Page 83 of Wicked Games

“You’renotabout to ask how I feel,” I interrupt. “I’d rather go back to my uncle’s than answer that.”

“Fine.” Eli crosses his arms.

“Fine.” I glare at him.

Still, I admit that the company is a nice change. I take my medication on time and eat as much pizza as I can, topping it off with ice-cold water that clears my head. They fill me in on everything that happened at school, the scrimmage on Friday, the party on Saturday that was a big fat bummer.

All in all, I didn’t miss much.

Except Margo. She admitted—or close to it—she wished I had come to her over the weekend. And even if she didn’t say it, I could see the hurt in her eyes.

We have a push-and-pull relationship. She shoves me away, I reel her back in. Always. Except now she’s the one doing the reeling, and my heart thumps extra-hard at that. She’s not getting rid of me, even if everyone wants to keep us apart.

Once my friends leave and Eli retreats to his room, I slip on a zip-up sweatshirt and shoes and grab my keys. I ignore the pain in my torso, the twinge in my knee climbing the stairs.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where I’m going.

I park outside Margo’s house and get out of the car. It’s barely seven o’clock, so I stroll up to their front door. Who’s going to be more upset by my presence—Lenora or Robert?

I ring the doorbell, tucking my hands in my pockets.

Lenora opens the door. Her eyes widen, and she goes to close the door in my face. I block it with my foot, trying not to smile. It’s a mother’s instinct—pure protection. Margo probably doesn’t see it, but I do. They care about her. It’s sweet.

My fucked-up face probably doesn’t help matters.

“What do you want?” she asks. Her gaze goes to my foot blocking the door.

“To talk,” I say. “To Margo.”

She stares at me for a moment. “You hurt her.Us. Tried to come between our family.”

“I did.” I roll my shoulders back, letting the pain radiate down my spine. It keeps me from getting distracted. “And I’m sorry.”

Her lips press into a thin line. “Tell me why I should let you in.”

“Who is it?” Robert calls.

She glances back and tells him, “Caleb Asher.”

She opens the door wider, revealing her husband.

He gapes. “What happened—? Are you okay?”

“Just got into a car accident,” I lie. “It’s why I missed school today. The airbags did a bit of damage.”

“Caleb?”

They both turn. Margo stands behind them, bare feet, sweatpants, one of my t-shirts. When did she take that? The day after the masquerade ball?

A lead weight falls into my stomach.

“Let him in,” she whispers.

Lenora frowns. “No?—”

“You don’t have to,” Robert finishes. “It’s unavoidable to see him at school, but here? This is your safe place.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “I know you don’t get it, but he…”

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