Good job, Bailey. You really thought this through, didn’t you?
I guess it was wishful thinking to hope he’d stop at home on his lunch break, but maybe I missed him. I couldgo find a coffee shop or something to sit in while I wait, but I don’t want to leave in case he comes back.
Except without a phone, I’m left alone with my thoughts, and it’s a dark place to be.
I was wrong to burn my soccer gear, but I want nothing to do with any of it. All it does is show me how different I am from everyone else in my family.
My parents made me stay behind with Henry and Mirabelle at the beach house because they didn’t want to reward any of my recent behavior with a trip to our house in France.
Whatever.It’s not like I wanted to watch Hunter rub his relationship in my face anyway.
Still, it hurt seeing the picture Kaitlyn posted of her and Hunter in France. I just reacted without thinking, even if I know I shouldn’t have done any of it.
They’re all liars, and I’m not going to let them turn me into one.
Maybe Carter’s mom will be able to give me answers.
As much as waiting for him to come home sucks, I’m just grateful he lives in a nice building. I drift into a light sleep while sitting in the hallway, and I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here when I’m nudged awake.
“Bailey? What are you doing here?” Carter asks, offering me a hand to help me up from the floor.
“I left home,” I say, really fucking glad to see him. I don’t have another plan if this doesn’t work. His dark eyes widen in surprise, and panic rises in me.Shit, maybe I should have called first.
“You did?”
“I did, and I’d love to explain, but I really have to pee. Can we talk after?” I ask, grabbing my backpack off the ground.
Carter laughs and opens the door wider for me to step in first. “It’s on the left, behind thekitchen.”
After relieving myself and splashing water on my face, I step out of the bathroom, ready to recite the speech I rehearsed in my head the entire bus ride here. Carter’s rinsing out a travel mug in the sink, and I don’t know if I’m more nervous for my speech, or to actually speak to someone else. It’s been months of silence.
Please don’t kick me out.
“Thanks,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry for just showing up here, but I was suffocating in the house. I couldn’t bear to hear the lies any more, and I-I needed to leave. I hoped I would be able to stay with you for a little bit until I decide what to do next? I have money to help pay for stuff if that matters?—”
Carter moves closer, resting his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, you’re more than welcome to stay. I know I’ve told you that before, and I was serious then just like I mean it now. Keep your money. I don’t want it. You’re family, and this is what family does, okay?”
Emotion threatens to overcome me, and it takes everything I have to swallow them down so I don’t burst into a pathetic puddle of tears. I nod stiffly, refusing to look him in the eye because I needed to hear I wasn’t alone.
Almost like he can tell, he squeezes my shoulders once before turning back to the sink to give me a moment I desperately need to collect myself.
“This might be a bad time to mention this, but I told my mom I’d come over for dinner tonight. We usually do dinner every Sunday, but it’s different this week. If you don’t want to go, I can tell her I’m not feeling good?” Carter asks, looking over his shoulder at me as he finishes washing his cup.
I don’t know if I’m ready to meet her tonight, but I didn’t come here to mess up his life.
“Sure,” I say, trying not to overthink this. I’m just grateful he’s letting me stay and not sending me packing.
I don’t know what I was expecting his mother to be like, but the woman in front of me was not the picture I’d conjured in my head. It doesn’t seem like she has a mean bone in her body.
I’ve been wondering what reason my parents had for even considering Kiera as a suspect for the fire at the Charlotte house, but I’m not seeing any red flags.
Even despite everything my parents did to her, she’s been nothing but kind to me all night.
The second Carter introduced me, I half-expected her to kick me out and blame me for my parents’ actions. Instead, she offered me a warm smile and pulled me into a hug. I can’t remember the last time someone hugged me.
Her daughter, Luna, is my age, and looks just like her, with the same dark hair and cornflower-blue eyes. Their other son, Ryan, is more similar to the man sitting at the end of the table.
“Bailey, do you play any sports?” Kiera asks, her voice soft and gentle like a breeze on a summer day.
