Well that answers that question. By morning, the inside source should pretty much be uncovered and discredited—I will be done. Funny how short my fantasy about running for student government lasted. It survived a five-minute beer line before burning up in scandal-ridden flames.
I spot Cass’s back in the crowd and am thankful for my sister’s constant ponytail. I’m weaving through bodies, when I feel a guy run his hand over my ass, his finger hooking in the pocket of my jeans.
“Okay, what the fu—” I stop when I come eye to eye with Chandra.
“You never could resist letting a guy feel you up,” she says.
There are a lot of words that run through my mind—none of them kind. I should use them. She deserves them. But I don’t want to stoop to her level, to argue about shit that doesn’t matter to anyone but her and me here, in front of people. So I don’t say anything at all.
“Your little game—you and your sister? You’ll never win. Our lawyers are already picking apart that story,” she says. I notice the flex in her jaw while she waits for a response. She’s pissed, but she’s also nervous. Her lawyers aren’t picking apart anything.
“My sister couldn’t care less about you,” I say, wanting to make it clear that Cass is no part of this war. She’s only a casualty to our warfare, an innocent bystander that I somehow keep hurting.
“How about that boyfriend of yours? Is he here? Abandoning my niece so he can spend time with a slut like you?” The fact that she brings him up, and so quickly, strikes me. I don’t answer her immediately, taking a step away, working my tongue in my cheek, considering her question.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, and she rolls her eyes. I can tell by the way she swallows, though—by the way she keeps her gaze at the crowd of people near us—whatever she needs would be easier to get if Houston were my boyfriend.
Leah.
She’s going to use Leah.
“In fact,” I say, hooking her. She’s looking at me again, waiting. I’m not giving her any weapons. I’ve gotten smarter than that. “He overheard me talking to the paper. He was pissed that I talked to them. Not because he cares about you, but he said Leah wouldn’t want to see those rumors spread around about her aunt. He told me to move out.”
She leaves her eyes on mine, waiting for me to crack. I won’t though. I’m good at lying.
“Well that sucks for you, doesn’t it?” she finally says. I chuckle, because her response is pathetic.
“Yeah, Cee Cee,” I say, loving the way she winces when I use her family name. “Sucks for me.”
I step away, leaving her alone in a crowd that eventually swallows her up and quits caring she’s here. I didn’t ask about how she’s here, if she’s out on bail, or if anyone ever brought her in for anything. It’s not like she was completely caught with possession, and she’s been dealing with the rumor of her drug abuse for months thanks to me. But things are getting harder for her. I like that they are. I can see she’s feeling the pinch.
The closer I get to Cass and Rowe, the more I also realize that I’ve made a choice, just like Joyce wanted. I’m moving out—it’s going to be ugly, because Houston is going to think it’s because of him. And while it’s really because of Leah, it’s not because I’m afraid to love that little girl and be a part of her life. It’s quite the opposite, really.
I’m leaving because Leah deserves that money. And as long as I stay in that house, Chandra will threaten to run to daddy—to make it all go away, because of me.
Stay or go. Either way, Joyce was right.
I. Am. Devastated.
Chapter 16
Paige
He waited up. I knew he would. I think that’s why I stayed out until now. It’s two in the morning. My feet can barely carry me. I stopped drinking around midnight, so now my head hurts. All I want in the world is to lie down.
But I can’t. Because I have to walk into this house and tell the only guy whose ever made me feel cherished that I have to move out. I have to convince him that it’s for the best, and that it’s what I really want. I have to lie better than I’ve ever lied in my entire life.
I told Cass it was just too uncomfortable living here. I also told her I missed her and wanted to spend the rest of the year living together, like we were supposed to. Most of what I said was true. A lot of it wasn’t though.
Truth is, I’m almost too comfortable living here. When I think of home, this is where I want to be. But not if it costs Leah a future paved with opportunity—not if it causes pain for Houston. I can’t bring that on their house. Joyce wouldn’t want me to.