Page 65 of Open Secrets
I lean in, my voice dropping to a low, steady burn. “Because when the people at the base find out what you’ve done—trying to trap me, ruin me—I’m guessing your well of favours will dry up real fast.”
The smile on her face flickers, then hardens again. “You think you’re untouchable.”
“No,” I say, gripping the door handle. “I just know liars like you always end up choking on their own stories.”
I push the door open, the cold air hitting my face like a slap. I lean back in through the window just long enough to say, “If you come after me, I will come after you.”
Then I step out.
Instead of heading inside, I stand on the curb, watching as CeCe pulls away—her eyes locked on me in a glare that promises this isn’t over. Her taillights shrink and vanish down the street.
And right then, another set of headlights swings into the cul-de-sac. Perfect. My parents’ car. August’s head is hanging out theback window like a golden retriever. Great. Now I’m gonna have to yell at him.
I don’t get the chance. Maria appears out of nowhere on the porch, and August’s head snaps back inside faster than lightning. We share a look as the car parks at the curb.
The doors pop open—Remi, Taylor, and Rain tumble out, August trying to sneak past both of us.
“August.” My voice comes out stern, and his shoulders hunch as he stomps over to stand in front of me.
Maria takes the other kids inside, leaving me to deal with him. I kneel down, meeting his wide eyes. “What have I said about hanging your head out the car window?”
“But it’s fun,” he protests, his voice small. “Like my face is gonna blow off.”
I keep my face serious. “Do you know what’ll happen if another car comes close? Your head will fall off.”
Now, I know what you’re thinking—pretty grim for a kid. But this is the same kid who somehow found a way to binge all eleven seasons ofThe Walking Dead, and we still haven’t figured out how.
His eyes go wide. “Really?”
I nod gravely. “And you know how much that would hurt me and your mom?”
He nods fast.
“So will you promise never to do it again?”
“Yes, sir,” he blurts, then scurries off with a quick “sorry.”
I stand up, dusting off my knees—and there they are. My parents. Standing on the sidewalk like ghosts I can’t shake.
“You’re a good dad,” my mom says, smiling.
I shrug, cheeks heating. “Whatever.”
She pats my shoulder. “Will you give me a minute?” Then she heads toward the house, the door swinging shut behind her.
Uh oh. Guess Maria can’t hide anymore.
I turn back to my dad. On cue, both of us drag our hands over our heads, like two men trying to avoid saying the wrong thing. I clear my throat. “How’s life?”
“Great,” he says. “Now that I can see my grandkids again.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You really wanna go there?”
He looks away.
“Dad,” I start, the words tangling in my throat, “can I ask you something?”
He nods, cautious.
