CHAPTER 16

I drop to the floor to retrieve the. Timothy's next to me in a second.


"I never asked for you to care." he mutters, kneeling at my side. "In fact, I've done everything I could to avoid this." We reach for the same coat hanger, neither of us letting go.







"Oh, really?" I retort. "You hang out with people you don't like. The only time you show the world what you're capable of is during gigs with Brandon at frat parties. Instead of putting yourself out there, you bury your talent and ambition and who you are because you're afraid to take what you want. If that's not a cry for help, I don't know what is."







I wrench the hanger from his grip and stand, replacing the hangers on the rack. My dress has ridden up embarrassingly high, and I work the hem back down my thighs as he stands, too.







"I don't need the psychoanalysis, Six." When I look up, his angry expression is inches away. "If you think I'm your boyfriend, you've made a big-ass mistake."







"Clearly." I brush my hands down my dress one last time emphatically. "I have all the responsibilities and none of the benefits."







His eyes flash, and I know I've pushed him too far.





I've seen Timothy out of control.







That changes tonight.







I know it as the words hang between us for a heartbeat. Two.







"That's what you want? Benefits?" Timothy's voice is a rasp.







His gaze lands on my mouth, and heat floods my body. He strokes a finger down my cheek gently. Then he rubs his thumb against my lower lip.







"You want me to kiss you until you can't breathe."







My mouth opens on instinct, my breath trembling out. I don't know when I'll need another because the way he's looking at me, I might die right here. As if he knows what I'm thinking and likes it, his eyes darken more.







"Or run my hands up this dress the way I've been thinking about all night."







He hitches a finger under the hem and traces a slow path upward.







Somehow, we're still alone in this hallway, but we won't be for long.







Anyone could walk in and see his hand up my skirt, inching to the apex of my thighs.







"If I go high enough" his voice is drugging. "I'll find all your secrets. Written and otherwise."







I'm throbbing. Shock twines with desire desire in my gut.







I'm in a restaurant thirty feet from my family, and I'm soaked for him.







It's messed up, but I want this, so fucking much.







More than that, knowing he's here, a breath away, and that he wants it too...







It's the biggest turn-on.







Trying to reconcile my former friend with the popular assholes I thought betrayed me with the one who's in front of me is impossible.







I give up trying.







Timothy leans closer, his hair tickling my neck and his mouth a hot caress against the shell of my ear.







"I could steal you out of this restaurant. We could take my bike and run away. Leave your Dad, the assholes, the expectations."







I'm drowning. The wanting and craving and longing combine in a writhing mass of guilty need that expands to fill my entire being.







"But what happens then?" he murmurs. His touch falls away, and I nearly moan in protest.







I blink once, twice, before the soft sound of footsteps on carpet alerts me to the woman making her return journey from the bathroom, steadfastly avoiding eye contact.







'I hope you have a plan for then," Timothy says once she's past. "Because that's where I get stuck."







When I meet his gaze, I'm startled to see the fire behind his eyes is leashed once more.







The truth slams into me and leaves me aching. He's not asking for real, he's proving a point. That even if I want him and he wants me, we can't be together.







In his world, we can't.







I take a deep breath, willing my heart to stop racing as I tug on my hem with one hand, smooth my hair with the other.







"We'd figure it out together." I say, and the words come out surprisingly level. "Except you don't want to."







I turn and head straight into one of the single-stall bathrooms, slamming the door hard enough the frame shakes.





Some moments seem destined to remain mysterious even if you stop, rewind, replay them from a million angles. Until last night, my most recent was the moment the woman calling herself my mother approached me at Dad and Haley's wedding, pressed that envelope into my hand with pleading eyes, and added to the uncertainty I'd always had about my place in this family. Now, it's the scene in the hallway with Timothy that haunts me when I drive home after dinner alone. I stare out the window at the lights of the pool house for a long time before yanking the curtains closed. After I close my eyes, I'm transported back to that hallway, remembering his sensual words, his searing touch, the look of pure desire on his face. Still, it's the mask of regret and frustration as we stepped apart that stays with me. I know if we get caught, My Dad will lose his shit, maybe even send Timothy away. None of that explains why Timothy looked as if he'd betrayed himself by his words and actions. Somehow, I fall asleep. After grabbing a coffee in the thankfully quiet kitchen the next morning, I return to my room and shut the door. In the top drawer of my desk, I find a familiar envelope. I run my fingers over the name on the front, the return address, as I have a hundred times. I'm aching to open it. It's been sitting there for a year, untouched. Waiting for the right moment. Which isn't when you're pissed at the world. But I'm too worked up to deny myself. Ripping at the seal makes me feel like I've crossed another point of no return, and my hands shake as I unfold the paper.



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Dear My Emily,

Your father wants you to believe I didn't care about you. I did. I told him immediately I was pregnant. It took me two months to get through his people and get to him. He came to see me and told me he didn't care. He looked me in the eyes and said it wasn't his problem. You weren't his problem. Eighteen months after you were born, a lawyer showed up with adoption paperwork. He promised if I didn't sign it, he's get me fired from my job. I hated it, but I signed it. I was afraid. What I didn't fully understand was the NDA (Non-Disclosure Agreement), which meant I couldn't talk about any of this or I'd be sued bankrupt. If you want to reach out to me, I've included my email address and mailing address. It would mean the world to me to see you my Baby Emily, my beautiful daughter. I miss you so much.


Love you always,
Mildred Schein

Your Mother


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It's not a long letter, but my breath hitches as I struggle to get through the entire thing. I've always intuited on some level that I didn't fit in, that my Dad didn't want me, but I told myself it was a bullshit. If this true... It's evidence he didn't want me. I pace my room, up and down the line of music boxes It's me. There's something wrong about me, something that makes it impossible to love me. Wow, that's heavy. But I need to get these feelings out, replace them with something better. If I can just get the right words, the right phrase, on my skin, it'll remind me I can handle this. But the words don't come, and the emotions claw at me, scrambling to get out. I take my notebook and a pen over to my bed, and I write. I don't stop. All of it pours out. Every line on the page is like tugging at a thread inside me, unraveling one more ball of wants and needs and fears. My phone buzzes, making me jump. Somehow, it's been nearly two hours. AVERY: We working on English after lunch? Jessy wants in I tuck the letter into the back of my notebook and set both on my desk before taking a shower, scorching away what's left of the feelings until I'm empty. "Have you seen Timothy today?" Haley asks when I head downstairs for breakfast at noon. "He seemed upset last night, and his bike's gone." "Nope." I play with Sofia and study my Dad as he fixes a coffee. He keeps secrets from the world, but now I wonder how much he keeps hidden from me too. "I think you can be un-grounded." he decides under Haley's watchful gaze. "If you keep up your schoolwork." The relief isn't as big as I'd expected, like a single brick sliding off my chest and leaving ninety-nine more. "Freedom" I inform Sofia solemnly, clapping. "Free-dom." She moves her arms, trying to clap along, and laughs at our game. What if for a year and a half, a year older than Sofia is now my Dad knew I existed and wished I didn't? Before I can play that out, the doorbell rings. Avery and Jessy fall inside the moment I open it. "So...homework and snacks?" My friend holds up a box of mini cupcakes. Jessy wrinkles her nose. "Those will go straight to my ass." "Good. More for me."
Avery's already regaling us with stories of debate team as we settle into my room. "Ooh, what's this?" Jessy asks, glancing at the notebook. "Nothing." I grab for my journal, but she's too fast. "Is that your poetry assignment for English?" Jessy asks as she thumbs through the pages. The letter remains tucked in the back, but my breath is tight in my chest. She flips through to the pages I was writing today, emptying my soul onto the page. "Whoa, these are intense." Her gaze flicks to mine, filled with anticipation. "Tell me they're not about Chris?" "No. Besides," I go on, eager to change the subject. "isn't he dating Carla?" "Really?" Avery makes a face. "Scratch that. They're perfect for each other." "I can't see it lasting." Jessy comments, surprising us. "Chris' obsessed with himself, and Carla has the attention span of a flea. Except when it comes to what she can't have." "Well, she's running out of time if she wants to try to steal lead in the musical." "You've got balls, I'll give you that." Jessy shakes her head. "You're getting really good in rehearsal. You have some secret sauce you want to share with the rest of us." Timothy Adams. "I have nothing to lose." I say at last, and she frowns. "We all have something to lose." I hold out a hand, and after a second, Jessy passes me the notebook. I tuck it into my desk drawer. "Let's study in the dining room." Jessy shrugs as we collect our books. "Fine. Bathroom?" I point her in the right direction. "Meet you there."