Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Coach hugs me, and we part ways. The school is empty and quiet and oddly peaceful as I head for the parking lot. I’m expecting my red Audi to be the lone car in the student section, but instinct has me reaching for the Mace in my pocket when I see the guy leaning against it.
“Get the hell away from my car,” I demand. “And if you try to come near me, I will mace you.”
Carson sways a little to the left as he drags his body away from my car. Clearly, he’s drunk. His eyes are glossy, and he looks like a wreck. This is not the same quiet, unassuming guy I first met here.
“I’m not coming near you.” He holds up his hands and slowly steps away from the car, but not far enough that I’d even consider approaching.
I don’t know why he makes me more nervous than Landon. Probably because I don’t really know him. Before that night, we’d barely had a mumbled greeting. He’s a stranger to me, yet he’s not. Because he knows things I don’t about that night, and now, I can never admit how uncomfortable that makes me.
“I know you just came back here to destroy him,” he slurs. “And he’s falling for it, isn’t he? He can’t stay away from you.”
“Go home, Carson.” I squeeze the key fob in my palm, wishing he would just leave already.
“I want to tell you something about that night.” He stumbles back a step, struggling to find his balance. “It’s important. Really… very important.”
“You and I have nothing to discuss.” I edge my way to the car.
Sensing my nerves, he backs away, but his eyes are pleading.
“Just listen to me,” he implores, and for a second, he looks so miserable I almost consider it. But I can’t. I can’t let either of them get under my skin. If he’s miserable, it’s because he deserves it.
“Tell it to your therapist.” I get into my car and don’t look back.
8
Kailani
“Are you doing okay, honey?” my mom asks as I shove my salad around the plate with a fork.
“I’m fine.” I shrug.
The lies seem to pour from my lips easier every day. But deep down, I feel like I can’t taint my mother’s good heart with the true depravity in mine. When she moved us to the mainland to live with Theo, she genuinely wanted a better life for me. Even though my father died when I was just a toddler, I had a happy and fulfilling childhood. We loved our lives in Hawaii. But my mother always struggled to support me on her own, and her job took her away from me often. Regardless, she always managed to make me the center of her world. As far as I was concerned, she was practically a nun. Of course, men were interested in her, but she never seemed to worry about any of that.
When she met Theo, she was performing at a lūʻau for a corporate retreat. He was instantly smitten with her, and admittedly, it knocked me off balance to see them falling for each other so quickly. I still remember the day my mom came home, beaming brighter than I’d ever seen her. She told me he was the one, and I couldn’t deny her this happiness. But the happiness came with a price. We uprooted the only life we’d ever known to move here. She insisted I would have a better education at a private school, and Theo offered to pay for it. It was a lovely fantasy.
The truth is, she wanted to give me what she never had. Her family couldn’t afford to send her to a private school, so the cutthroat reality of the uber-rich spawn at BMA isn’t something she could even comprehend. In her mind, girls my age are probably still making friendship bracelets and braiding each other’s hair. I think it would break her spirit if she ever found out the truth. That’s why I haven’t told her why I really left. If she knew I carried such a dark grudge in my heart, I could only imagine how ashamed she would be.
“I don’t think you’re eating enough.” She nods to my plate, interrupting the endless stream of chatter in my mind. “Are you feeling off? Should I make you a doctor’s appointment?”
“It’s fine,” I assure her. “I’m just not that hungry.”
“Maybe you should listen to your mother,” Theo chimes in. “A doctor’s appointment couldn’t hurt, just to make sure everything is alright.”
I shoot daggers at him with my eyes, which he doesn’t really deserve, but I don’t need them teaming up against me. They don’t understand what’s at stake here.
“I’m dancing a lot more,” I tell them. “I’m just tired.”
“All the more reason to eat your dinner.” My mom wiggles the breadbasket at me. “You need the energy for your performances.”