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)
My ruse is busted when his eyes land on my car parked in the driveway. You would swear he can smell the stinky interior from a distance for how tightly he pulls his brows together.
His shock only stills his legs for half a second. He’s back marching toward the house before I can find an appropriate hiding spot.
He enters while I’m still standing in the entryway, looking daft.
“Hey,” he greets, his voice neither friendly nor cold. It is a bit of both. “What are you doing here?”
“Um—”
I thank my lucky stars that Trenton’s bad moods are only taken out on Cash when he jumps in to save me. We’ve become good friends over the past four weeks. “I asked her to come. I’m getting fitted for a prosthetic, but it’s a little hard to get to appointments when no one in your family drives.”
I glare at Cash when he murmurs, “Didn’t want to get in the car with Mom again?” That was a low blow, and he knows it because the words have barely left his mouth when he backtracks. “Fuck, Trenton, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Trenton’s narrowed eyes widen when he shifts them to me. Things have been rough between Cash and him since the accident, but I was hopeful that would have changed when it was disclosed to Trenton that nothing Cash could have done would have saved Tiph. She had massive internal injuries and a nicked artery. Chest compressions would have killed her faster and more painfully. As cliché as this sounds, she died as peacefully as she could. “Thanks for your help, Mac. I’ll see you next week.”
“Next week?” Cash asks as his eyes dart between his brother and me.
I’m a terrible liar, but I give it my best shot. “He has another appointment.”
Needing to leave before he calls out my fib, I muster up a fake grin, farewell him with a head bob, then hightail it to my car.
With my nerves rattled, it takes me a little longer to stab my key into the ignition and fire up the engine.
The delay is for the best when I spot Cash’s mother racing my way. “Are you heading back to campus?” When I nod, she asks, “Can I get a lift?”
“Um. Sure.” I push off a handful of study papers from the passenger seat before leaning over to unlock her door.
I shouldn’t have bothered. She slips into the passenger seat in the manner Cash exited Kamil’s convertible. Via the roof.
“Do you want me to take you somewhere in particular?”
Bourbon and a smell I can’t quite recognize fluffs up when she shakes her head. “No. Campus is fine.”
Although I find it strange that she wants to go to an area designed for people two decades younger than her, I pull on my seat belt before requesting she do the same.
She’s peeved by my request but does as asked since I refuse to put the gearstick into reverse until she does.
Almost an hour later, Cash’s mother directs me to a hip coffee shop I’ve been dying to visit. It is jam-packed with clientele, most of them students.
“Here is fine.” I’ve barely come to a halt when she throws open my door and climbs out.
“You’re welcome,” I mumble to her nonexistent thanks.
While seeking an opening, I witness a familiar car pulling into a space a few spots back. With the wealth at this school, Gabriel’s Bentley doesn’t stand out. It is the fact Cash’s mother stands by his car, waiting for him to exit that gains my utmost attention.
A beep startles me back to the present. After signaling for the driver to go around me, frustrating him since he was waiting for me to exit the only vacant parking spot, I kill the ignition then enter the coffee shop like I have a sudden hankering for caffeine.
This is one of the benefits of not standing out amongst a crowd. I order a beverage then linger to the side without Cash’s mother or Gabriel noticing my watch.
I crank my neck and stick out my ear when Cash’s mother gets irritated. “You said you’d give me three hundred.”
“Did I?” Gabriel isn’t the slightest bit ruffled by her annoyance. “I don’t recall that.”
She tosses a crumbled-up piece of paper onto his half of the table. “When you wrote this down, you said you’d give me three hundred.”
He doesn’t even look at her evidence before repeating, “I don’t recall that.” He drops his eyes to the hundred-dollar bill he placed between them. “If that isn’t good enough, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
She snatches up the bill, stands to her feet, then leans over the empty tabletop. I assume she’s going to batter his ear with the verbal tirade I was spared during our ride over, so I’m shocked when she asks, “Can you give me a ride?”