hen I got back to Lillian’s house, I did something that I hadn’t done once since the night of the masquerade. I pulled up the Secrets on My Skin website. The most recent entry—Campbell’s—stared back at me.

He made me hurt you.

He as in the senator? You as in Nick? The story the latter had told me fresh in my mind, I scrolled back to the very first Secrets post and looked at the date.

“One does not wish to question your life choices,” Lily said from behind me. “However…”

“However,” I suggested, “this one involves you?”

In the photo I’d just pulled up, my cousin was wearing nothing but a threadbare towel. The words inscribed on her chest, just under her collarbone and above the edge of the towel, were: I am broken inside.

“How long after Walker broke up with you did you post this?” I asked. I had a theory about why Lily had started this blog—why she’d needed to.

Lily ran one finger lightly over the picture. “One week.”

I reverse engineered the timeline in my mind: A week before Lily had posted this entry, Walker Ames had broken up with her. He’d dropped out of college. He’d started going out of his way to make sure that people didn’t see the golden boy when they looked at him.

Two days before that, an unidentified car had plowed into Colt Ryan.

The details Nick had given me were bare-bones: His brother had gotten ill and left work early. He’d had to walk from the club to the bus stop.

Almost the entire two-mile stretch was owned by Northern Ridge.

I know there was an event at Northern Ridge that night, Campbell had said. I know that a lot of people weren’t in any shape to drive.

Nick had taken over his brother’s job because he’d believed the person responsible for the accident was coming from that party. He’d wanted to find the SOB who’d left his brother, half-broken, on the side of the road.

He’d believed that the police couldn’t be trusted to do it.

When Campbell had flirted with him, he’d responded with the hope of gleaning some information about the party that night.

“Two days before Walker broke up with you…” I forced myself to focus on the here and now, on Lily. “Did you go to an event at the club?”

“What is going on with you?” Lily frowned.

“Just think,” I told her. “Two days before Walker broke up with you.”

Lily didn’t have to think very hard. “The wedding.”

“What wedding?” I could feel my pulse start to tick upward.

“Sadie-Grace’s father’s,” Lily said.

Greer’s, my mind amended. I tried to fit this information into what I already knew—and what I didn’t.

“Was Walker at the wedding?” I asked. “Was Campbell?”

The questions must have seemed random to Lily, but she answered—in the affirmative.

Lots of people were there that night, I told myself—but lots of people hadn’t begun a downward spiral almost immediately thereafter. Lots of people hadn’t leapt into a physical relationship with the hit-and-run victim’s brother—and then framed him for theft.

Lots of people weren’t paying for Colt Ryan’s care.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Sawyer Ann.”

I met my cousin’s deep brown eyes. I told her what Nick had told me—and then I spelled out exactly what I was thinking.

“I’m guessing that either Campbell or Walker was driving that car.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Lily said immediately.

“Colt Ryan had a dog named Sophie,” I responded. “Nick said that her collar broke that morning. Colt took it to work to fix it.” I held Lily’s gaze in my own. “After the hit and run, the collar was nowhere to be found, but somehow, the tag ended up in Campbell’s locker.”

Maybe that was a coincidence. Maybe Walker’s downward spiral was nothing more than a pre-college meltdown.

“Sawyer.” Lily stared down at her hands.

“What?”

Lily took long enough to reply that I wasn’t sure she was going to. “When Campbell started blackmailing me,” she said faintly, “I wondered how she figured out I was the one behind Secrets. Why she cared who was posting.”

“What does that have to do—” I started to ask, but I cut off when Lily left the room.

When she returned, she was holding the tablet she’d used for Secrets tight with both hands. She sat down beside me, then quietly pulled up the queue—the posts she hadn’t gotten around to publishing.

“What if the reason Campbell wanted to figure out who was behind Secrets was because there was a secret she didn’t want to get out?” Lily pressed her lips together. “I remember all of the submissions I got. Every one.” She pulled up a picture in the queue and turned the tablet toward me.

In this particular shot, she was lying prone, her back arched and her hands digging into what appeared to be sand. Her head was thrown back and chopped out of the shot. The message was vertical, starting on one arm and continuing on the other.

I was driving.

In isolation, that sentence seemed benign. But knowing what we knew…

“You think Campbell sent this secret in and then regretted it?” I asked Lily. “Or do you think…”

Do you think it was Walker?

“I don’t know,” Lily said quietly. She straightened, her chin jutting out. “I do know that we can’t sit here all day asking questions we have no way of answering.”

“Wanna bet?”

“I’m sure you haven’t forgotten what this afternoon is,” Lily replied, which, of course, meant that she was sure I had. “We have our second-to-last Deb event, excepting the ball.”

My first instinct was to tell her where she could shove that reminder—and the event—but my next instinct was more mathematical. Deb event = mandatory attendance. Mandatory attendance = Campbell’s presence.

Campbell’s presence = answers.

“I can honestly say,” I told Lily, “that I’ve never found myself so motivated to attend a party in my life.”

“Not a party.” Lily wasn’t a person who smirked, but she came very, very close.

I didn’t trust that expression. “What are we doing?”

She rose to her feet and turned before answering. I could only make out one word, and that word…

Was spa.