Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
I start to unpack, eyeing up the dresses in my closet. I have plenty to choose from. He’s right about that. I need to remind myself how generous he is and how lucky I am. He didn’t have to go to the trouble of making sure I had everything I could ever want. Even if everything comes with conditions.
Once I’m finished putting my clothes and toiletries away, I unpack my laptop and set it up on my desk. It’ll be nice getting away from it for a while. I’m tired of carrying it around everywhere I go. Then again, I can’t imagine having to lug around textbooks for every single class. How did people survive that back in the day? They probably all need chiropractors by now.
I wonder what Dad and Zeke are talking about.
It seems like I can’t distract myself enough. Why did Dad want to talk to him right away? It doesn’t have anything to do with me, does it? Us?
How could it? Nobody, not even the best actor in the entire world, could pretend to be as friendly and warm and welcoming as Dad was if he was waiting to strike. Like a snake in the grass. There wasn’t so much as a hint of tension or anger.
He’s probably going over ground rules for how to guard me now that we’re back home. Then again, I doubt it would take long. Don’t let her go anywhere, don’t let her go anything. Pretty simple. I flop into my desk chair, wishing Zeke would knock on the door to signal the end of their meeting. The sooner he’s finished, the better for my anxiety.
I need to get over this. We talked about it last night after we finished packing. We have to pretend everything is normal. We can’t let guilt eat at us because that’s when mistakes are made. And while Dad is usually too busy with business to pay attention to every minute of my life, there are eyes everywhere. And no telling who might want to gossip.
I need another distraction. Opening my laptop, I pull up Facebook and scroll through pictures for a while. Posey is already in Manhattan at her grandfather’s place, where she’ll be spending the holiday. There’s the tree at Rockefeller Center, with Posey and her family smiling in front of it. She complains about them a lot, but at least her parents are present for her.
She’s really lucky. I mean, so am I, but still.
What is taking so long? Dammit, I’m going to go nuts.
I keep scrolling until I come across a post from Dean. That reminds me of the conversation we had back in the car. I don’t really feel like rehashing all the work we put into our project, but I am kind of curious about the materials he says he sent to my school email account. I’m sure he’ll ask me about it the next time we talk, so I might as well look and see what he’s referring to. Even if opening my school email is the last thing I want to do on my first day home on break.
His message is right at the top. I click on it, then click the links in the body of the message.
At first, I don’t understand. Articles, a handful of them, some dating back fifteen years or so. I skim one, then the next one, and I’m starting to get the feeling this was all a ploy to have another reason to touch base again. Like texting somebody and pretending it was an accident later on, all for the sake of getting their attention.
It’s the third article that lands like a bomb.
I lean in, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.
Before long, the words start to blur, thanks to the tears welling up and spilling over onto my cheeks.
No way. It’s not possible. This has to be a joke.
But I’m not laughing.
27
ZEKE
“Naturally, there are certain questions I don’t want to ask directly in front of Mia.” The boss lets out a booming laugh as we enter his office. I want more than anything to be with her, not with him, but that’s how things have to be. For both our sakes, but mostly for hers. Amazing how my whole mindset has shifted. It used to be my neck I was looking out for.
“Of course. But not to worry. Everything’s been smooth sailing.” I hope lightning doesn’t strike me dead on the spot. Grandma always used to warn me about that if I lied too much.
“I knew I could count on you. You know, in a lot of ways, you’re like a son to me.” He walks over to the bar set up across from his desk, an antique cart trimmed in brass. A lift of his eyebrows in my direction is a silent question. An offering.