“Knox told me what you did for him and his mom, and for the other boys. That was a very kind thing for you and Elizabeth to do.”
At the mention of Elizabeth’s name, Fallon deflates somewhat, the vibrant blue of his eyes dulling. There’s a story there, but one I’m sure he’s not going to tell me anytime soon. Is it Elizabeth that the jasmine reminds him of?
“Aurora, you and I both know the DNA test will come back proof-positive that you are one of us. You’ll officially be a Montgomery. You, me, and Trevor have lived hard lives. Nothing has been easy for us, regardless of whether we lived with money or not. You and I are survivors of the abuse from the people that should have loved us and protected us. Trevor and Tati are lucky. They had great mothers to show them affection and love. I see a lot of me in you. Hopefully, unlike me, you’ll never pick up any of my bad habits.”
Fallon stands up and comes over to me. He’s several inches taller than I am, and I have to crane my neck back to meet his eyes.
“You seem to be a very level-headed, well-balanced girl, despite everything you’ve lived through. Whatever happens next, prepare for it, enjoy it, use it, and help others with it. Your life, Aurora St. Claire, soon-to-be Montgomery, is about to change.”
Chapter 8
QuarterbackKing: Emergency. Need friend assist.
I look up from my book and over at JD who’s sitting across from where I am in the center quad. He’s currently surrounded by cheerleaders dressed in their uniforms, even though there isn’t a game today. Most of my lunch periods at school are spent outside reading if the weather is decent. I hate the cooped-up and loud ambiance of the lunchroom. Cam and I used to sit out here under the tall pine tree, and he would share his lunch with me since my staple included things like crackers and peanut butter, a plain apple, or whatever other meager rations I could buy with my tip money from the diner. Luckily for me, on the evenings I work, Pete sits me down and has me eat whatever special is on the menu, making sure I get a lot of vegetables and not just hamburgers and fries. His meatloaf, fried okra, and collard greens cooked in fat back, are the best.
JD’s head pops up over the throng of girls hoarding around him, his eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline as he sends me a pleading look. I must be a sucker for it, or for his handsome face in general, because I get up from my comfortable spot and walk over.
This is not you, Aurora. You don’t get involved. You don’t want to be noticed.
Fuck it.
“Hey, JD. We need to finish that assignment for Mr. Wilkins.”
Playing along, he replies, “That was due today?”
Mary Beth, one of the cheerleaders with bottle-blonde hair tied up in a humungous blue and yellow bow, turns around and pops a hand on her hip, then flips her hair back over her shoulder. “Mr. Wilkins didn’t give us any assignment.”
“It’s for extra credit,” JD jumps in. “Didn’t do well on the last test, so need to get my grade back up. Don’t want to get on academic probation before the first game.”
Another girl asks as JD takes my hand and pulls me away, “What test? Shit, did I miss the test?”
JD’s snicker has me suppressing my own chuckle before I remember that he’s holding my hand. My cheeks heat and something potent and alive begins to fire to life inside of me at his touch. No guy has ever affected me the way JD does, and it’s unnerving. I remove my hand from his much larger one.
He follows me back to my spot under the pine tree.
“You’re very good with letting the little white lies flow. You know, you could have just stood up and walked away if you didn’t want to be around them,” I say.
We both glance back over to the huddle of cheerleaders that are throwing daggers our way and I know those daggers are aimed solely at me.
“Yeah, but having you come rescue me was way more fun.”
I sit back down at the base of the pine and JD sits cross-legged in front of me. Noticing the book that I had been reading, he picks it up and scans the back cover. “This any good?”
I like reading anything I can get my hands on. Doesn’t matter the genre or topic or age level. Today, I’m readingDear Martin.
“It’s very powerful. I like books that say something important.”
“Mind if I borrow it when you’re done?”
I take my Honeycrisp apple out and bite into it, its tart and sweet juices exploding on my tongue. “I’m sure you can get your own copy from the library or download the e-book version.”
Those navy-blue eyes lift under long lashes, and I’m spellbound. “But I want to read your copy.”
I swallow the piece of apple that decides it wants to lodge itself in my throat. “Alright,” I hear myself saying, and he smiles like he just won a prize at the fair.
My heart heaves a great big thud, dislodging a brick from the fortifications surrounding it. I look away from his penetrating gaze and take another bite of apple to help ease the sudden dryness in my throat. A few students walk by and give us odd looks. I’m pretty sure if I peek back over to where Mary Beth is, she and her mini-me cohorts will still be staring death daggers at me.
“You know people are looking at us, probably wondering what Mr. Popular Quarterback is doing sitting with the poor girl from the wrong side of town.”
