The Ex

by Freida McFadden

They say there’s a thin line between love and hate. In those few seconds between when Joel stood up and when the door to the restaurant slammed behind him, my love for Joel Broder started to morph into hatred.

And she can’t risk a cop getting a look at what’s in her apartment. That would potentially be… bad. Very bad.

There’s blood all over the door. All over the door and all over the glass windows. The entire entrance to her store is soaked in dried crimson. She takes a step back, her entire body shaking. Who would do something like that? And why? It’s not like she has any enemies. Unless… No. Not that. Nobody knows about that.

Zoe doesn’t know the truth. There’s only one reason the bookstore hasn’t gone under, and it’s something Cassie can never tell her about.

Don’t get old. How do you keep from getting old? Everyone ages, so the only way to keep from getting old is to die young.

And if they come inside, they might find what Grandpa Marv left behind.

Francesca, aka Olive, stares at me, her eyes unkind. She doesn’t smile. She never smiles, as far as I’ve seen. When I look at her, she radiates evil. I know that sounds crazy, but she does.

Francesca. If I’ve ever had a mortal enemy, it’s her. I step inside the apartment and she regards me coolly. She folds her arms across her chest and stands up an inch straighter, as if she didn’t already tower over me. “Hello, Anna,” she says.

I’ve become friends with Joel again in the last year. I’ve been rooting for him and Cassie. I want him to be as deliriously in love as I am with Dean. I want that so much. Cassie doesn’t seem like the paranoid type—if she believes someone is trying to kill her, she’s probably right. And I know who that person is.

Each time she made a transaction, she would tell herself it was the last one. But what choice did she have? Without that extra money, her business was gone. She couldn’t lose her grandparents’ store. But she hated it. Every day, she was terrified of the police banging on her door.

As long as they don’t ever cross me again.