Page 282 of Filthy Elites

The floor creaks and my gaze darts to the hall. A moment passes and no one emerges from either of the bedrooms, but I had better get out of here so Aubrey doesn’t wake up and find me snooping through the remnants of her life.

Before I go, I leave a new appointment card on the counter for her.

I let myself out the front door, but halfway to my car, I can’t remember if I locked it. The crime rate is low in Baymont, but even if there’s little chance of someone breaking in the one night her door is unlocked, I won’t leave her unprotected like that.

I go back to the door and turn the knob. Sure enough, the door opens.

I think about locking it from the inside, but quickly change my mind.

I haven’t had an opportunity to test my copy of her house key to make sure it works. I wasn’t sure I ever would unless I ended up needing to use it, but now I’m here when they’re both asleep, so I might as well try it out.

I draw out my wallet, using a finger to spread the tightest pocket. I tilt the wallet, and the copy I made of Aubrey’s house key falls into my palm.

It’s shiny and new, a tight fit when I slide it into the lock, but once I’ve turned it, I try the knob again and the door is locked.

Satisfied, I nod and tuck the key back in my wallet.

I’m a realist, so I can foresee a scenario or two in which I might want into Aubrey’s house, but she might not want tolet mein.

Good to know my key works just in case I ever need to use it.

EIGHTEEN

Aubrey

When my alarmgoes off the next morning, I wait for the usual dread to sweep over me. Exhaustion, my constant companion, to beg me to stay in bed.

But I actually feel surprisingly well-rested.

I reach for my phone on the nightstand, and when I lift up to grab it, I notice something else.

Money.

That wakes me up the rest of the way. I frown, turning off the alarm and sitting up on the edge of the bed. A bunch of twenties are spread out underneath my charge cord. I grab them and count them out on my lap.

It’s $400.

Dare must have put it here before he left.

I feel bad that I fell asleep on him. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

I think about texting him, but I know there’s little point. It feels recent to me, but it was last night. Besides, I’ll see him at school.

Since I was cuddling with him in the clothes he likely wore out in the world all day, I take a shower and get dressed for the day before I make breakfast.

Mom is awake in her chair in the living room when I come in. The house is quiet, and she has a book open on her lap.

“Good morning, honey,” she says.

“Hey.” I lean in and kiss her temple before heading to the kitchen. “You want a spinach omelet this morning?”

“Sounds good,” she says, closing her book. “Did you leave that appointment card for me on the counter?”

I frown, grabbing a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. “Appointment card?”

She grabs a little white card off the end table and holds it up. “What is this? Why do you have an appointment card for a doctor in New York?”

“New York?”

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