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)
“Yeah, and I live there alone now,” he shoots back. “I have space. I’m just saying.”
Despite the lunacy of the idea of moving in with him when we have been dating for roughly one day, I find myself smiling at his support. “I hate to tell you this, but I’m never living at that lake house.”
“It’s not your only option. I have a property in town with ten apartment units. There’s a one-bedroom vacant. I’d be happy to let you stay there.”
Frowning at the screen, I type back rapidly, “How do you already own a rental property?”
“It was a graduation present from my parents,” he explains.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? I got fifty dollars in cash for graduation.”
“We have very different lives.”
I snort. “Yeah, I noticed.”
CHAPTER 22
CASSIE
The closer I get to the house, the more dread roils around in my stomach.
I have no idea what I’m going to say to her. I’ve been avoiding her as much as possible because I have no idea what to say to her.
When I was little, I would always get the worst stomachache when I knew my mom was mad at me. It’s clear from the texts she wasn’t calm, but I wouldn’t expect her to be given the news. There’s still a small part of me that isn’t entirely sure how she will react once I’m there and the conversation actually unfolds.
I don’t like to be a dumbass, so I don’t like to hope for things I know aren’t likely to happen, but I must still be hanging on a frayed thread of hope about how this will go because I don’t have a stomachache yet. I have anxiety, curiosity, dread, but no stomachache.
I park Tor’s car in the driveway, then turn off the engine.
Nervous anticipation makes my palms clammy as I get out of the car.
The march to the front door feels like a march to death row, but I’m still hoping the governor will call with a stay of execution. When I get there, I turn the knob and find it locked.
She knew I was coming, so if I had to guess, it’s not an accident that she made entering the house just a little more difficult. That doesn’t seem like a great sign.
I dig out my key and let myself in, and as soon as I close the door, I see her sitting on the couch, watching a news channel. My gaze drifts to the television just to make sure it isn’t the local news airing some breaking update to Tim’s case that I’m unaware of, but it’s not. It’s some pasty dude riling up viewers about things that hardly matter and are definitely none of their business.
I wait for her to turn it off, but she doesn’t. I wait for her to look at me or acknowledge that I’m home, but she doesn’t.
The silent treatment is a choice, I guess.
Well, if she doesn’t have anything to say, then I don’t either. I slide my purse off my shoulder and start toward my bedroom.
That does it.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The viciousness in her tone does what the dreaded drive over did not—it triggers that familiar stomachache.
I stop walking and turn to face her, my stance tentative. “It didn’t seem like you wanted to talk, so I was going to my room.”
Now she turns the TV off.
I swallow, watching her stand. A stress gopher burrows deeper into my stomach when I catch the look in her eyes.
I’m in trouble.
“You know, I have put up with a lot from you over this past year,” she says.
My stomach drops.
“Your grades dropping, alienating everyone who ever cared about you, your sullen behavior, your ‘me, me, me’ attitude. You have made it very clear you don’t give a damn about this family or how anyone treats us because of your bullshit.” Her eyebrows rise. “You know, Tina at the grocery store told me about your little incident. I asked you for one little thing, just get me a lasagna pan so I can make dinner, and you have to turn it into an ‘All About Cassie’ production!”
My face heats, my heart wanting to sink into my stomach, but that’s already dropped, so there’s nothing to fall into.
“I put up with your lies and your secrecy. Your disappearing car—that I paid for, by the way.”
It was my sixteenth birthday present, but she’s thrown gifts in my face before, so I’m not surprised.
“And then today I have to hear from someone else that my daughter was dragged down to the police station in the middle of the night. That the reason her car went missing is because she’s a suspect in a murder investigation! How do you think I felt, Cassie? What kind of mother does it make me look like to find out something like that from some lady who asked because she was worried about me and expected me to know what was going on? Do you have any clue how fucking dumb I felt? How embarrassing that was?”