“Sutton, what’s wrong?” I ask.

“Georgia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear to you that I didn’t know.”

Every fiber in my body warns me of danger—to get up and flee from the scene of a crime I can’t identify. But before I can even question her regarding her apology, the door opens behind her.

“Please,” Sutton pleads, her gaze holding mine. “Please believe me. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what?” I ask, my heart pounding so hard that I can hear my blood pulse through my ears.

Goose bumps prickle my skin as I slowly turn to my left.

No. No, no, no.

“Georgia?” Ripley’s voice is a note too high. “What are you doing here?”

I avoid his eyes and keep mine glued to Sutton. “Is this a sick joke?”

“I’m so sorry.”

My hands press against the cool stone table, and I shove away from it. I stand, wobbling for a split second on my heels, and send a bewildered look at my so-called best friend.

“What is this?” I ask, my voice rising. “Why is he here?”

Ripley steps into view. “Someone needs to explain.”

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