“Let’s go,” Jackson says, pulling her away.
They return to their cars and park on the street while I slowly back out of the driveway.
“I fucking hate that guy,” Braden mutters.
“Yeah, he’s an ass. I can’t believe he blocked us in like that.”
Braden looks at me. “How’d you know Kristen?”
“What?” I ask, my heart beating faster.
“Kristen acted like she knew you. Have you met her before?”
“Yeah. At school. I went to get my books and she was there.”
“What about Jackson?”
“What about him?”
“Ever meet him before?”
“No.” I nervously laugh. “When would I have met him?”
Why would Braden ask me that? Did I act like I knew Jackson? I didn’t think I did, but maybe my acting skills could use some work.
We’re at the house now, and I park in front, then turn the engine off.
“Actually, now that I think about it,” I say, “I think I did see him one day when I was out walking. I didn’t know that’s where he lived.”
“I fucking hate it. I keep telling my dad we need to move but he won’t do it, which is stupid because he doesn’t even live here. Trystan and I should be the ones deciding where we live.”
Braden gets out of the car and slams the door. I follow behind him to the house.
“Do you know that girl?” I ask as we go inside. “The one with Jackson?”
“Kristen Reynolds,” he says. “As intheReynolds.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, following him to the kitchen.
“It means she’s loaded. Like a hundred times richer than us. Maybe a thousand. Who the fuck knows? Point is, she’s filthy rich.” He opens the fridge and takes out a protein drink.
“Did you go out with her?”
He eyes me suspiciously. “Why do you think I went out with her?”
I shrug. “Trystan said everyone at Twisted Pine has dated each other. I just assumed you’d gone out with her.”
“Yeah,” he says with a humorless laugh. “We went out.” He chugs his protein drink, then tosses the bottle in the trash. “I’ll be in my room.”
“Braden, wait!” I run after him.
“What?” he says, sounding annoyed.
I was going to ask him about my dad but decide not to. He’s still angry about Jackson and Kristen showing up. This isn’t the time to question him about my dad. I need to ask him when he’s in a good mood. And after we’ve spent more time together. If I can get him to like me even a tiny bit, maybe he’ll tell me whathis dad won’t. There’s a good chance Braden knows where my dad is or knows how to find out.
“Never mind,” I say.
Braden goes upstairs to his room. I hear his door slam, then music turning on, blaring so loud the neighbors can probably hear.
