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)
“You gonna elaborate on that?” RJ grumbles when I don’t continue.
Fuck. He can’t leave it at that, can he? Always so curious, my stepbrother.
“Summer before junior year, Gabe and I were in the Hamptons. We crashed with Lawson at first, until his psycho dad kicked us out because we were partying too hard. So we went to stay at this chick Molly’s place and the party continued. Our last night there, we find out Molly lives next door to some star player for the New York Yankees, and she says the guy has this ridiculous watch closet—”
“The fuck’s a watch closet?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. Dude was obsessed with expensive watches and had an entire closet full of them. All displayed on shelves in their little fancy boxes. I thought it was hilarious and, well, like I said, I was beyond wasted that entire summer.”
“Christ. You broke into the Yankee player’s house?”
“Oh yeah. Long story short, after everyone went to bed, I got it in my fool head that it would be fun to break in and steal one of his precious watches. And somehow, I fucking managed to do it. This dude’s security was nonexistent. Only one camera. Didn’t even set his alarm before he went out. He and his lingerie model girlfriend were at a club in town, and I literally waltzed upstairs to their bedroom and had my pick of the watch closet. I chose the coolest-looking one and booked it out of there.”
“Gabe wasn’t with you?”
“Christ, no. Gabe’s not an idiot. He tried to talk me out of it, but I did it anyway. Left after he went to sleep. Next morning was a shitshow. The Yankee finds his watch missing and calls the cops. We saw them pull up next door, and I ran to the beach and chucked the watch into the ocean. They questioned the neighbors, including us. I asked Gabe to cover for me, and he did it, no hesitation. Said I was with him all night, that I’d passed out cold and he was taking care of me, making sure I didn’t vomit in my sleep and die or something. Obviously they didn’t believe us at first, but that’s when Gabe’s dad stepped in. Mr. Ciprian used to be the Attorney General of the state, so he still had a lot of clout there.”
“Gabe lied to his dad too?”
“Yup. Swore on the Bible—and the Ciprians are, like, super Catholic, so trust me, that meant something to Mark Ciprian. Gabe had my back, and his dad believed Gabe’s story.” I shake my head. “The Yankee was out for blood. If Mr. Ciprian hadn’t covered for me, thanks to Gabe, I would have seen time. No question about it.” Now I hang my head, the shame once again rising in my throat. “I barely knew Casey on prom night, man. She was basically a stranger. My loyalties weren’t with her back then. They were with my best friend, who I owed big-time.”
“But she’s not a stranger anymore,” RJ quietly reminds me.
“Well aware of that.”
RJ has no idea how much it’s hurt carrying this around. Thinking the worst of my best friend. Imagining him as the type of person who’d leave a girl for dead. He has no idea what it does to your own understanding of people, of yourself. I chose to protect Gabe over Casey, then tried to atone for it by protecting her after the fact. But it’s not enough.
She deserves nothing less than the truth.
During our entire friendship, I’ve constantly been one careless syllable away from spilling my heart out. But then I would think about Gabe. He’s my best friend and I’m half in love with her, but right now I’ve got neither and she’s slipping further away. Every day Casey doesn’t get answers from me, it’s breaking her down a little more. Soon, she’ll be in so many pieces, she might not find her way back together. Back to me.
Last night, she said she wanted to forgive me.
I just need to give her a reason.
The conversation is cut short by a knock on the door, bringing stricken expressions to both our faces.
RJ gets up to answer it, a second later glancing over his shoulder in relief. Not my execution orders, then. Tresscott is taking his sweet-ass time with this, intentionally prolonging my torture.
“Yo,” someone says, and a pair of seniors trudge into our room.
The taller one, Xavier, nods hello at me before addressing my stepbrother. “Hey, so my two cousins are visiting from Manhattan this weekend. Was hoping to bring them to the fights tonight.”
RJ stares at him. “So?”
“So, ah…” Xavier shifts his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Can they come?”
“What the fuck do I care?”
From my perch on the sofa, I snicker under my breath. Poor Remington refuses to accept reality.