Page 63 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

Better the devil you know.

Sabotaging your own future is something I excel in. Too bad there wasn’t a major in that. I would have passed with flying colors, and taken over the world. Until I inevitably fucked it up, of course.

But I have my little cottage, my own money, and my career. All things Papa can never take from me. I’ve learned to stay afloat through compromise, wading slowly toward a life of independence. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there, but at least now I know better than to dream.

I glance at my phone to check the time. I want to get to the diner before Lee. She’s been avoiding me again. No surprise there. Chase Adams is back in town. The boy who broke her heart and hung her out to dry, just like I always said he would. She doesn’t have a clue I know, so she doesn’t realize her energy at avoiding me is wasted. But I don’t blame her. I’ve been firmly in the ‘hating Chase camp’ since the moment he blew into town when we were eleven years old, making Lee’s naive little heart swoon in curiosity and wonder.

I know at brunch she’ll spill the beans. She’s shit at holding in secrets, and if I ask her point blank, she won’t hide from the truth. There’s nothing Lee hates more in the world than a liar.

My stomach turns at the thought of things I keep from her. Things I’ve been keeping from her. Things I have no plan to ever tell her.

Omission is not a lie, Becca.

Maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll start to believe it.

An hour later and I’m sitting on the patio at Patty’s Diner, texting Lee. She’s running late, and I’m wondering if she’s even planning on showing the hell up. Normally, Jax would be here, but he’s in high demand out in California being the car guru on movie sets, so he leaves a lot. It’s a shame he’s gone now, because he’s the one that usually wrangles Lee, making sure she actually comes.

“Hey, girl.”

I glance up at my long-haired, honey-blonde best friend as she plops in the seat across from me. Despite the dark circles that line her eyes, and the sorrow swirling in her baby blue gaze, she’s gorgeous.

“She lives,” I deadpan.

Lee grins, waving my snark off and diving into a story about her new job at some dance studio in Sweetwater. I let her ramble, knowing her filter is nonexistent and sooner or later she’ll vomit out the truth. Her body is practically vibrating, and I’m sure it’s from her nerves of telling me what I already know.

The air around us quiets as she sips from her mimosa, fidgeting in her seat.

I arch my brow.

“Chase is back,” she blurts.

“I know.”

She groans, throwing her head in her hands. “Dang it, how’d you know about that already?”

“Ran into him the other day. He let it slip you knew he was back.”

She sighs. “I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Her shoulders relax like all she needed to relieve the weight was to speak it out loud.

A spark lights her eyes as she talks about him, and my chest warms at the sight. It’s something that’s been missing ever since her momma died. Ever since Chase tore her up and disappeared in the first place.

Is it that easy to forgive her heartbreak?

Hope that has no place living inside me makes a home, digging in deep and planting its roots. Ideas perch on my shoulder, whispering that maybe my mistakes aren’t a permanent tarnish. That maybe forgiveness is a family trait.

“I get it, I guess. We all have secrets.” I shrug, attempting to shake off the notion. But the thoughts are always there, lingering like a song stuck in my head, driving me insane even though no one else can hear. They scrape against my scars, the sting reminding me they haven’t fully healed.

I doubt they ever will.

Up until this point, I’ve been a master of avoidance, the years having only strengthened my ability to push things down to the darkest corners of my soul.

“Oh, and you’ll never guess what else,” Lee says, while I pick from the breadbasket.

“Does it have to do with you, Logan, and a bottle of lube?” I grin, wiggling my eyebrows. Logan is her fling of the moment, and a fine specimen if there ever was one. I never miss a chance to try and get her to dish the dirt on his abilities.

Lee’s cheeks flush pink and I tamp down a laugh. She’s so easy to rile up. So innocent in her acts, even as an adult. As sweet as cherry pie and as shiny as a whistle. I’m sure when Papa prays, he tacks on a favor from God, asking to make me more like her.

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