Page 52 of Betting on You

That… was a good question. I felt like it was a yes, but Charlie’s question made me realize that I still had some issues with the way Zack had been able to just move on fromme. If he cared about me evenhalfas much as I cared about him, shouldn’t it have taken a little time? Shouldn’t he have tried harder before giving up?

“Probably,” I admitted, knowing it was the wrong answer while also knowing I meant it. “What about you? Would you take Becca back if she asked?”

“Here!” Clio popped forward, leaning up between our seats, and said, “We’re here! This is my house.”

“That is correct,” Charlie said to his tipsy friend, but his eyes stayed on me. He gave me a little closed-mouth smile, like an acknowledgment of our shared heartaches, before pulling the keys from the ignition and opening his door. “Let’s get you inside, Miss Clio.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONEBailey

I opened the door to the apartment and was surprised to see that the living room lights were still on. My mother was rarely awake at midnight, so I shot Charlie a look of dread. I’d gone inside with Clio to make sure she made it quietly up to her room—which she did—but that had made me nice and late.

We cut through the kitchen, and when we stepped into the living room, my mom and Scott were sitting side by side on the couch. The TV was on, but they were looking at me like they’d been waiting for me to appear in the doorway.

“Hey, night owls,” I said, pasting on what I hoped was a laid-back smile. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“Bay,” my mom said, looking pissed. My heart hiccupped a bit—she rarely got mad at me—and she said, “Midnight means midnight.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” I glanced at Scott, who was glaring at something behind me.

Someone.

He looked like he was trying to kill Charlie with orbital laser beams.

“We ended up having to give one of Charlie’s friends a ride home at the last minute—that’s the only reason we were late.”

“But it’s your job to factor that stuff in when accounting for your curfew, sweetie.” My mom crossed her arms and said, “Part of that whole if-you’re-old-enough-to-stay-out-till-midnight thing.”

“I know.”Why is she busting my ass?My mother was usually incredibly understanding, especially since I rarely went out aside from coffee shop/bookstore visits. “It was last minute. Charlie could see she wasn’t okay to drive, so he took her keys and insisted—”

“The girl wasdrunk?” Scott asked, as if I’d just proclaimed that the girl had murdered someone.

I felt my forehead wrinkle as I wondered why the hell Crew Socks was inserting himself into my life. I cleared my throat and said, “Well, I wouldn’t call herdrunkexactly—”

“But she’d been drinking.” Scott looked at Charlie again, then at my mom, before he asked me, “Were you at aboozeparty?”

Charlie made a noise, like he found Scott’s ridiculous verbiage funny, as I said, “No. The girl had been drinking, but we weren’t at aboozeparty.”

Scott looked at my mom expectantly, as inLet her have it.

Which really pissed me off. Who did he think he was, herhusband? What right did he have to guide her toward his parental expectations?

And as if the entire scenario wasn’t bonkers in and of itself, the reality was that Scott’s snarky daughter partiedall the time.

My mom looked uncomfortable as she said to me, “This can’t happen again, Bay.”

It felt like she was acting, like she was saying that because she knew he expected her to, which pissed me off even more. My mom was a strong woman—why would she let him treat her that way?

“That’sit?” Scott said, looking at my mother like she’d just high-fived me for being late.

“Yes.”She gave him a look of annoyance that made me want to applaud. “Bailey’s always been responsible. I trust her judgment.”

“She hasn’t always been hanging out with Mr. Funny here, though.”

“Scott.”My mom looked at him like she was embarrassed by his immature name-calling.

“How would you know who I hang out with?” I said it quietly, but I surprised myself by saying it at all. I hated confrontation, but I hated thisstrangerbutting into our business even more. He knew nothing about me, and the fact that he dared to butt in felt so intrusive, it was almost suffocating.

Somehow it felt like an insult to mydad, too, which didn’t make sense but added to the painful burning sensation in the center of my chest. I said, “You’re new here—I don’t think this is your concern.”

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