Page 8 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

He grins softly, his lips pulled to one side of his thinning facial

features, age and maturity shedding off the years of teenage muscle

and college fat. “Maybe I should stop by the shop and talk to you

about it.”

“Yeah, okay. You know where to find me, okay? I should… I really

need to get back to my…”

“Yeah, of course. Go,” he ushers, smiling with an odd hint of pride in

his stiffened posture. “I’ll come by the shop and see you soon,

ladybug.”

I gag at that pet name as I hurry into the bank, feeling like I’ve finally

broken off the battlefield and landed face-first into the trenches. My

body is badly wounded—and my mind was fucked up long ago—but

being in this little ditch is a lot better than being out there under the

constant fire of judgment, distaste, and whispering gossip.

I go about my banking transaction, looking past the letter of the lien

payment past due. It’s an urgent matter, and I’m not fighting that it’s

important, I’m just fighting logic with my heart.

My logic says I have to pay off the house to keep my grandfather’s

legacy in our home, and my father’s legacy with the auto shop.

My heart tells me that even if I sink, my sister needs to be off my ship

when it takes water.

She needs this money more than I do. So, as far as I’m concerned,

she can have every damn cent.

DODGE & WEAVE

Leah

I stammer out of the bank as if I’ve just taken a physical beating. My

mind turned into mush after having to go through the inheritance

paperwork again, the beneficiary account, the deposit, the hold for

Ainsley’s school, and then the damn mention of a lien on the house

and shop. I managed to talk them into understanding the difficult

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