Page 50 of The Facade

I glanced at the backseat of Carter’s truck to where Cambrielle was already scooting toward the middle and making room for me.

“It wasn’t that bad,” I said with a shrug.

But Carter stepped closer, put a heavy hand on my shoulder, and said, “I think you’ll be more comfortable with Nash.”

And when his steely gaze met mine, I had the feeling that we weren’t really talking about me having enough room for my long legs.

Did he somehow know what had happened at the park?

Because if Carter knew what I’d just done with his sweet and innocent little sister, I was a dead man.

I didn’t sleepwell that night. Which was normal, I guess. But instead of wandering through my house in my bare feet and boxers like I’d been doing since my parents returned home, I just tossed and turned and had vivid dreams of kissing Cambrielle again in the gazebo or in her bedroom, or behind the falls.

And the dreams were good. They were so good and offered relief from my usual dreams that centered around life without my mom. But then the dreams would take a twisted turn and Carter or Mr. Hastings, or even Mr. Richardson’s ghost would find me kissing Cambrielle and I’d be running off into the woods to escape.

When I awoke more tired than I’d been when I’d gone to bed, I tried not to relive the good parts of the dream. Tried to put some other girl’s face on Cambrielle’s body while I fantasized about the kiss from last night. But it would immediately shift back to the girl with a heart-shaped face and aqua-blue eyes whom I really shouldn’t be dreaming about, and I knew I was in trouble.

Because I couldn’t like Cambrielle.

It was so not something that should be happening right now. Not when I had so many other things to worry about.

But as I did my Saturday chore of cleaning my bathroom, and while I sat next to my mom watching old episodes ofGood Witch, my mind kept wandering back to last night in the gazebo and wondering if Cambrielle was thinking about it, too.

She had to be thinking about it, right?

I couldn’t have been the only one to feel something, could I?

I mean, I’d kissed a lot of girls during my high school career—more than I could remember if I was being honest. And even though I’d thought they’d been great kisses at the time, a fun way to pass a lazy Friday night, I’d never been so distracted by a kiss or a girl that I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

And I couldn’t freaking concentrate on anything else today.

“What are you thinking about?” my mom asked, her speech slower and more slurred than it had been a week ago.

“Nothing much,” I said, not sure I wanted to get into it. My mom loved Cambrielle. In fact, Cambrielle was one of her all-time favorite people—the honorary daughter that she’d never been able to have.

But even though I knew she loved me more than Cambrielle, by at least a little bit, she probably wouldn’t like to know that when I wasn’t worrying about her, I was fantasizing about how to convince Cambrielle to forget her re-do kiss with Ben tonight and kiss me instead.

“You know it’s not good to lie to your mother.” She used her good hand to pause the show. “What’s on your mind?”

I picked at one of the tiny pompoms on the throw pillow beside me. “It’s nothing.”

But my mom, apparently more perceptive today than she had been in recent days, arched an eyebrow and asked, “Is it a girl?”

“No.” I ticked my gaze up to meet her warm brown eyes. “There is no girl.”

At least, there shouldn’t be one right now. And definitely not the sister of my best friends.

“So what’s her name?” Mom asked, her dark-brown eyes lighting up.

“Nothing.”

The half-smile that had become her natural smile now, thanks to the paralysis, lifted her lips when she said, “So does ‘Nothing’ know you like her?”

I rolled my eyes, knowing my mom wasn’t about to give up on this. “No, Mom. She doesn’t.”

“Ah, so thereisa girl.”

I sighed, feeling my cheeks warm with embarrassment. My mom had always been a hopeless romantic and trying to figure out who I may or may not like had always been a favorite hobby of hers.

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