Page 15 of Always Knew It Was You

“Sorry,” she says. “I should have knocked.”

Mrs. Peach sighs. “Yes, but no one knocks in this town. Especially not your generation, who has abandoned all pretense at decency. What do you need, dear?”

“My mom sent me over with these.” She gestures to a cooler in her hand. “She hunted it today and thought you might want some.”

“Oh, how nice.” Mrs. Peach moves away from me to take the cooler and heads to the kitchen. “What is it?”

“Pheasant.”

“Lovely. Let me put this in the freezer before it goes bad.”

As she leaves, an awkward silence descends with Tate walking closer to me. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I answer quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just having a bad day.”

“Do you want to talk about it?’’

I shake my head. I don’t want to tell beautiful, hyper-capable Tate who graduated her physical therapy program with honors, how I screwed up a test and may not be able to finish college as a result.

“Well, I already heard some of it,” she continues. “It’s about your tuition for the next semester, right?”

Annoyance interrupts my sadness. I don’t want to talk about this with her but I don’t have a choice. Avoiding the conversation now would be too rude for the small town that raised me, so I try to keep it simple. “Uh, yeah. I lost my scholarship.” I shrug. “But it’s not a big deal. Just means I’ll have to take a break from school for some time until I can save up enough money to go back.”

“Or you could just ask Emma for an advance at work,” Tate suggests. “I’m sure she would understand and would love to–”

“No,” I say instantly. Emma and her grandpa have done enough to help me already, too much that is. Helping me with a job, giving me a place to stay sometimes for weeks on end. Grandpa is the only reason why I’ve celebrated my last few birthdays. Ever since he found out that my family doesn’t even remember my birthday, he’s made it a point every year to throw me a small get together at his house, just me, him, Mrs. Peach, Emma, and Yule, the cook at the Tiki Bar.

And although my cousin was the reason Emma’s home got broken into recently, she’s never held it against me. She’s been so considerate of me all my life. I can’t ask her for anything else. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Her fiancé is loaded, so you know she’s not hurting for cash–”

“I said no,” I repeat firmly. “And I appreciate you trying to help but I’d rather do this on my own.”

Her eyebrows fly up at my tone. “Okay then.”

Suddenly guilt washes through me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped, it’s just...”

“You’re having a bad day.” She nods. “It’s okay. I don’t mind being a target. And trust me my mom is much worse when she’s cranky.”

She offers me a wry grin, and I smile back weakly. She’s even gracious about my rudeness. The thing about Tate is that she’s so damn likable it’s hard to hate her. Plus, she’s really not a bad person. I’m the petty one for being jealous of her after all these years.

“I don’t want to tell Emma” I say. “Let’s just keep this between us.”

She bites her lower lip, then nods. “Sure. But just for the record, I think you should tell her.”

“No.”

She shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

I shake my head and sigh. I have to figure my way out of this alone.

CHAPTER SIX

MICAH

I whistle as I unlock the crafted bronze door of the Gilded Age mansion, letting myself in through the arched doorway.

The entryway is big enough to fit an apartment on its own and fixed with all the makings of a French chateau, including the wide windows that poured light over the vintage furniture, elaborate moldings and statues accenting each entryway, and a grand fireplace, featuring the quintessential gold leaf design.

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