Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Fenn’s been utterly devastated since he came back from seeing Casey last night, which I took to mean things didn’t go well. How could they? Casey’s a forgiving girl, but everyone has their limits. Whatever she said to him, it snatched his soul from this meat suit and now all that’s left is the eerie absence of his former self.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I say cautiously.
I don’t get even an eye twitch in my direction.
“How much did you tell her?” I ask.
Sloane texted late last night after Casey came storming in, all revved up and fuming. But Casey wouldn’t elaborate about how much information she managed to drag out of Fenn. If any. Sloane said she’d never seen her sister so enraged.
I try another tack, seeing if I can jostle his brain awake like pull-starting a lawnmower. “Sloane hasn’t decided yet about going to the cops with the video. It would help things a lot if you could make me understand what happened that night. Why you didn’t tell anyone.”
Fenn blinks but doesn’t seem capable of responding. Whatever it is that’s kept him guarding this secret, its hold has only gotten tighter. He does relax a little, however, after he manages to pick his way through some breakfast. Gets a little color back in his cheeks. Enough that he nods to acknowledge Lucas when he drops into a seat at our table.
“You hungover?” Lucas says with a grin, unwrapping a muffin. “You look like you woke up next to the toilet.”
Fenn shrugs and gulps a glass of juice. “Something like that.”
Lucas picks off a piece of his chocolate muffin and chews around it while he turns to me. “So, listen. I need a favor.”
The kid isn’t shy. I’ll give him that.
“Oh, yeah?”
“It has to do with my brother.”
At that, Fenn becomes alert, showing signs of life with mention of his best friend. He and Lucas talk about almost nothing else when they get together. But Gabe was before my time.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “What about him?”
“I finally know the name of the military school they sent him to.” His gaze flicks briefly to Fenn, whose shoulders have gone stiff. “Got it out of my Uncle Diego on the phone yesterday. Apparently he’s the one who helped Dad get Gabe a slot there. So I did some research and realized it’s even worse than we thought. They literally have him under, like, twenty-four-hour lock and key at this place.”
“All right. What’s my part in this?”
“If you’re up for the challenge,” he says with a goading smirk, “you can find a way to contact him for me.”
“Can’t you just ask your parents?”
Lucas snorts. “They haven’t spoken his name since he left. Mom starts muttering a prayer every time I mention it, and Dad loses his shit. They won’t let me talk to him. According to them, he shamed our family.”
Grinning, I shove some scrambled eggs into my mouth. “That’s some old-school shit.”
“Dude. You don’t know the half of it. Finding out your son is dealing drugs is like the ultimate shame for my dad. I doubt Gabe will ever be welcome in our house again.” The notion brings a cloud of sadness to Lucas’s eyes. “Anyway, I want to talk to my brother. Can you help?”
I consider it for a moment, because it’s a tough task and I know there isn’t much in it for me. Unlike most of his trust-fund peers, Lucas’s dad is a tightwad with cash. Which means Lucas is honestly kind of a mooch most of the time. So it’s not like I can expect any monetary compensation for this gig. I guess this is what they mean by goodness of your heart.
“Yeah, all right,” I tell him. Because it sounds like an interesting challenge, and I’ve gotten to know Lucas well enough that I understand how much it’s bothered him not talking to his big brother. “Text me the name of the school and anything that might be helpful.”
“Hey, uh…” Fenn concentrates on his scrambled eggs rather than look up. “If you do figure it out, I want to contact him too.”
I’m startled by the twinge of jealousy that ripples through me. I have to remind myself that no matter how close Fenn and I have been getting lately, we’ve still only known each other a few months. It makes sense he wants to talk to his longtime friend. When faced with the existential crisis of a broken heart, Sloane on a rampage, and possible jail time, of course he might need the counsel of someone who’s known him longer than the expiration on a carton of milk. And I imagine he’s feeling a little light on friends lately. Silas has made himself scarce the past couple of weeks, which means Lawson isn’t around much either. I see them at swim practice whether I like it or not, but Fenn’s gotten iced out. A casualty of Silas’s petty beef with me. Much as he can, Lawson has remained a neutral party. I think mostly because he’s even less impressed with Silas’s recent heel turn than I am.