Well, I don’t need to rehash that. You heard me the first time.
I walk, my rage now spent, and my body exhausted. I don’t head straight home, either. I take a roundabout way and struggle to regain some of the peace I’d felt so tantalizingly close to achieving earlier, before the trooper intercepted me.
Ten minutes from my apartment, the bottom drops out of the sky, immediately soaking me to my skin. I tuck my phone into the lightweight waist pack. The pack is waterproof, my earbuds are, too, and I don’t bother picking up my pace.
Why should I?
Now that it’s all in the center of my mind, I can’t forget the smile on Junior’s face that fucking night at the fundraiser, a memory that flips back and forth with my memory of Emma’s sightless eyes staring at me.
The sounds of my screams in my ears.
She loved me. She quit school because she wanted me to go to college, wanted to help Mom pay the bills.
Believedin me, wanted me to finish my education and do great things.
I’mthe main reason she’s dead, because she approached Junior mostly for money formycollege education, and she concealed a secret from me that got her killed.
She was my big sister and always looked out for me, took care of me while Mom was working. Thought of me first. She would have been a fantastic mom one day, and she never got the chance to even have a boyfriend because she worked so much.
But what would she think of me now?
Thankfully, the rain helps hide my tears as I trudge the final distance back to my apartment. It’s been close to forty-five minutes since I left Casey, and because of the clouds and the rain it’s starting to get dark a little early.
Then I spot Casey’s car parked next to mine.
Motherfucker.
I guess we’re doing this, whether I like it or not.
She has a key to my apartment in case of emergencies, but she hasn’t been here since George’s return, and we never played here because we didn’t want nosy neighbors hearing anything.
Part of me considers turning around and just wandering in the rain until she finally goes away, except now I’m getting chilly. It’s breezy, the temperature’s dropped, the rain’s cold, and I’m…
Exhausted.
Dreading what I’m sure is going to be a massive showdown I no longer think I have the strength to endure, I fit my key into the lock and let myself inside.
Except it’s not Casey I find sitting on my couch.
It’s George.
Chapter Nineteen
I stand there, processing that George is actuallyhere, inmyapartment.
He sets his laptop aside, picks up a towel he apparently got from my bathroom cabinet, and brings it to me as I peel off my sodden sneakers and socks on the mat by my front door.
I take the towel from him. “Thanks,” I mutter. I pull my shirt off and drop it onto the mat, too.
As I towel my hair and torso dry, he stands there watching me with a sad expression that reminds me of the George of last year and not the man who smiles all the time now.
Dammit, I love this guy.
He’s not wearing his blazer, and the sleeves of his button-up are rolled up, his tie loosened, and the top button unfastened.
He’s a handsome man, a man people look up to—a father, a statesman.
A governor.
