Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Hi, I’m Tessa.” I shook her hand with a smile. “I’m a friend of Devon’s.”
“How lovely,” she said, but her voice was hollow and she cast a nervous glance at Devon. “Come on in. Your uncle is inside.”
The wall to our left was plastered with family photos. A stab of jealousy jolted through me at the sight of them. Devon had a loving family, he didn’t have to steal his own family photos from a forbidden file; they were displayed in the open for everyone to see. I reached for the folded photos in my jeans pocket. Just feeling them beneath my fingertips gave me a sense of belonging.
Devon’s hand on my lower back urged me to move on. I hurried on through the house, but every step felt more like returning to a happy family. As we entered the living room, Uncle Scott looked away from the baseball game on TV. The spicy scent of cigars wafted over to me and burned in my nose. He still sported his trademark mustache that curled around his lips.
“So where are you two heading?” he asked.
“Did you eavesdrop?” Devon asked with a grin.
His uncle got up, hugged him and patted his back.
“No need to. These walls are thin as paper,” Uncle Scott said in his deep, raspy voice. He turned to me and shook my hand. “So you are Tessa, the friend.”
He said friend like he didn’t believe for one second that that was what we were.
My cheeks heated. “That’s me. Nice to meet you, sir.”
“So where’s your road trip taking you?” Uncle Scott asked again as he sank back down into his chair. He turned the volume of the game down but didn’t turn the TV off.
Devon was about to reply but I cut in before he could say the wrong thing. “Chicago,” I replied.
Uncle Scott nodded, but I wasn’t sure he actually believed me. Aunt Celia walked into the living room in that moment, carrying a tray with cookies and iced tea. “Is that your car, Tessa?” she asked as she set everything down on the table. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could detect a hint of suspicion in her voice. “Why don’t you kids take a seat.”
Devon and I sank down on the plush sofa. It smelled like the same flowery carpet cleaner his mother had used. “That’s actually one of the reasons why we’re here,” Devon began hesitantly. “I wanted to ask if we could borrow a car.”
“Why can’t you take Tessa’s car?” Uncle Scott asked.
“It’s really old and the brakes aren’t working properly. We don’t want to drive such a long distance with it,” I lied quickly.
Guilt flashed across Devon’s face. We couldn’t tell them the truth. They’d find out soon enough that the car was stolen and that we had lied to them.
Uncle Scott put his cigar down. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
Devon and I exchanged a look. I turned back to Uncle Scott, smiling coyly. “We just wanted to enjoy a few days together before we have to be back at the academy.”
“So you’re also an artist, Tessa? Devon’s mother told me all about your art school,” Aunt Celia said as she handed us both a glass of iced tea.
Artists. I had to stop myself from snorting. “Thanks,” I said. “I am an artist—a painter. But it’s not that interesting actually.”
“So, anyway. Do you think you could loan us a car? We’d be back in a couple of days and could drop it off on our way back to campus.” Devon asked. I was glad that he was trying to steer away from the topic of school.
“Of course,” Uncle Scott said, his expression understanding. “Your aunt and I know this has been a very difficult time for you, Devon, and I’m glad to hear you’re taking some time off for yourself. You know we’re always here for you. Just don’t get in trouble, okay?”
“Don’t worry,” Devon said with a smile.
Aunt Celia wiped her eyes and excused herself before disappearing from view. I could hear her rummaging around in the kitchen.
Uncle Scott sighed. “She talked to your mother this morning—”
“Is she okay?” Devon demanded, tension slipping back into his body. I paused with the glass against my lips.
Uncle Scott frowned, his mustache turning down at the edges. “She’s all right. But they’re thinking about selling the house. Your mom can’t bear living there anymore. And it seems like your dad is always at work.” He sighed again and shook his head. “I guess that’s just his way of coping with things.” He stared distractedly at the TV.
I touched Devon’s leg to show him I was there for him. But his face was made of stone. “I’ll call them later.”
“I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear from you.” Uncle Scott paused. “I can give you our old truck. And if you don’t have a place to stay, you can always camp out on the truck bed. Just make sure you’re safe. Let me get the keys. We won’t need it for the next few days, anyway.”