Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Although I guess that would explain why we would sneak around if we really were hooking up. What would people say? What will his family think?
I haven’t spared much thought for his family, and I don’t now either, but it’s a certainty that they all know what happened by now. Tessa, their sister, is studying in Paris this summer. I know there’s a time difference, but I’m sure they’ve gotten in touch with her by now.
Reluctantly, I haul myself off the mattress and leave the sanctuary of my bedroom. “Is the washer empty?” I ask my mom. “I need to do laundry.”
“There’s a load waiting to go in, but if you want to do that first…” I nod, but she’s not interested in talking about laundry right now. “You’re not going to believe what Frank heard at work this morning.”
I bet I will.
“You know how the Walters family has that lake house—”
“Yes, I’m familiar with the house, Mom,” I say a bit shortly.
She lives with me; she knows what happened to me at that fucking house. Of course I know it.
“Well, the boys are staying there for the summer.”
“Yeah, that’s not new,” I mutter, going to the fridge so I can get something to drink.
With their family money, good looks, and athletic prowess, the Walters boys were already at the top of the high school food chain, but when they turned sixteen and started spending summers at their family’s second home—allowing for so much freedom and so many parties—they became gods.
“Do you have to be so—?” she explodes, annoyed with me. “I’m trying to tell you something.”
“I don’t want to talk about that family.”
At least that’s the truth.
“One of them died last night,” she blurts, wide-eyed.
“Good,” I shoot back without thought, my eyes widening as well. What the hell does she want from me?
“You—” Flabbergasted, she shakes her head at me. “That’s an awful thing to say.”
“I don’t care anymore! They don’t care if I’m hurt, so why should I care if they are? They’re awful people who have made the past year of my life pure hell. They hurt me, and somehow, I’m treated like the bad one? Fuck them. I don’t care what happens to any of them.”
“Well, Timothy’s dead,” she says, expecting to shock me.
“Good riddance,” I mutter, turning to walk back down the hall.
“You need help, Cassie,” she tells me—not in a loving, concerned way. She’s just mad that I’ve ruined her enjoyment of the hot gossip she possessed.
Anyway, I don’t need help anymore. I got tired of looking to others who only ended up disappointing me and finally helped myself.
Obviously, I wasn’t thinking of it when I came in last night, but I forgot to even check and make sure Tor’s friend—whoever that was—removed the note from my house.
I should probably find out who that was because now they have my journal.
At least I think they do.
When I get back to my room, I lift the mattress to check, and sure enough, it’s gone.
I hear the front door slam. She didn’t seem like she was going anywhere, but since I pissed her off, my mom is probably leaving just to get away from me.
I wish I could do that, but I don’t have a car.
I stop dead.
Oh no.
I don’t have a car!
I turn around and rush back out to the living room. I make it to the front door just in time for my mom to swing it open. Her eyes are even wider than before. “Where is your car?”
Oh shit.
I don’t have a story ready, and I’m not capable of establishing entire alternate realities at the drop of a hat the way Tor is.
My mouth opens, but no words come out.
My heart starts hammering in my chest.
But then my attention is diverted, and so is Mom’s, when a midnight-blue Lexus pulls into our driveway. Her eyes are at a real risk of popping right out of her head, and then the car door opens, and Torrance Walters steps out.
Her jaw actually unhinges.
That’s fair.
This is weird.
Since I haven’t told her anything yet, I know my mom is very lost right now.
“What are you doing here?” I ask uncertainly.
Tor and I never had a chance to talk last night once the police arrived on the scene. I wasn’t even sure if we were allowed to talk to each other, though I guess once we left the police department, they couldn’t really stop us.
“Came to see you,” he tells me, then his gaze flickers to my mom, a practiced, golden god of Holbrook smile falling into place on his ridiculously handsome face. “Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Oh no, honey,” my mom says, turning to face him. “I heard what happened to your brother. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
My spine stiffens, and my insides shrivel up and die a little more, but it’s not the first time I’ve felt like she’s not really on my side.