Page 86 of Stone Vows

“It’s not a nice car,” I tell them. “I bought it for five hundred dollars off a nice old man who owns the corner grocery. Turn here,” I say, seeing my street.

“I’ve got GPS, Lexi,” Caden reminds me.

Of course he does. I sometimes forget about GPS, what with my twenty-one-year-old car that doesn’t even have working air conditioning.

Kyle looks back at me. “How did you buy a car without identification?”

“I gave him cash and explained I didn’t have enough left to pay for the tag, so he let me keep his tag that he had recently renewed. I guess I just figured I’d deal with it later.”

“What if you’d gotten pulled over or been in an accident?” Kyle asks.

“I only drove it when necessary. To Ellie’s doctor. To a big box store once every few months. We pretty much walked everywhere when the weather allowed. And we stayed at home if it didn’t.”

“We’ll take care of the car,” Caden says.

A few minutes later, Caden pulls into the driveway of my cozy little cottage. It needs a paint job. One of the shutters is falling off its hinge. And the yard is in terrible disarray. But it’s been home for over six months.

“How can you afford this, Lex?” Kyle asks, getting out of the truck.

“Do you remember how I told you I’d be okay, that I still had something to sell?”

He nods.

Then Caden says, “Your engagement ring.”

“Yes.”

“I always wondered if it was real,” he says.

“It was. And he never let me forget it.”

Caden shakes his head in disgust. “I should have paid more attention. I was so stupid. So focused on playing baseball that I let him . . .”

“You didn’t let him do anything, Caden,” I say, pulling Ellie from her car seat. “If anyone is at fault here, it’s me. I knew what he was doing to me was wrong. Yet I stayed. I have no one to blame but myself.”

Kyle kicks a rock across my yard. “I’d say there’s no one to blame but that bastard who calls himself a man.”

“Hey there, Miss Elizabeth,” Mrs. Peabody says, coming over from the main house next door. “Who are these fine-looking gentlemen you’ve brought with you today?”

Kyle holds his hand out in greeting. ‘I’m—”

“Joe,” I say, interrupting his introduction. “These are my brothers, Joe and John. And this is Mrs. Peabody. She rents me her guest house.”

Mrs. Peabody giggles. “Joe, John, and Elizabeth Smith. Your parents sure were simple folk, huh?”

“That they were,” Kyle says. “At least they didn’t name us after adult film entertainers.”

I cover my laugh and elbow him in the ribs.

Mrs. Peabody laughs at the joke she doesn’t understand.

“Well, Mrs. Peabody, we’ve convinced our sister to move back to Ne—”

“Nevada,” I say, glaring at Caden. “I’m moving back home to Las Vegas.”

I’ve had over a year to perfect my ability to lie to people on the spot. It comes naturally to me now. But Kyle and Caden—they don’t have a clue how harmful revealing even small, seemingly inconsequential details could be. Regular people might overlook that kind of stuff. Cops don’t. Grant wouldn’t.

“Oh, how delightful,” Mrs. Peabody says. “It will be nice for you and little Ellie to live close to family. But, oh, how I will miss this adorable face.” She pinches Ellie’s cheeks.

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