Page 108 of The Forbidden Note

And also, not being there with her at school.

Damn. So make that two things I regret.

I’m worried about her safety. Hall is still a problem.

Last night, I punched the bastard so hard his body made a dent in the ground. I should have buried him there, but I didn’t. He might come crawling back to Redwood like the snake he is and I won’t be able to do a thing about it.

I already asked Sol to keep an eye out today. He couldn’t afford to get suspended and lose his scholarship, so we told Harris he had nothing to do with the fight. Thankfully, Harris didn’t touch him.

At least I can keep tabs on Grey through Jinx’s app.

No news means good news.

I slip out of bed around noon because the smells coming from downstairs are driving me crazy.

Marian is in there, humming and stirring a pot on the stove.

I rub my eyes, smiling at her. “Morning.”

“Young man, it is one o’clock,” she says sassily.

“Afternoon.”

Her earrings wiggle and smack her dark cheeks. “Have a seat.”

Soberly, I sit.

Does Marian know about my suspension?

I hope not.

I’m supposed to be earning her trust so I can spill the news about dad’s true colors. She won’t take me seriously if she sees me as the screw-up everyone else does.

I press my hands together. “I’m not feeling well, so I’m taking a sick day.”

She gives me a loaded look and I can tell she smells my BS a mile away.

“Before Finn left, he told me about that little fight you started yesterday.”

Sheepishly, I rub the back of my neck.

“I heard you punched someone for saying nasty things about Gracie.” She gives me a proud little smirk. “How’d you do it?”

“Slammed him across the face with my drumstick.”

She sticks out a fist.

Stunned, I punch it lightly.

Marian returns her attention to the stove. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I played it safe. Baked beans. Barbecued ribs. Slaw. Some mashed potatoes—bland because your palette might not be used to all this flavour.”

I laugh and swing into a barstool.

She sets the table and I take a bite of the ribs. An explosion of flavors bursts on my tongue and I moan.

“Damn. No wonder dad married you.”

She chortles warmly. “Funnily enough, your dad doesn’t like my cooking.”

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