Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Very few things felt worse than that as a kid—than believing someone cared when all they were doing was using you.
What’s she want now?
I press the heel of my palm to my forehead. “I’m working. Don’t have time for chitchat.”
“Aw, come on. You could give me five minutes to catch up. I heard you’re on that tour bus anyway. You probably have lots of down time.” She’s been tracking the publicized tour stops. Not good. Not good.
My chest is tight. “What’d you want?” As I ask it, O’Malley, Vance, Oscar, and Ian crowd the kitchenette, and I dodge their intrusive, overly concerned stares.
“I heard you’re not actually dating that Hale girl. That it’s one big scam. There’s a lot of opportunities in that, you know.”
I’m supposed to play along. “Yeah?”
“I’ll be in Salt Lake tomorrow. We should talk then.”
“Can’t. Like I said, I’m working.” I rotate away from the audience and stare out at the blurry Arizona landscape as the bus treks along. “But I’ll call you back tomorrow. We can talk about it then.”
“Looking forward to it. Take care, honey.”
I hang up and lower my phone. It hasn’t fully sunk in yet—what just happened. I’m processing at a snail’s pace.
“Who was that?” O’Malley asks me.
“The Easter bunny,” I mutter. “Says he prefers parsnips over carrots.”
No one’s laughing, partly because I can’t hide my emotions from my face.
Oscar’s silence is the most biting. Normally he’d be the one to volley a joke back. Instead, he’s shaking his head. “Really, bro. Who was that?”
I wipe a hand over my mouth. “My mom’s friend Vanessa. She’s been tracking the tour. She wants to meet up in Salt Lake for something. She’s been fed the same lie the rest of my family has—that I’m fake-dating Luna, using her, and…” I trail off at a jarring thought, unblinking.
“What is it?” Ian has an authoritative presence. He’s taking this whole “I have seniority” thing to heart. Only problem is that Oscar technically is the most senior here. But I’m guessing that doesn’t count when Oscar is Omega.
These extraneous details are strangely calming me. I take a few breaths. “My dad cautioned me that there’d be a time where the family would need proof that I’m using Luna. I don’t know what she’ll ask me to do, but I said I’d call her back tomorrow to stall and figure out a plan.”
“How well do you know her?” O’Malley asks me.
I shake my head. “I haven’t talked to her in years.”
“But she’s a threat?” Ian asks to ensure.
“I don’t think she’s well-liked by most of the Donnellys. I don’t even know if she has that many friends who’d be considered threats. I think she’d like to get in through me, though.”
“We should nip this here,” Ian says to Oscar.
They all throw out strategies, the main one being to cancel the Salt Lake City tour stop. It gains traction, and they’re talking around me while I begin to accept what’s going on.
My nose flares, and I grind back an onslaught of emotion. This should be over. I sent the rotten apples to jail. There shouldn’t be this dangly little thread hanging loose, but my mom—why would my mom send Vanessa to me like that?
My head is pounding in my hands.
“He shouldn’t be in contact with anyone but Sean and Bridget,” Oscar says. “He’s not supposed to be roped in further.”
“He shouldn’t even be talking to Sean or Bridget,” O’Malley refutes. “If it weren’t for them, this woman wouldn’t be crawling towards him. They will keep pulling Paul back in.”
My dad had nothing to do with this. It’s getting harder to defend them. I hate that they might be proving O’Malley right.
It’s a slow-sinking blade in the gut. Raw emotion starts to cloud my vision. On automatic, I rise from the table. “I need some air,” I tell them and shove my feet in my shoes. I head to the driver.
Novak is blissfully unaware of the shit going on. So when I request to stop on the side of the road, he’s all confused wrinkles.
He still does it.
I get the fuck off the bus.
The dry Arizona air is brittle to intake. A million stars speckle the clearest night sky I’ve ever seen, not a single cloud. No haze. Milky blue and stunning violet shades flow cohesively together up above. Lit brighter by a waxing gibbous. Luna told me the moon phase for March 15th.
One day shy of a full moon.
Cacti jut up from the reddish desert, and rock formations carve out their own towering homes among the vast scenery. There isn’t a single soul on the deserted road. My blood won’t cool. The pain in my chest won’t let up. How far can I run?
I walk fifty paces into the desert sand. Far enough away that I can’t be heard by anyone but the snakes and the coyotes and the kangaroo rats.