“Is that so?” he mused and resumed eating his dinner. “He doesn’t know what pain is.”
I couldn’t tell if that was a statement or a threat. But I did know that it would take nothing at all for Dad to decide I was on thin ice as well. One crack, with Tucker or math or anything else, and I’d fall right in.
Chapter 18
Xander
I read the text from Emery and stopped on my way to the library.
All the study rooms are full. We have to meet at my house. Do you have the address?
I texted back,Yes.
It’d been emblazoned on my mind for seven years, and I’d handwritten it on more letters than I cared to count.
Her reply came fast.Oh, right. See you soon.
I rode my bike through Castle Hill, toward the coast and along Ridge Road, with every muscle in my body screaming from yesterday’s row practice. I’d dreaded being moved to stroke seat but accepted the challenge, and it paid off. Six minutes, forty-eight seconds was elite-level speed for a two thousand meter, and CHA hadn’t come close to touching it in years. Even Tucker gave me a grudging nod of approval in the clubhouse. Rhett’s expression promised murder at a future date.
He’ll push me off that bridge when we come to it.
I pedaled down Emery’s long driveway, where she was checking her phone as she leaned against her white BMW. With the sun peeking through the clouds, the strands of her blond hair glowed golden. She wore tight jeans and a soft, white sweater. All of her looked soft and warm and…
Luscious.
“Stop it,” I muttered under my breath as I approached, walking my bike. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said, then looked pained. “God, I forgot you don’t drive. I’m sorry, I should have given you a ride, but I’m not thinking clearly. Sort of panicking about that midterm.”
“It’s fine,” I said, glancing up at the huge white house. Ten of mine could fit in hers. The cars in the circular drive were luxury vehicles—not one rusted Buick. Everything about her house felt like a reflection of what I didn’t have.
“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m here?” I asked as I parked my bike.
Emery walked us through a side entrance. “Of course,” she said. “My parents know you tutor me.”
We’d come into a large, stainless steel and white marble kitchen where a portly older woman was preparing dinner.
“Hello, Miss Emery.” She smiled at me warmly, if curiously. “And who is your friend?”
“Hi, Belinda. This is Xander,” Emery said, rummaging in the pantry. She grabbed a bag of chips and two bananas and dumped them in my arms. “Something to drink?”
“Uh, just water, thanks.”
She retrieved two bottles of water from the fridge. “Bye, Belinda.”
“Bye, Miss Emery,” Belinda said and went back to her carrot-chopping with a small smile.
Emery led me through her immense, immaculate house. A house filled with everything one could possibly want, yet it felt oddly empty. And cold. We were halfway up the stairs when a woman started down.
“Hi, Mom,” Emery said. “This is Xander Ford. He’s the mathtutor I told you guys about.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Wallace,” I said, noting that I’d been downgraded fromfriendtotutorin the presence of her mother.
Emery’s mom was beautiful, with blond hair and the same blue-green eyes as her daughter, but she seemed wraithlike. Almost hollow. As if she were made of paper and the slightest breeze would blow her away. She didn’t reply but stared at me with something like alarm on her face.
“Mom?” Emery said warily. “You okay?”
Her mother blinked and tore her gaze from me. “Emery, your father will be home at five o’clock.”
