Page 27 of Counter Bet

He rests his arm out the window, staring at something in the distance. “I can’t. I’ve got things to do,” he says, glancing at me. The silence in the car is heavy.

“Okay… Will I see you later?”

Something is definitely wrong.

Rick smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Look, Em. I’m—” He falls silent, looking over my shoulder. My mother is watching us in the doorway, probably wondering why we haven’t left the car.

Rick leans over and undoes my seatbelt. I catch a whiff of his cologne before he leans back in his seat and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll be busy with the boys tonight.”

I stare at him for a long moment, searching his face. “Okay, sure. No problem,” I whisper, then gather my bag and open the door.

I don’t look back.

My stomach twists uncomfortably. There’s a lump in my throat as I walk up the drive.

My mom is standing by the stove, stirring the pan as I walk in and drop my bag on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Is Rick not staying for dinner?” she asks, placing the lid back on the pan.

I busy myself by grabbing plates and cutlery. Rick is probably just spooked by what happened between Dallas and us. He’ll be fine in a couple of days.

I put the plates down on the table. “No, not today. He’s busy.”

My dad ruffles my hair on the way to the fridge. “Hi, pumpkin. Good day at school?”

“Yes, dad.” I grab my bag and escape to my room before they ask more questions.

* * *

I’m highlighting a passage in my book when my phone vibrates next to me on the bed. I’m ahead in my subjects, but I can’t shift the unease inside me and need the distraction. Rick hasn’t messaged me tonight.

I reach for the phone and swipe the screen. My brows furrow as I read the text from an unknown number.

Unknown number: I’m sorry.

Me: Who’s this?

I nibble on my thumbnail while I wait for a reply.

Unknown number: Dallas.

My heart jolts in my chest.

Me: How did you get my number?

Dallas: You should set up a pin code on your phone, princess.

When did she get access to my phone?

Another text comes through.

Dallas: What are you doing?

My eyebrows shoot up. Is she making small talk? I reread her message, debating whether to reply or not, but I’m too intrigued not to.

Me: Homework. How about you?

Dallas: Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’m watching a movie.

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