Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“Oh,” she says, sounding startled as if the twenty-seven doorbell rings didn’t tip her off to our presence. “I was just on my way out.” She pulls her sunglasses down her nose enough to take in my appearance. Never one to be able to hide how she feels, her nose scrunches up and her eyes flash with disapproval. But I don’t miss the fact that even though she’s wearing a face full of makeup, her eyes are bare and rimmed with redness. Has she been crying? I don’t remember a time my mother cried without an audience. I’m not delusional enough to let myself believe she suddenly sprouted a conscience overnight.
Must be allergies. In the dead of winter.
“It’s not a good time, darling,” she says, glancing over her shoulder behind her.
“You changed the code,” I say, shouldering past her. Holden follows me in without hesitation like he owns the place.
“Which I would have mentioned last night if you didn’t storm off like an insolent child.”
So that’s how she’s going to play it? We both know she changed the locks to spite me, and she knows I don’t believe that she changed them before I left for even a second. It doesn’t matter how well I think I know her games. She changes the rules every time. She’s an expert at making herself the victim in every situation. It’s an art form, honestly.
“I’m sure,” I say, my tone thick with sarcasm. “We just came to get my stuff and then I’ll be out of your way.”
“We?” she asks, following me toward the staircase. “Are you going to introduce me to your little friend?”
I almost laugh. One thing Holden’s never been accused of is little. In any sense of the word.
“This is Holden. Holden, this is Lilith, the she-demon herself.”
“Nice to meet you, Lilith,” Holden says, playing into it, holding out his hand. He says it so innocently that I almost laugh.
“My name is Claudia. That’s Valentina’s idea of a joke. She gets her sense of humor from her father, I’m afraid. What did you say your last name was?”
“He didn’t—”
“Ames,” he answers at the same time. Her eyes light up at the mention of his family name, and I can practically see the dollar signs flashing behind her sunglasses.
“As in AmesAir?” Her voice rises an octave. “You must be August’s son then?” she surmises.
Everyone knows that Judge Ames only has one son who happens to be MIA at the moment, and August has several, including one who passed. It’s not hard to guess which one Holden belongs to.
“Come on,” I say, tugging on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He follows me up the steps and into the hall, staring a little too closely at all my pageant pictures lining the walls from the ages of four to fourteen.
“Don’t say a fucking word,” I warn.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, beauty queen.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
I remember thinking my mom was so proud of me for those stupid sashes and tiaras. She must be proud if she had me plastered all over the walls. But eventually, I realized that I was simply a reflection of her. And when anyone ever called me beautiful, it was only because she made me so.
“I just need to grab a couple of things,” I say, walking into my room.
Holden looks around before sitting on the edge of my bed. “Do you know how many times I wished I could be here in high school?”
I huff out a quiet laugh, half-amused and half-flattered. “And I wished I were anywhere but here.”
I hear my mom’s heels click-clacking on the stairs, and I start to shove my clothes into my bag a little faster. Luckily, I didn’t have time to unpack my toiletries, so once I grab my laptop, phone charger, and trusty heating pad, I’m done. “Okay, let’s go,” I say, swinging my backpack over my shoulder.
“That was fast.” Holden snatches the strap, taking it from me.
“I can carry my own bag.”
His only response is a smack to my ass. In doing so, his fingers make contact with my bare skin under my skirt. His eyebrows pull together in confusion as he lifts the hem, craning his neck to take a peek and confirm his suspicions. I bat his hand away, knowing my mom is going to appear in my doorway any second.
Holden groans, lowering my bag to cover his crotch. “Evil woman.”
“It’s not my fault. I wasn’t going to wear dirty underwear.” I walk over to my dresser and snatch the first pair of underwear I touch from the top drawer. Holden watches as I quickly pull them up my legs and right my skirt.
When we make it out into the hall, my mother is at the top of the stairs. But it’s not me who has her attention. It’s Lawrence who’s clear on the opposite side of the hall, holding a big cardboard box. Is he—is he moving out? I feel Holden’s presence like a sentry at my back as he moves closer to me, sensing the rising tension.