Death by Scones by Jennifer Fischetto Read Free Book Online Page A

comfortable.
    Jared handed me the pizza and the other items and joined me. We scooted to the edge, just past the branches of my neighbor's ginormous maple tree, to where we could see part of Two Mile Beach. Danger Cove's shoreline was naturally broken up into sections by rock formations and the marina. From our vantage point, the sunlight made the sand glisten. I bet it would've been warm under my toes. Any other day I'd walk over and see for myself. Luscious waves crashed onto the shimmering sand. They appeared almost angry. Maybe nature reacted to death too.
    After Mom and Dad had died, I'd sat out here all the time. It was my private space in the world, where I could be alone and stare at the water. No one would bother me and ask me how I was doing or if I was okay. I knew they meant well, but after a while those questions had left me frustrated. No, I wasn't okay, and there was nothing anyone could do to make it okay. And when Grams had gotten on my case about grades or chores, and rightfully so, I'd escape for a bit.
    When things had settled down and became more normal and routine, I'd used our neighbor's maple to sneak out. The closest branch hung a good five feet from the roof, but back then I hadn't cared if I jumped and missed. I'd been brave or reckless. Didn't most kids think they were invincible? I never missed though, and it left me with a feeling of power and control—something sorely missing from my life then. Now it looked ten miles away, and the only way I'd consider jumping toward it was if my life depended on it.
    Jared pulled a slice of mushroom and sausage pizza out of the box, laid it on a plate, and handed it to me. "Do you want to talk about it more?"
    I stared at the greasy cheese and shook my head. "Not now. I just want to relax." Tara had been right. I needed to clear my head. "Tell me all about you. Why are you back?"
    "Believe it or not, I'd had enough."
    I widened my eyes, mostly because I bit into my slice, and the cheese was so hot I had to swish it around my mouth or suffer third-degree burns.
    "The auditions, the competition, the rejections. It wears you out," he said and bit into his slice as if his mouth was made of steel. He didn't look upset though. Jared had always been a meticulous planner. He hadn't liked leaving things up to chance. So when he planned to move to New York, straight out of college, to pursue a career on Broadway, everyone thought he'd gone temporarily insane. There was no predictability with an acting career. It was mostly luck.
    "You must've been thinking about this for a while," I said and blew on my slice.
    He nodded. "Actually, for about a year."
    Wow. He hadn't mentioned it during our infrequent Skype chats or when he'd been home for Christmas last year. It saddened me to think how much we'd drifted over time.
    "What about you and Erin though?" I asked. Jared had met his girlfriend, Erin, in New York three years ago. They'd been dating all this time. Had she moved to Danger Cove with him?
    My stomach knotted at the thought, and I blamed the grease and the day. It was better than admitting that I hoped my best friend hadn't returned with the love of his life. Yes, I wanted to be able to hang out with both of my friends without their significant others in the way. Was that completely selfish?
    "We broke up," he said.
    Relief pulsed through me, and I had to bite my lower lip to keep my mouth from smiling. Yes, I was probably going to hell. "When?"
    He sipped his drink. "We'd been arguing and having problems for a while."
    The realization that he'd been in pain extinguished any other spark of glee in me. And it was another reminder of our distancing relationship. "I'm sorry I haven't kept in touch much."
    He looked up and frowned. "What do you mean?"
    His gaze was intense, and I suddenly felt foolish for bringing up my feelings while he spoke of his trauma, so I took a bite of my almost-not-scalding pizza and talked around the lump in my mouth. "We haven't talked as