The Follower by Kate Doughty (ebook reader with built in dictionary TXT) 📕

But when Rudy and Amber drive home, Amber can’t stand to be in the house a moment longer. She leaves Rudy to jam out and grabs her sneakers to go for a run.

The neighborhood around Tremont is full of quiet, leafy streets. For a long while, Amber can’t hear anything but the pounding of music through her headphones and her feet against the pavement.

Miles later, she returns home and collapses on the porch, drenched in sweat. She glances back at the house and decides that she is finally ready to properly respond to Bella and Jada.

Bella is understanding and promises to visit Cecily once she’s ready for more visitors. Amber knows that she should maybe be more suspicious, but Bella just seems so sincere. And when it comes to Jada, she knows that she is more than a little biased.

But that doesn’t stop her heart rate from accelerating when Jada suggests meeting downtown that evening for coffee. Jada wants to see her, even after . . . all the horrors of that awful night. Amber is grateful; she doesn’t want to spend a second longer in this house than she has to. She leaves for the evening as the workers put the finishing touches on the downstairs foyer. The Range Rover is gone, so Amber decides to bike downtown. The soreness in her legs is a welcome distraction from the revolving thoughts in her head: Alex Grable, the follower, Cecily.

When Amber pulls up to the coffee shop, she’s not only sweating from exertion. She’s actually . . . nervous. And for once, it’s not because of the follower. It’s because Amber can’t stop thinking about Jada. Or wanting to be around her, like, all the time. As Amber opens the door, she finds herself wondering if Jada thinks about her in the same way. What if she doesn’t?

She swallows her nerves. When Jada greets her with a tight hug, Amber almost collapses in relief. They join the line, and Amber is immediately on edge again. Is the cashier being hostile? Are people staring at her out of pity or animosity?

Jada reads the tension in her face. “You sit. I’ll order.”

She returns with the coffee, and Amber lasts about thirty seconds into their conversation before she breaks. She tells Jada everything, from the police visit to Rudy’s suspicions to the figure she’d thought she’d seen.

Jada nods and confirms that she and Bella had been interviewed by the police. “Do you think it could be that guy online? Your follower?”

Amber shrugs. “Honestly? I don’t know. It could be anyone . . . but it can’t be unrelated, can it?”

Jada nods and takes a long drink of coffee. When she looks back up at Amber, her gaze is intense, piercing. She reaches out and puts her hand on top of Amber’s. “How are you doing?” she asks.

“Cecily is healing,” Amber starts.

Jada gives her a look that is all pity. “I know. I know Cecily is healing. But how are you?”

The question strikes her. Amber can’t stop herself from thinking of the dream she had, of faceless Cecily staring up at her. Amber shrugs and tries to say something along the lines of “fine,” but her face just scrunches up instead. She takes a long, shaky breath that turns into a half sob. “It’s bad, Jada. Real bad.”

The tears begin to fall. “It’s just—I never thought—” Amber swallows. “We need her sponsors and I said that I’d do the posts, but I don’t want to take anything away from her and I—” She swipes at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I . . . it’s not just her face. She’s changed, terrified, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I can fix . . .”

“You can’t fix anything,” Jada says softly, squeezing her hand. “Only the doctors and Cecily can do that, Amber. And you’re taking on the sponsors to help her, right?”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s only that . . . I don’t know how to feel. I feel awful about taking posts from Cecily but, at the same time, I’m kind of excited, I kind of want to do things with them—content that’s more for, well, people like me, but—” She cuts herself off. Her stomach twists. She feels like she’s going to be sick.

But Jada runs her thumb over the back of her hand. “You’re not a bad person for wanting to make the best of an awful situation, Amber,” she says kindly. “If you can take over Cecily’s posts in a way that is true to you, I think you should do it. You’re not supposed to be a carbon copy of Cecily.”

“But what if our followers don’t like it? What if the sponsors hate the new direction and—back out or—” Amber’s voice falters. She waits for Jada to agree, to tell her that it’s better to stick to Cecily’s kind of posts and not take any risks, but she doesn’t.

If anything, Jada grabs her hand tighter. “Please. They’re fools if they don’t see how gorgeous you are. Besides, if they don’t want to sponsor you because you’re not a size two, they’re probably not the kind of company you want to be sponsored by anyway.”

Amber nods, and to her surprise, the next time she speaks she’s blinking back tears. “Thank you. I—I think you’re right. Sorry,” she adds, swiping at her eyes. “It’s just—with everything—it’s been hard.”

Jada nods and squeezes her had. “I know. And that picture, after everything—”

“What picture?”

Jada’s face pales. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” Amber asks, a feeling of dread rising up in her throat.

Jada pulls out her phone and flips to the Cole account. There, in their tagged posts, is a photograph of Cecily in the hospital, head wrapped in bandages. It’s dark, and obviously taken through the half-open blinds that cover the interior window of Cecily’s hospital room. Cecily clearly has no idea she’s being photographed. She’s watching TV with a dead-eyed, expressionless stare.

Amber freezes. The handle that posted the photo isn’t the follower. It’s just some fan; their post history has