by CoraLee June
About the Book
Two boys.
One tragedy.
Grief bonds us.
The mystery of this murder will break us.
My best friend was brutally ripped from this world, but her brother and boyfriend are still here.
One of them wants to use me.
The other wants to forget me.
Both of them make me feel alive.
We’ll find Violet’s murderer, no matter the cost.
Two boys.
One tragedy.
Grief bonds us.
Love will tear us apart.
AGGRO
CoraLee June
Carrie Gray
Copyright © 2020 by June Publishing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by: HarleyQuinn Zaler
Editing by: Helayna Trask
Cover Photographer: Marx Chavez
Cover Model: Roque Arrais
Interior Photography: Jewels Gray
Created with Vellum
To Edward Hannigan.
I wish I would have called you that day. You were on my mind, and I made a mental note to check in with you, but never did. I never imagined that I’d never get the chance.
Thank you for being a good friend. Thank you for teaching me that timing is just an illusion. We mold meaning out of the quality of our interactions, not the quantity. Thank you for making me stronger. Bolder. Thank you for believing in me.
And thank you, Carrie, for letting me commandeer this dedication. I came to you, wanting to write a book about grief to help me process my own. Thank you for being an incredible support system. Thank you for being my best friend. Thank you for diving into this world with me and helping me mourn.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
A Note from the Authors
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Author
Also By Coralee June & Carrie Gray
Looking to Score
Dear Diary,
I’m not sure if he loves me or loves the tease. He likes the way my knees blush and bruise on his hardwood floors. He likes the way I drop a pencil and slowly pick it up. I know I shouldn’t be telling you this. Secrets aren’t meant to bloom like life in your belly. They’re meant to be buried in coffins or hidden like quiet, angry fucks in the back of a car. They’re meant to be strangled, the air cut off with a blunt razor blade. This is my secret. My deepest shame. This is my story.
XOXO,
Violet
Breeze
I loved how unforgiving the ocean was. She demanded respect and drew people to her dark depths with beauty. She was terrifying and exhilarating, yet gentle when she wanted to be. My mother used to tell me that the ocean was a woman, and living on the island taught me she was right. Who else could hold life in its murky depths while being a temperamental bitch?
Tonight, instead of an ocean, I felt more like a muddy puddle. Bland, inconvenient, and something people avoided. I never fit in at these parties, nor was I ever popular or memorable enough to be on the invite list. I wasn’t like my best friend, Violet, who was always the vibrant life of the party. And tonight, her house was filled to the brim with people and alcohol. I wanted to spend my night watching surf clips on YouTube, but it was Violet’s eighteenth birthday, and she had begged me to come. Not that she necessarily had to, I wasn’t going to miss her birthday party. I just liked to make her work for it.
Practically everyone on the island was here to drink cheap beer and make poor decisions. Love—or better yet—lust was in the air. February was perfect for finding someone to fuck. The music was thumping, and someone opened all the windows, letting the salty, humid air coat our sweaty skin. There was a smoky haze surrounding me, and I breathed in the skunky smell of pot. A guy with red eyes kept blowing smoke in my direction, laughing at whatever his buddies were saying. People crowded the chairs and couches. Coolers packed with beer lined the walls, and the floors were sticky. A girl wearing tall wedges that made her feet wobbly slumped past me, laughing as trash can punch splashed over the rim of her red cup. Some of it landed on my feet, and I was glad I decided not to dress up.
Back home, hanging in my closet was a sleek, black dress that was gorgeous and revealing. It clung to my slender body, creating the illusion of curves. When I tried it on, it didn’t feel like me. Violet had brought it over earlier, insisting that I wear it. Part of me wanted to, but I changed my mind last minute. When push came to shove, I always preferred comfort over glam—always preferred hiding in the shadows to standing out.
I wore an oversized teal T-shirt and cutoff shorts that showed off my long, tanned legs. My blond, sun-kissed hair fell in natural waves down my back, and I barely brushed on some mascara to frame my deep blue eyes.
Minimal. Effort.
Violet was off somewhere doing a keg stand or making out with her boyfriend. We were complete opposites, and many people didn’t understand our unique friendship, not that we ever cared. She was there for me when my dog, Sally, died. She was there when I got my period in Mrs. Huckey’s geometry class. She helped me study for English and would read books out loud to me when my dyslexia made it difficult to comprehend the jumble of words. And when my dad bought the surf shop on the beach, she made flyers and handed them out to all the hot surfers I was too scared to talk to.
Violet Jones was my best friend and the only reason I begrudgingly attended this party. It wasn’t so bad. I just leaned against the wall, people watching and counting the seconds until I could go home.
“Surprised to see you here, Breeze,” a voice with a low timbre said beside me. I bristled at the tone and turned to look at the handsome face invading my bubble of anonymity. Chase Jones, Violet’s twin brother, was looking me up and down, a smile on his thick lips. Like his sister, Chase was well-known at school. He had the face and body you couldn’t help but worship and stare at. With brown hair that was naturally lightened by the sun and a perfectly symmetrical face, he had his fair share of attention.
I’d had a crush on him since I realized I might like boy cooties. Chase and I were inseparable as children, but as we grew older, we grew apart. Violet became my other half, and he became a boy I was desperately infatuated with. “You know how convincing and relentless Violet can be,” I joked, trying not to let my voice shake. You’d think after fifteen years of sleepovers and friendship, I wouldn’t be nervous around Chase, but old h
abits die hard.
“What Violet wants, she gets,” Chase replied with a slight smile, the affection he felt for his sister evident in his teasing expression. Chase looked me up and down again, his hazel eyes lingering on my legs for a long moment that made foolish hope build in my gut. “I haven’t seen you around much lately. You used to spend practically every weekend at our house.”
I blushed and tried not to preen at the fact that he’d noticed. “Been busy. I’m working extra hours at the surf shop, and someone’s got to test out all the new merch,” I teased, knowing damn well that it’s not much of a hardship. I’d spend every second of my life in the waves if I could.
Chase smiled, showing off his bright teeth and the dimples in his cheeks.
“You work too hard, bro.”
“It’s a thankless job, but someone has to do it.”
Chase took a sip of his beer before looking around the crowded room. Violet and Chase lived in an ostentatious but empty house on the beach. Their parents were rarely home, and when they were, they pretended like their kids didn’t exist. Though Violet would never admit it, I think the loneliness got to her; it’s why she filled her Saturday nights up with parties and spent them hanging out with me. I had regular, loving, embarrassing parents. I grew up with Allison and Brian Shirley, basically the epitome of love and normalcy. She just really had Chase.
“Have you seen my sister?” he asked while looking around.
“Nope. I’m sure she’s with Kai.” I nearly slapped myself for being stupid. Chase hated Violet’s boyfriend. It was probably the only reason she dated him.
“Of course she is,” Chase replied with a sigh. “Did she just leave you here?” The protectiveness in his tone surprised me, but I didn’t allow myself to think too hard about it.
“I begged her to let me be. You know I don’t do this,” I lamely replied while gesturing around the party by way of explanation. In the distance, there was a couple dry humping against the wall. In the corner, a guy from my English class vomited in a flower vase. Two guys walked through the front door carrying pizzas, and a frenzy of drunk and hangry teens attacked them.
“Right. You’re too cool for lame parties, right, Breezy Baby?” he asked while leaning closer. Chase only called me that when we were alone. I could smell the beer on his breath and the woodsy cologne on his tanned skin. Our exchange was odd but addictive. My inner voice told me that he was just drunk and didn’t realize how close we were standing, but something else had me wishing for more.
“I’m not cool at all, Chase.”
“You don’t know yourself very well.” He was close. So damn close. Another girl would have closed the distance. Another girl would have confidently stroked his arm. Another girl would have giggled at his compliment and brushed a strand of golden-brown hair out of his eyes.
But not me.
I was just about to open my mouth to ask him something mundane about the weather or senior trigonometry when Celeste Borns sauntered up to us. I steeled my spine, preparing for the worst. I didn’t like Celeste. She had wavy hair and round eyes that were framed with fake lashes that were excessively long, like wings on a raven. She was tall and slender, with a confident swagger that couldn’t be matched.
“Chase, baby,” she greeted before slamming her plump pout to his. I watched like a masochist, shame and longing filling me up as she threaded her fingers through his hair and hiked her leg up around his body. I should have left when she moaned into his mouth, but in social situations, I never did or said the right thing. And when they broke apart, I quickly averted my eyes to the floor, pretending to be interested in the pink paint on my toenails.
“Breeze, I didn’t see you there,” Celeste said in a sickly sweet tone while adjusting her dress. None of the girls were ever openly mean to me. Violet made it very clear that she would cut a bitch if they so much as looked at me wrong. Instead, everyone at school toed the line, hiding behind passive-aggressive actions and petty digs to get their point across: I didn’t belong. Violet was too cool for me.
“You look nice, Celeste,” I complimented. Celeste Borns was the type to get distracted easily by compliments. She befriended Violet last year as some shady attempt to get closer to Chase. It wasn’t the first time some hopeful girl attempted that, but it was the first time one succeeded. Violet was hurt, rightfully so. What happened with Celeste was the key reason I never told Violet how I felt about Chase. It was also why I started insisting Violet come to my house instead of me going to hers and risk running into him. My best friend was more important than some stupid crush.
“Thanks,” Celeste replied while looking down at her short red halter dress. Her slender fingers trailed up and down the fabric, and I noticed how Chase watched her slow, teasing movements. “You look...comfortable,” she added while wrinkling her nose and looking me up and down with disdain.
“That’s my best friend. She always prefers comfort over high fashion,” Violet’s bright voice said as her willowy arm wrapped around my shoulder. I turned my head to smile at my best friend, noting the rosy glow to her cheeks and the shine in her blue eyes. Her inky hair was curled to perfection, and she was wearing a beautiful white halter top with sleek skinny jeans. She had a Miss America style sash that said Birthday Girl draped over her shoulder. “Some people just don’t have to try hard to look good,” Vi added while looking pointedly at Celeste. “Breeze is effortlessly beautiful.” To stress her point, Violet kissed my cheek and squeezed me tighter. I could smell the alcohol on her breath and made a mental note to watch her drinks for the rest of the night.
Celeste looked annoyed, but Chase snorted while giving my legs another lingering stare that made my heart flutter. I didn’t quite understand their relationship. I knew they were fucking; Celeste had bragged about his cock enough times to prove that. But Chase was quick to say that they weren’t exclusive. He’d had plenty of girls on his arm to disrupt rumors of exclusivity, but Celeste seemed to be the one girl he slipped his dick in on the regular.
“Violet, I’m ready to fucking leave,” a wicked voice said from behind, making every hair on my head stand up. I knew who it was immediately. Kai Lewis was a dangerous enigma. With black hair, tattoos covering his arms, and a hardened expression, everything about him screamed run away. So naturally, my best friend made him her boyfriend. Chase wrinkled his brow in annoyance.
Chase was overprotective. I guess having absentee parents made him feel responsible for his baby sister. I couldn’t tell you how many times he’d texted me over the years, making sure she arrived at my house safely or requested updates on our whereabouts. Sometimes I wondered if he let her host parties at their house because he felt more comfortable watching over her in their own home.
“It’s my birthday party,” Violet giggled before tapping his chest with her perfectly manicured hand. “I can’t just leave whenever I want.”
Kai gave me a haughty glance before turning to look at Violet again. “Fuck, I’m over this. You don’t let anything stand in the way of a good time, huh?”
“You’re welcome to leave, Kai,” Chase said in a sinister tone, eyeing Kai with barely contained anger as Celeste clutched his arm. “I’m not sure why you’re at a high school party, anyway. What are you, thirty?”
“I’m nineteen, dumbass; I doubt you could even count to thirty.”
Chase looked like he wanted to punch Kai in the jaw. “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and leave? I don’t know what my sister sees in you.”
Kai and Chase have been in the competitive surfing circuits since Chase could walk. Their rivalry was a decade old and bone-deep. “I don’t think you want to know just what your sister likes about me. Your girlfriend might get ideas and decide she wants a real man.”
“Kai,” Violet warned with a hiss.
“Come on. Your brother is right, for once. I can’t just stand here watching you get drunk.”
“I’m not leaving,” Violet argued while crossing her arms over her chest and stomping her fo
ot. I noticed a bright blush on her cheeks. “I haven’t even danced with my best friend. If you want to go, just go. There’s nothing stopping you. I just wanted a night to let loose. I’m not letting you ruin this for me.” Violet gave Kai a pointed look, as if there was more to this conversation I wasn’t picking up on. They were always fucking fighting.
“Fine. Have another drink then, babe. I don’t have a reason to fucking care anymore,” Kai growled before looking at her with a scowl.
Violet let out a huff and grabbed my wrist, tugging me toward the living room where they had set up a makeshift dance floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chase grab Celeste and lead her upstairs.
The last thing I wanted to do was dance, but I gave in, eager to avoid witnessing another showdown between Kai and Violet. They went through this continuous and predictable cycle. Fight. Fuck. Burn the world down. Repeat. They’ve only been together for six months, but I’d heard more about their glorious angry makeup sex to wonder if Violet pissed him off just because she enjoyed the reconciliation.
Violet spun me around, then started shaking her hips, pressing her tight body against mine as she tossed her head back and laughed. I did the awkward shuffling side-to-side dance with a smile, feeling self-conscious. I’d never been much of a dancer, and watching us move on the dance floor created a chasm of distance between our personalities. My best friend was always the life of the party, but I wasn’t sure what exactly I was.