Love Next Door (Lakeside #1) by Helena Hunting

But as soon as he’s close enough, he clutches my arm and nearly pulls me in with him. I end up having to shimmy along the edge until the water is shallow enough for him to stand. Even then, he struggles, likely because he’s trying to walk on a casted leg and the bottom of the lake is full of rocks and sticks.

“I’m gonna get in and help you back to shore, okay?” I kick off my shoes and pull my shirt over my head before I join him in the water. The temperature has definitely dropped over the last few days, both in and out of the water, and goose bumps break across my skin as I sling his arm around my shoulder. He leans on me for support, and by the time I finally get him out of the water, he’s shivering.

I force him to sit down so he doesn’t do any more damage to himself.

“What the hell were you thinking? It’s dark, you can’t see a damn thing, and you have a freaking cast!” My shorts are suctioned to my legs, and the cool breeze coming off the water sends a shiver down my spine.

“I needed to shower, and I can’t use the one in the house,” he mumbles.

I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Why? Is it broken?” I nab my T-shirt from the dock and pat his shoulders to dry him off.

“Might as well be. They’re planting bugs.” The words are hard to make out because they’re slurring together and he’s mumbling. “I saw that man in the driveway this afternoon, talking to Dee. He must be a fed or something. He’s been watching me. They all have.”

“He’s not a fed; he’s my brother and an asshole. Raise your arms, please.”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

I hold up his discarded shirt. “You’re cold, and it doesn’t look like you brought a towel down with you, so you should put this on.”

His teeth clack a few times before he finally lifts his arms in the air, allowing me to pull his shirt over his head. It hangs off him, his collarbones poking out like hanger wire.

“He’s still probably working for the feds, though. That’s what they do. They make you think they’re just your family, and then they sell you out. Dee lived in the city for years. She has to have connections. She might not even know she has them.”

I’m struggling to understand what he’s talking about. I have to wonder if he’s been smoking the reefer in addition to whatever he’s been drinking. “Why would Dillion have connections to the feds?”

“It’s all connected. Everything is. They brainwash you and make you believe they’re good, and they’re not. Even my mom is working for them. The diner is a cover.”

Dillion mentioned being worried about her brother, and now I have to question if she’s right to be concerned. Nothing Billy says makes sense, and most of it seems to be rooted in paranoia.

Something I’m familiar with.

Thankfully not at this level, though.

“We gotta get you back up to the house, Billy.”

“Nope. No way. It’s bugged. They’re watching me. They can hear my thoughts.”

Not for much longer if he pulls another stunt like this and drowns in the freaking lake.





CHAPTER 25

OH, BROTHER

Dillion

“What do you mean he’s not in his room? Where would he go? Did one of his friends pick him up? Did you try his phone?” I’m grabbing a drink with Tawny and Allie when my mother calls me, frantic because she can’t find my brother.

“He said he was going to take a shower, but that was more than an hour ago,” my mom says, her voice wavering. “I thought maybe he was planning to see friends, but we called everyone, and no one has heard from him. I called him, but he’s not picking up. Maybe he’s hanging out with someone we haven’t thought to call.”

“I’ll be home in ten.” I throw a twenty on the table and grab my purse. “I gotta go, Billy’s missing.”

Allie tries to hand me back the money. “Did one of the guys he hangs with pick him up?”

I shake my head, both to taking the money and the friend situation. “None of the guys have seen him. He said he was going to take a shower, and now they have no idea where he is.”

“Is there anywhere you want us to look?” Tawny asks.

“Maybe the beach? Although I don’t know how he’d get there unless someone is covering for him. I can’t see him getting very far with a freaking cast. I’ll call you if I find him.”

“And we’ll call you if we hear anything from anyone.”

“Thanks.” I rush out of the bar and hop into the truck, putting it in gear before I even have my seat belt fastened. I take the roads faster than I should, terrified that something has happened to my brother. He’s been home for weeks, and other than Bernie’s, he’s only gone to the beach party and the bar. Both times he got passed-out drunk. He hasn’t been seeing friends at all, come to think of it.

My heart is in my throat the entire drive home, and when I get there, both my mom and dad have their phones to their ears. I make a beeline for Billy’s room and nearly gag when I open the door. It smells like body odor, cheese, feet, and stale beer. There’s a black garbage bag beside his bed, and if I had to guess, I’d say that’s most definitely the source of the stale-beer smell.

I grab a corner of his sheet and tug, pulling it free from the mattress. Underneath are a whole bunch of nudie magazines and used tissues, which is gross, but what’s more worrisome are the books on spy theory. Billy has always been fascinated by conspiracy theories, but lately he’s been more paranoid than I remember him ever being before. I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to it than just the books he’s reading.