The Vanishing Girls Of Willow Creek (Willow Creek, #1)

Chapter Four

Life and death were so unpredictable. So close to each other. We existed moment to moment, never knowing who would be the next to leave this world. - Richelle Mead

We had completely lost track of time in the bakery. It was almost seven before we got to my house.

As we settled in the living room, wrapped in a cozy comforter, the weight of the day's events lingered in the air.

The disappearance of Miranda had cast a shadow over our small town, leaving unanswered questions and unsettling thoughts.

"I'm so lazy," I sighed, breaking the silence that enveloped us.

Jon chuckled softly. "After today, I'd be surprised if you weren't." His expression suddenly grew serious. "Did you notice how none of Miranda's friends looked bothered by her disappearance?" His voice was laced with suspicion. "It was like they knew something we didn't."

His eyes held a haunted look as he spoke of Miranda's friends' indifferent reactions to her disappearance.

Something about their nonchalant demeanour gnawed at me, sending a shiver down my spine.

I nodded slowly, my mind racing with questions and doubts. What secrets were hiding behind their facade of normalcy? And could one of them be capable of such a heinous act?

"Do you think they could have had something to do with her disappearance?" I ventured cautiously.

He shrugged. "I don't know. They're all acting like they did when Miranda was still around."

Was?

"You said was," I observed. "Do you think whoever took her killed her?"

Once again, I felt him shrug.

Turning over, I looked into his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at me.

"I don't know," he said, his voice filled with uncertainty. "They haven't found her body yet, so I'm going to say no. But I just don't know."

I could see the weight of the situation bearing down on him; his muscles tensed, followed by his jaw.

"Sit up," I instructed him suddenly, feeling the need to offer some comfort.

Confused but compliant, Jon sat up as I moved behind him and began kneading the knots in his shoulders.

His skin felt warm beneath my touch, and I couldn't help but comment on it. "You're really tense," I remarked. "And hot."

A playful smirk crossed his lips as he turned around to face me. "Hot, eh?"

Rolling my eyes at his teasing, I playfully swatted his shoulder. "Oh, shut up. Your skin feels hot to the touch. Are you sure you don't want to take off your sweater?"

"If you wanted me to take off my sweater, all you had to do was ask," he quipped with a grin before complying with my request.

As he removed his sweater, I chuckled at his antics. "You really are a dork."

"Dork, nerd—you still love me," he replied with a wink.

I nodded affectionately, meeting his gaze with a smile. "I do love you."

Suddenly, he let out a sigh that caught my attention.

"What's wrong?" I inquired softly.

"It's my parents," he confessed quietly. "They've been arguing more than usual."

Sympathy welled up within me as I listened to him express his concerns about his family.

Leaning in closer, I did my best to offer reassurance and comfort. "First off, there's no such thing as a perfect family," I began gently. "Family isn't always blood; it's about standing by each other through thick and thin." Taking hold of his chin and locking eyes with him, I continued earnestly, "Family is you and me. We are all we need."