Unraveling Blake Earnshaw Book 1: The Rich Prick by Keilan Shea

Author:Keilan Shea [Shea, Keilan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Hard-Earned Happily Ever Afters
Published: 2020-10-12T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

It’s the end of my first day back among the living world and I’ve already ruined it all.

My skin is sticky, plastered against the hardwood floor where I lie inside the locked bedroom. It used to belong to Johan’s older sister, Rosemary. She’s all about functionality and cleanliness, as if she’s been drilled on it her whole life under the grueling guidance of a father who served in the military—which isn’t true. Rosemary and Johan’s father is a laid-back pediatrician who sometimes gets revved up about football.

Maybe I should move, but I can’t find the strength to do any more than lie here. Harvey is going to throw me into therapy again. Johan could be ratting me out right now. We’ve all turned into liars, so why not double-crossers too? They’re doing it to “help” me, but there is no helping me.

I hold Mom’s locket to my chest. It’s because of my body heat, but it’s warm.

Why did Jeffery Earnshaw have to fuck everything up by lighting this fire? Why did Blake Earnshaw have to stoke the flames? Why can’t things wait to change until after I’m dead too so that it’s not my responsibility to fight them?

“I’m trying to atone,” I say and rub my thumb against smooth gold. “I’m trying to protect your memories. I’m so sorry, but I’m also so tired.”

A soul-deep ache cuts through the numbness. It’s something that can’t be located or abated. It just is, and it’s unbearable. It gets me teetering off the floor, dressed, and out of the bedroom.

Johan left the hall light on for me, but otherwise, the mansion is asleep. I cling to the balustrade as I descend the central staircase and then navigate my way to the main kitchen. The heavy door leading to the cellar is locked, but I know where the key is. It’s in a small safe on the top shelf above the oven. I grab a chair, climb up to retrieve the box, and input the combination required to open it.

Rosemary was something of a bad example when she was still living at home—before moving away from Raindrop to become a private investigator. She’s mischievous, good at discovering and uncovering secrets. Johan isn’t, but she liked to play a game with him. She’d leave him clues to the secrets she wanted to share, as many as it took until he discovered them for himself. Because of that, I’m about to raid the Radebaughs’ liquor stash.

With the fancy vintage key in hand, I unlock the cellar door to reveal a steep staircase. It’s pitch-black down there, so I tap the switches on the wall. I can’t remember which one I need. When a light flickers from far below, I call it good enough and go. My hand glides across cool stones as I descend.

When I take the last step and emerge into the light, the first thing that catches my eye is a wine rack. I indiscriminately select a bottle of white wine. It’s a struggle to open until I find a corkscrew in a wooden chest sitting between the racks.

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