “You really think …” Brandon started to reply, his voice drifting off as he considered the possibility of never hanging out with their best friend again. When it all really hit him, he gripped the steering wheel and shouted, “Fuck!”

  “It could have happened to any of us … you know that,” she said softly.

  They had all been at the party that night. It was held in the same field every year, the Friday before graduation. Everyone went—high schoolers, alumni, friends from surrounding towns. It was tradition. And in all the years, there had never been an incident.

  Until now.

  Brandon reached across the front seat and squeezed her hand, really feeling the weight of it all. “Thank God it didn’t happen to us.”

  Some stories had the power to change lives forever.

  This story changed an entire town.

  One

  Billie

  “What I would have given to put my lips around that rack of lamb,” Ally said through the speaker of my phone.

  I laughed at my best friend’s response to the picture I’d posted this morning. Her appreciation of food had grown over the years because of me. The girl I’d met all those years ago didn’t know jelly came in flavors other than grape.

  “It was succulent,” I told her, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath as though the plate were still in front of me. “The whole meal was beyond words.” When I opened my lids again, I put the last packing cube into my suitcase and zipped it shut. “I convinced the chef to give me the recipe for his brussels sprouts. I’m going to make them for our next girls’ night.”

  “Which is when?”

  I pressed th
e screen of my phone as it sat on a shoe shelf, scrolling through my schedule. “How’s the eighteenth?”

  “That’s two weeks away, Billie.”

  I checked again, trying to see if I could move anything around. “You know I’d make it sooner if I could.”

  “I know, babe. Put us in for the eighteenth. I’ll text the girls once we get off the phone to let them know.”

  Ally and I had been roommates all four years at NYU and for another five after we graduated. Then, at twenty-seven, we finally got our own apartments. Mine was a loft in Greenwich Village where I’d lived for the last three years. Ally’s was a studio on the Upper West Side, which she shared with her boyfriend. He was now her husband, and I had three plants—all of them herbs.

  I blocked off the whole night and clicked out of the app. “You’re in my calendar.”

  “So, where are you headed to now, Miss Wanderlust?”

  “San Francisco, and it’s Italian,” I said, referring to the restaurant I would be reviewing, as I walked into the kitchen.

  In college, whenever I had eaten out, I would take pictures and rate the food, posting it on social media. It was a passion that had slowly morphed into a career, and now, I was a full-time food vlogger. I was hired by restaurants all over the country to eat and review their cuisine, sharing it with my followers that was nearing toward ten million.

  “One of your favorites.” There was a crinkle of paper in the background and then the sound of heavy, sticky chewing.

  “What are you eating?”

  “Gooey red fish.”

  I had poured myself a glass of wine and opened the containers of Szechuan pork and sautéed baby bok choy with garlic before I started packing. Now that it had cooled down, I grabbed the chopsticks and gave the food a quick stir.

  “You’re not late … are you?” I asked before putting the first bite in my mouth.

  “I just came off birth control two months ago. It can’t happen that fast.”

  But it could, and she knew that.

  And I was pretty sure it had because, “Ally, you’re eating candy.”

  She didn’t have a taste for sweets, not even cake on her birthday.

  “Oh my God.” Each chew sounded like a suction cup. “I didn’t even realize I’d opened the bag, but I’ve been standing in front of the fridge, popping them in my mouth like freaking popcorn.”

  “I know. The entire world can hear you eating.”

  “Sooorry.” She paused. “You really think I’m pregnant? No. I can’t be. I …” The noise intensified, telling me she’d put more in her mouth. “I’m about to eat this entire bag, Billie, and then I’m going to walk to the bodega on the next block and buy another one.”

  I pulled up a delivery app on my phone, added five bags of gooey red fish and three pregnancy tests to my cart, and gave them Ally’s address before I submitted the order.

  “No need,” I said, returning to the chopsticks, using them to take another bite. “There will be some delivered to your apartment in about twenty minutes.”

  “I love you.”

  My swallow ended with a sigh. “It’s for missing your doctor’s appointment that I have a feeling you’ll be going to in the next few days.”

  Robert would be taking her—I was sure of that—but I wanted to be there after to celebrate.

  And I wouldn’t be.

  This was one of the downfalls of my career—missing things at home when work required me to be away so much. But traveling was part of the job, and I loved it just as much.

  There was a balance, and most of the time, I found it.

  “Do you really think we’re having a baby?” she asked softly.

  The emotion in her voice worked its way into my chest. Ally had wanted a baby for as long as I’d known her. It might have happened quickly, but the years it had taken to get here weren’t fast at all.

  I waited until my chest calmed down before I said, “I’m already planning what I’m going to serve at the shower.”

  “I just got hungrier.”

  “I’ll order you more—”

  “Listen to me, Billie Paige. I’m not going to be the girl who gains a hundred pounds with her first pregnancy. Do you hear me?”

  “Okay, okay.” I laughed, tossing the empty containers into the trash and carrying the wine into my bedroom. “Text me the second you know something.”

  “It won’t be until the morning. Robert is working tonight, and I want to wait for him.”

  “Hopefully, the Wi-Fi won’t be spotty on the plane because that’s most likely where I’ll be when you find out.”

  “You won’t need a signal; you’ll hear me scream all the way in the sky.”

  I smiled as I climbed into bed. “I feel bad for the world when you go into labor.”

  “Very funny.” She chewed again, groaning as she swallowed. “Thanks for the candy, asshole.”

  “Love you,” I said and hung up.

  That was our friendship. Like a spicy tuna roll—simple with a kick.

  Two

  Jared

  I carried my briefcase and wheeled a small carry-on through the lobby of my building, nodding at the doorman before I went outside.

  My driver had parked the SUV along the curb and was standing next to the backseat, opening the door for me. “Good morning, Mr. Morgan.”

  I gave him both handles, freeing my hands. “Morning, Tony.”

  I climbed into the back, taking the New York Times off the other seat and placing it in my lap. It was crisp and unopened—the way I liked my paper every morning, how Tony always brought it.

  “Your assistant sent your flight information,” he said as he got in the driver’s seat. “I just want to confirm you’re taking a commercial flight out of JFK?”

  I glanced up from above the fold, catching his stare in the rearview.

  He’d been driving me for a long time. Ten years at least.

  If he hadn’t asked, he wouldn’t be doing his job.

  “That’s correct,” I said.

  I turned off the small reading light and looked out my window just as Tony was merging onto the road. Manhattan looked like a cave at this time of the day. Buildings blocked out the moonlight, and the sun hadn’t yet risen in the fall sky.

  It was too early to be awake.

  But if I wasn’t on my way to the airport, I probably wouldn’t be asleep anyway.

  As we turned onto the Belt Parkway, my cell vibrated from the inside pocket of my suit. I reached for it, smiling as I held the phone to my ear.

  “Marcus.” It was still the middle of the night on the West Coast, but I wasn’t surprised my longtime friend wasn’t sleeping.

  “On your way to JFK?”

  I checked the window to my left as Tony switched lanes. “That’s right.”

  “Jared, I feel awful about this, but I’m not going to be able to pick you up at the airport. I’m going to send one of my guys. He’ll be right outside baggage claim. I’ll text you his car and plate—”

  “Don’t worry; my assistant took care of all that.”

  “I feel terrible,” he said. “I’m the whole reason you’re coming out here, and none of this would even be happening if it wasn’t for you.”

  Over the years, I’d watched the different stages of Marcus’s career as he worked his way through the industry, gaining more knowledge and responsibility.

  Now, he was the boss I had known he would be.

  “Nonsense,” I said, meaning it. “Go get some rest. I need you alive for the next few days.”

  He laughed. “See you soon, buddy.”

  I hung up and grabbed the coffee Tony had gotten for me, taking a drink of it while he drove us deeper into Brooklyn. Most mornings, the bitter black brew would have been the perfect addition to the paper as I finished both in the backseat before I boarded my company’s private jet.

  This morning wasn’t like most.

  And what I wished were in this cup was a liquor so smoky and dominant, it wou
ld force me to relax, so I wouldn’t think about the real reason I was getting on this plane. The one that had nothing to do with seeing Marcus.

  Nothing in this world was strong enough to take those thoughts away.

  Not even whiskey.

  “Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Morgan?”

  I glanced at the darkened sky, my hand tightening around the hot cup. “You can turn on the radio.”

  “The news channel you usually listen to?”

  My gaze dropped to the sign that said we were twelve miles from the airport. “No, find some rock,” I told him. “And, Tony?” I took a breath. “Play it loud.”

  Three

  Honey