He Deserved It

CHAPTER 25 – The Brunch

By the time Lia got there, the others were already parked at the table like four queens awaiting judgment.

Mila was twisting her straw wrapper into tight little nooses. Savannah scrolled her phone with that blank stare she usually reserved for ignoring people in the hall. And Imani… well, Imani was just watching. Like always. Like she was quietly collecting evidence for a trial only she knew existed.

The café was one of those places people claimed to love but only actually visited for birthdays or Mother’s Day. Sun-streaked booths. Too many ferns. Mugs that looked hand-painted by someone on the verge of tears. A Sunday kind of place. Except today, the usual brunch buzz felt muted. Like the whole room was pretending not to stare at the same headline glowing from every screen:

MISSING: Local Teen Jordan Maddox Feared Dead

Lia slid into the booth, trying to pretend her hands weren’t still shaking from the coffee she’d panic-chugged in the car. She didn’t look at any of them right away. Just stared at the menu like she might find a Courage Combo on special.

“Morning,” she mumbled.

Mila side-eyed her. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks, queen.”

Savannah didn’t look up. “You saw it, right?”

Lia nodded. “Yeah.”

Imani leaned forward, voice cool but eyes sharp as glass. “Car found in the orchard. Riddled with bullet holes. No body. Just blood.”

“Lots of it,” Mila added. “Like… someone tried to paint the ground with him.”

Savannah finally lowered her phone. “They’re calling it an active homicide investigation.”

Silence crawled between them, heavy and buzzing.

Then Lia, softly: “I don’t think he’s dead.”

All three girls stared at her. Mila’s brows lifted. Savannah’s jaw ticked. Imani tilted her head like she was dissecting a specimen under glass.

“I don’t know anything,” Lia said quickly. “I just… I don’t know how I know. But I think he’s somewhere.”

No one pushed. Maybe because they all knew the feeling of not wanting to explain something you couldn’t prove.

Their food arrived—pancakes, omelets, waffles, toast—and none of it got touched. Syrup went cold on plates while tension simmered between them.

“So,” Savannah said eventually, clearing her throat like it might clear her brain too, “are we gonna talk about how weird everything’s been lately?”

Imani lifted a brow. “Define weird.”

Savannah exhaled. “Random likes. Disappearing accounts. People asking me about prom like it happened yesterday.”

“I got a text,” Imani said. Her tone stayed even, but something flickered in her eyes. “A few days before the news broke.”

Mila frowned. “From who?”

“Anonymous number. Said I never paid the price. Said it’s coming.”

Silence stretched, tight as piano wire.

Savannah let out a brittle laugh. “Okay, that sounds like a threat.”

“I deleted it,” Imani said. “No clue who it was. No proof.”

Mila chewed her lip. “You think it’s… him?”

Imani didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. But if it’s not him, it’s someone who knows way too much.”

Savannah rubbed her temples. “Either way, it means someone’s not done with us yet.”

Lia glanced at her lap. Her palms were damp enough to stain denim. She wiped them on her jeans.

“I didn’t tell you the rest,” Imani continued. “My dad saw him. Said Jordan came into the gas station. Asked if I was doing okay.”

Mila leaned back, eyes wide. “He asked about you?”

“Like nothing happened.”

“Same,” Savannah said suddenly. “I posted a Story last week. A throwback. It got a like from his old account. ‘JordanM.’ When I clicked it, the profile was gone.”

Imani frowned. “You sure it wasn’t fake?”

“I’m sure.”

Mila’s voice dropped lower than usual. “Remember that mural I tagged last year? The one behind the old record store?”

The others nodded.

“I went by last week. Someone wrote over it. Just one sentence: Still think about that night.”

Lia felt her stomach twist. She tried not to show it. Tried to keep her face neutral, but the air felt thick around her.

Nobody spoke for a second.

Then Savannah leaned forward, pressing her rings into the wood tabletop. “So we agree—something’s going on.”

“Or someone’s messing with us,” Mila muttered.

“Or both,” Imani said.

They all fell quiet again. The kind of quiet that felt like a loaded gun under the table.

Savannah let out a slow breath. Picked at the edge of her napkin.

“We can’t just sit here drowning in conspiracy theories all day.”

She straightened her posture, summoning her faint, practiced smile.

“Okay. I refuse to end this on serial-killer vibes. Group pic before we go?”

“No,” Imani said flatly.

Mila groaned. “Seriously?”

Savannah already had her phone out. “One photo. You’ll thank me later.”

She aimed the camera. They all leaned in. Smiled like nothing was wrong.

Click.

For half a second, Lia almost believed the photo might trap all the good parts and leave the rest out.

But eventually, someone had to pay the check. Chairs scraped. Hugs were given. Promises half-whispered.

Then they pushed open the café doors and stepped into the glare.

Outside, the sun blasted them like it had a personal vendetta. Arroyo Mesa winter meant 72 degrees one minute, polar vortex the next. Classic.

They spilled onto the sidewalk. Lia adjusted her jacket. Mila popped a piece of gum. Savannah was already thumbing her phone again.

Imani glanced up, frowning. “Whose car is that?”

A black sedan idled across the street. Windows tinted dark. Engine running.

They all turned. It was impossible to see who was inside.

Then—a blink. A bus rolled past. When it was gone, the car was gone too.

Lia felt a chill inch down her spine. Her hands balled into fists.

“Did anyone see—”

“It’s probably nothing,” Savannah said too quickly.

But none of them believed it.

They stood there for a long moment, huddled close like birds in a windstorm. No one wanting to be the first to leave.

“I’ll text you,” Imani said.

Mila nudged her with an elbow. “Yeah. And I’ll actually answer this time.”

Savannah gave a tired half-smile. “Small miracles.”

Lia shifted her weight, twisting the ring on her finger. “Hey… I know we’re all busy and stuff. But don’t go weird on me, okay?”

Imani gave her a look. “You’re the weird one.”

Lia cracked a grin. “Exactly. Gotta keep the brand strong.”

Savannah reached out and squeezed her hand. “We won’t disappear. Promise.”

Lia hung back, letting the others peel away first. Her pulse thudded against her ribs as she climbed into the driver’s seat. The silence inside her car felt too loud.

In her bag, her phone buzzed.

A new message. From an unlisted number.

We were electric.

No name. No icon. Just those words staring back at her like they knew everything.

Lia stared at it, thumb hovering.

Could be him. Could be someone screwing with me. Hell, could be a spam bot trying to sell me essential oils for emotional trauma. Who knows?

She almost typed back Jordan? but stopped herself.

Because if it’s him… that’s terrifying. And if it’s not… that’s somehow worse.

She didn’t delete it. Didn’t reply either.

Instead, she sat there, fingers gripping the wheel, trying to steady her breath.

A single tear slipped down her cheek before she could swallow it back.

Funny how two words can drop you right back into the worst five minutes of your life.

And make you wonder if the worst might not be over yet.