Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I thought she was smarter than the woman she portrayed last night.
With my hands balled at my side, I ask, “Why are you here? Did you stay? Is he here with you?” I don’t need to say Gabriel’s name. My sneered ‘he’ exposes who I am talking about. “If he is, I won’t hold back this time. I’ll smas—”
“I’m not here with anyone. I scaled the rose trellis. I needed to get my books.” She lessens the blow of her reply by whispering, “And to check that you were okay.” With her eyes on her feet, she murmurs, “I doubt someone like me could hurt you, but I still feel bad about what I did.”
I touch her before I can stop myself.
After lifting her head, I drag my thumb across her lips, removing his taste from her mouth.
When her tears assist in the scrubbing of her mouth, she mutters an apology like she knows her betrayal is worse than mine. “I didn’t know it was him. I wouldn’t have kissed him if I knew it was him. I was just so angry I couldn’t think straight. My brain fritzed.”
With her confession hitting home harder than she realizes, I accept her earlier offer. “My brother needs my help. Can I get a ride?”
McKayla nods without pause for thought, unaware that I’m leading her into a very dangerous trap.
Chapter 32
McKayla
An unexpected smile tugs at my lips when Cash directs me down a leafy street approximately an hour from campus. The homes are dated but well-loved. They’ve been a part of the community longer than the university. If the history I read on the campus information page is correct, most of these residences were built by the professors who lectured at South Harmon Institute and are now leased by the university to their current scholars.
“The next house on the left,” Cash advises, his voice still low and groggy. He seems more worried than jealous, but what would I know? I stupidly thought kissing a man would bombard him with the same jealousy I was being smacked with, but all it did was display I’m not worth fighting for.
I thought I was smart, but the past twenty-four hours have had me doubting everything.
I settle the erratic beats of my heart with a quick exhale before pulling onto the curb at the front of a house with a white picket fence, blue shutters, and a bright red door. It looks like a home any child would love to grow up in. Even from the outside, you can tell it has a generous floor space, but it still feels homely and loved.
Not wanting to intrude, I say, “I’ll wait for you here.”
Cash deliberates my response as if it were a question before briskly shaking his head. “I want you to come in, then maybe you’ll understand why not all of us rush to judge other people’s decisions.”
I talk through my heart now sitting in my throat. “I know you didn’t touch Vivienne, Cash. I just…”
When I fail to find an excuse, I crank open my door, then walk around my car to join Cash on the sidewalk. Although we’re not on campus, he holds my hand during the seemingly long walk from my car to the front door of what I am assuming is his brother’s house.
His clutch alerts me to how nervous he is. Not only can I feel his pulse surging through his body, but his palms are also extra sweaty.
As we enter the front door, Cash asks, “Where is he?”
A man in a wheelchair with a scruffy beard and an angry scowl replies, “Where do you think he is?” He must be Cash’s brother, although he looks much older than the newspaper articles I read about him when I googled him.
Trenton was struck down in his prime, a young twenty-five years, but the man before me now seems much closer to forty.
My heart thuds against my ribcage when Cash guides me to a staircase that leads to the basement. I’m not startled by dark, dingy spaces. They were my favorite hiding spots when I was a kid. I’m frightened by Cash’s reply to a female voice shouting his name.
“Not now, Mom,” Cash replies, proving he recognizes the voice.
Why is his mom here? I thought his parents were divorced?
The further we descend the large staircase, the more dust filters in the air. I assume it is because no one comes down here but am proven wrong when we enter the finished basement. It is a large, open space that wouldn’t be so intimidating if every wall wasn’t covered with massive black chalkboards.
The dust fragments tickling my nose aren’t complements to bad cleaning habits. It is chalk dust.
I begin to wonder how deeply Cash’s ruse ran when my eyes scan equation after equation after equation. Just like the test Cash sat for yesterday, these aren’t standard questions. Only someone with an IQ over 300 would be able to tackle them, and even then, they’d be challenging.