Page 8 of Chaos at Westbrook High

I don’t answer that, my eyes welling with helpless tears as I wait for him to say what I already know.

“You’re seventeen years old,” he states, and even though his tone is final, it doesn’t sound cruel like I thought it would. It’s soft, which makes it even worse if that’s possible. “I am your legal guardian and you are my responsibility.”

I turn away and pull the hat off my head, dragging a hand through my hair as I look out at the city below through the floor to ceiling windows. “Why?” I whisper, my vision blurring with tears. “Why would she do this to me?”

“Probably because I have more money than everyone you know combined.”

I glare at him for that, partly because I wasn’t asking him, but mostly because he’s wrong and he knows it. That would never have been the reason.

“Or maybe it’s because I’m the only family you and your brother have left.”

“You are not my family,” I grit out, furious with myself for these stupid tears that won’t stop slipping.

I wish I wasn’t falling apart in front of him right now, and judging by the look on his face, he shares that same feeling. He looks uncomfortable as hell, his finger hooked beneath the collar of his shirt as he pulls on the black tie around his throat.

“Hailey…” he tries, but I’m not listening.

All I can think about is the fact that Valerie would hate this. She sent me to Bridgeport for a reason, and even though all I ever wanted when I was a kid was to go to Westbrook where I was born and raised, I don’t want it like this. I don’t want him to give it to me.

“What happens if I don’t go?”

“You already know what’ll happen,” he says quietly—almost apologetically—and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s talking about. My coffee shop. After Valerie died, he promised it would be mine on my eighteenth birthday, but his promises don’t mean shit to me these days. And would you look at that? He’s going back on his word already. I don’t know why I’m surprised. He is a Kingston, after all. Most of them are ruthless, entitled, lying motherfuckers who only care about staying on top. I used to like him, but my respect for him died around the same time Valerie did.

“You’re a real son of a bitch, you know that?”

“Yes, but this is about you, not me.” He sighs, seemingly unbothered by my name calling. “I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but you need to stop letting your pride ruin your life before it’s even really started. Go and finish high school, Hailey. Make some new friends. Go to college this fall. It’s what Valerie would have wanted.”

“You don’t know shit about Valerie.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“She wouldn’t want this,” I whisper, more to myself than him, my heart aching at the thought of the woman who loved me like I was her own. She wasn’t my mother, but she was the only one I ever knew. “She never would have agreed to this…”

“She was paranoid and afraid, but she always wanted the best for you. She’d want you to be happy.”

“And you think this will make me happy?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugs. “But you’re gonna try it and find out.”

I take a breath and wipe the skin beneath my eyes with my fingers, turning my face to look at him out of the corner of my eye. “It’s really this or I lose my shop?”

He nods, but I’m not sure I believe him.

“What’s the catch?”

“Convince him to talk to me.”

I laugh a little at that, shaking my head as I snatch the envelope to shove the papers back inside. “No.”

“Hailey—”

“I said no!” I raise my voice, struggling to control the sudden temper I’ve developed over the last couple months. “I might be your responsibility, but I’m not your errand girl. You tossed him away like he meant nothing. Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

He stares at me for a long moment, and I almost think he’s about to argue with me, but then he shuts his mouth and nods, conceding. “Fine. You’ll go to Westbrook?”

“As long as you promise not to tell them.”

“About?”

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