The Neighbours: A gripping, addictive novel with a twist that will leave you breathless

Abby looks forward to meeting the family who just moved in next door—until she realizes they’re the one couple who could expose her deepest secrets

After a night of fun back in 1992, Abby is responsible for a car crash that kills her beloved brother. It’s a mistake she can never forgive, so she pushes away Liam, the man she loves most, knowing that he would eventually hate her for what she’s done, the same way she hates herself.

Twenty years later, Abby’s husband, Nate, is also living with a deep sense of guilt. He was the driver who first came upon the scene of Abby’s accident, the man who pulled her to safety before the car erupted in flames—the man who could not save her brother in time. It’s this guilt, this regret, that binds them together. They understand each other. Or so Nate believes.

In a strange twist of fate, Liam moves into the neighborhood with his own family, releasing a flood of memories that Abby has been trying to keep buried all these years. Abby and Liam, in a complicit agreement, pretend never to have met, yet cannot resist the pull of the past—nor the repercussions of the terrible secrets they’ve both been carrying...

For additional books by Hannah Mary McKinnon, visit her website, www.hannahmarymckinnon.com.

The Neighbors

Hannah Mary McKinnon

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

Copyright © Hannah McKinnon 2018

Hannah McKinnon asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © March 2018 ISBN: 9781474077071

Version: 2018-03-21

To the loves of my life—Robert, Leo, Matt and Lex

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

THEN: JULY 18, 1992 ABBY

NOW NATE

NOW ABBY

NOW SARAH

NOW ABBY

THEN ABBY

NOW ABBY

THEN ABBY

NOW NANCY

NOW NATE

NOW NATE

NOW ABBY

NOW NATE

NOW ABBY

THEN ABBY

NOW NANCY

NOW SARAH

NOW ABBY

THEN ABBY

THEN NATE

NOW NATE

NOW ABBY

THEN ABBY

NOW ABBY

NOW NATE

THEN NATE

THEN ABBY

NOW ABBY

NOW NANCY

NOW ABBY

THEN ABBY

NOW SARAH

NOW NATE

NOW SARAH

NOW ABBY

NOW NATE

NOW NANCY

NOW SARAH

NOW ABBY

THEN ABBY

NOW ABBY

NOW NANCY

NOW NATE

NOW SARAH

NOW ABBY

NOW NATE

NOW SARAH

NOW NATE

NOW NATE

THEN NATE

NOW NATE

NOW ABBY

NOW NATE

NOW NATE

NOW NATE

NOW SARAH

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

Q & A

About the Publisher

THEN: JULY 18, 1992 ABBY

“HELP.”

The faint voice floated toward me. Gliding smooth as a paper airplane from somewhere in the midst of the fog swirling through my brain. Orange lights flashed in a steady rhythm and—

“Please.”

I wondered if I’d uttered the words, but I hadn’t moved my lips. Hadn’t moved at all. Couldn’t. It hurt too much. Everything hurt too much.

Moments passed, and I tried to string together the few wispy fragments my mind allowed me to cling to. My arms, chest and legs were pressed against something hard and uncomfortable—the ground, not my soft bed—but the reason why I found myself in that position escaped me entirely. And I was too exhausted to care.

A breeze softly brushed across my cheek. The pavement beneath me felt warm, and despite the distinct taste of rust invading my mouth, I could smell freshly cut grass. Hadn’t I been—

“Help me, Abby.”

The voice was too low to be mine. A man’s then—it had to be. Why wouldn’t he let me sleep? My eyes felt heavy and impossible to open, so I let my thoughts start pulling me away, ever so slowly, to the deliciously inviting state of unconsciousness.

“Abby.”

Rest would have to wait. Against my better judgment I raised my head, each millimeter expending energy I didn’t think I had and causing pain to shoot through every part of my body like a thousand burning hot pins. I tried, but my legs and lower back stubbornly refused to budge even the tiniest amount, as if I’d been nailed to the ground.

I forced my eyes open.

And I saw him.

“Tom.” My own voice this time, barely a whisper. “Tom.” A little stronger, louder.

My brother lay a few meters away in what had been my blue Ford Capri, but which was now an upturned carcass of broken glass and mangled steel. The flashing of the hazard lights illuminated Tom’s bloody face and body every few seconds, a perverse freak show. He hung upside down. Unlike me, he was still in the car, somewhere between the front and back seats, his arms and legs bent at impossible angles. Eyes wide and glazed. Staring at me. Desperate. Begging.