Home > Secrets We Hunt (One Night #2)

Secrets We Hunt (One Night #2)
Author: Dana Isaly









Zoë rushes in, her skin flushed from running. Her curls float around her head like a wild halo, and she pushes them out of her face as she looks around. She yells my name between taking huge gulps of air.

“I’m right here, Zo,” I tell her, waving at her from where I’m sitting on the couch. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask her as I give her sweaty appearance a once-over.

“Look,” she says, making her way over to where I sit, holding a finger up at my face. “I ran all the way here, okay? Because my parents aren’t home, and I’m like ninety-nine percent sure I have a fucking mouse in my car.” She stares at me, and I stare at her. I bite my lip but can’t hold back the burst of laughter that came out.

“Wes,” she warns, trying to hold back her own laughter. “This isn’t funny. Get your butt up and come help me! Please!”

“What do you want me to do about it?” I ask her, my voice going a bit higher in pitch than I wanted it to.

“Set a trap or something! Just get it out!” She walks over to me and shakes me by my shoulders, causing the scent of whatever shampoo she used to invade my personal space. I swallow the urge to inhale and pull her closer. I shrug her off and stand up.

“Alright, wimpy. I’m sure Uncle Andrew has some traps out in the garage. Let’s grab one, and I’ll go set it up in your car. Should catch it overnight.”

“Is he home?” she asks, suddenly wrapping her arms around her chest. “He gives me the creeps.”

“Uncle Andrew does?” I couldn’t contain the shock in my tone. Zoë and I have been friends since my parents died and I moved into the neighborhood with my uncle eight years ago. She’s always been around him when hanging out with me and has never mentioned anything about it.

“Yeah,” she answers, looking around for him.

“No, he’s out with some friends for the evening. Why does he creep you out?” I ask as we make our way into the garage. I search through the shelves as she explains

“He’s always looking at me, and it’s not in a casual way. I always feel like he’s staring at me, leering at me or something, I don’t know. Have you never noticed?”

“What?” I laugh, pulling a trap out. “What do you mean he’s always looking at you?”

“Forget it,” she says, following me out of the garage. “So, we set that on the floor of the car and it’ll work?”

“Should,” I answer her as I look over at her, trying to decide whether or not I should push the issue about my uncle. He’s never given me any indication that he isn’t a normal, good person, but if my best friend feels weird around him, I kind of want to know why. “Zo,” I start, but she cuts me off with the wave of her hand.

“Forget it,” she says with a smile. “Seriously, it’s okay. Just me being dramatic.” She bats her eyelashes and bumps my shoulder as we make our way out of the house and down to hers. I snort.

“So, what did you do to get a mouse in your car?” I ask, changing the subject for her. “Leaving Sour Patch Watermelons in it again?”

“Ugh,” she groans. “Actually, yes. I went out before running over here because I wanted to get gas before school tomorrow. My watermelons were everywhere, Wes. Everywhere! And then I started looking around, and I saw little mouse poop and half-chewed-on watermelons. How do they even get in a damn car?”

“Just your luck, Zo-Zo,” I tell her, throwing my arm around her shoulders. Any sign of discomfort about my uncle seems to have left her as we make our way down the street. “You’re just insanely lucky that you have such a beefy, strong man right down the road to help the damsel in distress.”

She snorts, and I watch her cheeks blush a soft pink. It stirs something in my gut, but I push it away. I wasn’t about to ruin the only serious friendship I had by literally fucking it. I do love her in more ways than one, but I’m too much of a chickenshit to say something,

Zoë shrugs me off and takes a few steps to create some distance between us.

“You know this earns you lifelong friendship status, right?” she tells me as she gives me a corny smile.

“Promises, promises.” I wink at her, and she just rolls her eyes and takes off down the road.






Present Day. Off the coast of Greece for the wedding of Quinlan and Jack




“You have way too much fucking money,” I say to Jack as we all get dressed in the men’s rooms below deck. He laughs and looks over his shoulder at me.

“Even this was a stretch for me,” he says, straightening his shirt. “Between this weekend on the yacht and backpacking our way through Europe for the next month, I told her we are surviving off of ramen for a year.”

“I think we all know that isn’t true,” Greg scoffs. “You could travel around Europe in this damn yacht for a month and still be living just as high as you are now.”

Jack flips him off and turns back to me.

“I gotta ask. What’s up with the pants?” he asks.

“Honestly, I was wondering the same thing,” Pyro says, laughing. “They look more like something I would wear.”

“It’s fashion,” I tell them, doing a spin in my outfit and striking a stupid pose. I have fitted black-and-white striped pants on and a white short-sleeved button-up that shows off all my tattoos. “I’m here to woo one of Q’s bridesmaids, remember? I have to look the part.”

“That part for what?” Owen asks. “The lead in Beetlejuice?”

“How about we all just shut up and go get this asshole married?” I ask, clapping my hands on Jack’s shoulders. He looks at me in the mirror and nods with a smile.

We make our way up to the very top deck, where there’s the best view of the sunset on one side and Santorini on the other. The ceremony is small, just their closest friends and family on either side of the aisle. And as we all stand at the front, waiting for Quin and her bridesmaids, my eyes catch on wild brown hair at the back. I do a double take and try to crane my neck around all the people.

“What’re you doing?” Jack whispers as the music begins to play and the bridesmaids start down the aisle.

“Nothing,” I tell him, ignoring the pull in my stomach telling me I know those curls. Flashbacks of Zoë flood my mind, the way her hair smelled and the way she laughed when she thought something I said was really funny. She would throw her head back, and the loudest cackle would burst from her throat. It was obnoxious and embarrassing and so fucking Zoë it hurt.

But there’s no way she could be at my best friend’s wedding on his yacht in Greece. To my knowledge, they don’t even know each other.

Could she know Quin?

After the ceremony, everyone makes their way down to the deck below, where the food and drinks are being served, along with a makeshift dance floor. My eyes keep glancing around, trying to find the girl from earlier, with no luck. I probably look like a crazy person, not paying attention to anything going on around me other than trying to find out whether or not Zoë is here.

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