During the fifteen-minute drive, my cell dings at least ten times, prompting Pash to finally scoop it up.

“Dude. Felicity Worthington texted you like five billion times.” He chuckles at something on the screen. “She wants you to wear a tie to dinner tonight. You’re taking her to dinner?”

He says that in the way one would ask if his pal was going to sit down with a python.

“Hell. No.” I grit my teeth and focus on the road ahead. “Can you text back for me?”

“Sure. Whatcha want me to say?”

“Say, we’re NOT going out. Capital letters for not.”

Pash snickers loudly. “Harsh, bro.”

“Nice doesn’t cut it with this chick.” I flick the turn signal and steer the car left toward Pash’s tree-lined street.

“Why does she think you’re going out?” he asks, typing absently into my phone.

“Because she asked me, and I said yes when I was loaded.”

He laughs again. “You’re screwed.”

“Thanks for the support.”

“I’m just telling you the truth. There. Sent.” The phone beeps in his hand before he can put it down. “She texted back, a deal’s a deal.”

I groan in frustration. “Don’t answer.”

“So. How you going to get yourself out of this jam?”

Looking over, I see him fighting back more laughter. “No idea,” I admit. Felicity’s a force of nature. And, I’m starting to think, a bit psycho. “I’ll figure something out.”

I reach the end of his long driveway and stop the car in front of the Bhara mansion. “See you at practice tomorrow.” I don’t offer to pick him up, since I’m never on time. But his dad drops him off before work, so it’s fine.

We knock fists and then Pash gets out of the car. “Later, East.”

“Later.”

I pull a quick turn and drive out the way I came, only instead of turning toward the road home, I take the one that leads to the city. I pull into an empty lot and park, and then I take out my pen, my phone, and a notebook and get to work. A year ago, I started recording class lectures on my phone. It helps at test time, if I can convince myself it’s a class worth studying for. Admittedly, I only do the bare minimum. Cs are a passing grade, as I’ve told my dad a million times.

But I take extra care with these notes. Because to Hartley, a C is probably a failed grade. Once I finish, I tuck everything away and go find my girl.

Hungry Spoon Diner is in a strip mall next to a Goodwill and a grocery store. The neon sign declares it’s open.

I grab my notebook and head inside. The place has a few rows of fifties-style tables: the ones with the chrome sides and the shiny colorful tops. In the center is a big U-shaped counter. There aren’t many bodies, but that’s unsurprising, seeing as how it’s barely five o’clock on a weekday. I scan the room for Hartley, but I see only one waitress, wearing the same black and white uniform Hartley had on the night I brought her dinner.

Frowning, I look at the mostly empty booths, and that’s when I spot her. Well, I spot the back of her head. She’s sitting in the farthest booth, facing away from me. And she’s not alone.

“You can seat yourself,” the other waitress chirps after greeting me.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

“I’ll be right over with a menu.”

I nod and walk toward the back booths. I don’t sit at the one right next to Hartley’s, but two booths away. Far enough that her companion can’t really see me, but close enough to hear what Hartley’s saying.

And what she says sucks the breath from my lungs.

In a voice trembling with desperation, Hartley pleads, “I want to come home.”

Chapter 15

“You know that’s not up to me.”

I clamp my lips together to stop from interrupting. The woman is Hartley’s sister, I think. I recognize her from the article, but I can’t remember her name. She looks so much like Hartley, except her black hair is cut in a short bob with bangs while Hartley’s hangs like a silk curtain down the middle of her back.

“No, but you’re the oldest,” Hartley says shakily. “You’re their favorite, Parker. Dad actually listens to you.”

“Not anymore,” Parker answers. Her voice sounds tight. “Now he walks around like he’s King Lear, waiting for all his daughters to betray him. God, I shouldn’t even be here, Hart. I’m risking a lot.”

“Is that so?” I can’t see Hartley’s face, but from the way her tone grows cold, I imagine her expression is equally chilly. “What exactly are you risking, Parker? You don’t even live there anymore. You have a husband and two kids and—”

“—and a trust fund that pays for my children’s private school tuition and for the house my family lives in. If Dad finds out I saw you—”

Hartley makes a noise of distress in the back of her throat. “No one’s going to find out.”

“You don’t know that. He’s got spies everywhere.”

I frown to myself. Hartley’s dad is just an assistant district attorney, but Hartley’s sister is making it seem like he’s the head of a mafia family or some shit. Man. What happened between Hartley and her dad? It’s sounding more and more like she got kicked out of her house, but why?

“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?”

The waitress interrupts my eavesdropping. “Uh, sure,” I mumble, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. “Water’s fine. Thanks.”

“Have you had a chance to look at the menu?” she asks.

“I miss you guys so much,” Hartley is saying, sounding heartbroken.

Frustration builds as I try to focus on both conversations at once. “Not yet. I need more time.”

“All righty. I’ll be back with your water and to take your order.”

She flounces off and I’m able to catch the tail end of Parker’s sentence.

“—could change your circumstance any time. Just apologize to him and say you overreacted, beg his forgiveness.”

“I did not overreact,” Hartley snaps. “What he does is wrong and it’s going to come out some day. These sorts of things always do. All this covering it up will end up being worse for the rest of us.”

“You think our family is the only one with dirt?” Parker hisses. “Everyone’s money is dirty. You should’ve kept your mouth shut.”

“Then what about this?”

I have no idea what “this” is, because I can’t see Hartley, but Parker’s gray eyes fill with sorrow. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Are you kidding me? You saw what—” Hartley stops. Her head falls forward, and she draws a deep breath. “You know what? I don’t care that I’m kicked out of the house or that I don’t have money. I don’t care about any of that. I care about our mom and sister. I want us to be together.”

“Then you need to forgive and move on,” Parker begs. “Dragging this out, making a spectacle of it, is only hurting the family. Do the right thing.”

“I’m trying to!” Hartley cries, then quickly lowers her voice. “Why do you think I came back? I’m trying to make it all right, but you’re not supposed to be seen with me. Mom won’t talk to me. I haven’t spoken to—” Her voice cracks and she breaks off.

My insides turn over. She’s really upset.

Parker gets to her feet. “I’m sorry, Hart. I have to go.”

Hartley’s hand shoots out and grabs her sister’s wrist. “Will you at least talk to Mom for me?”

“I already have, countless times. She doesn’t listen to me,” Parker says in frustration.

“Then, please, you have to talk to Dad.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Hartley sounds mad now. “Miles makes a good living. Do you really need the other money?”

Parker shakes her wrist free. “I thought you loved your niece and nephew. Do you know how expensive they are? It costs two grand a month to keep Macy’s pony stabled and it’s five grand for Dawson’s violin lessons. I can’t sacrifice their future for you, Hartley. Don’t ask that of me. Don’t be selfish. If you don’t care about your niece and nephew, then at least think about our baby sister. She wouldn’t survive in a boarding school. She’s too fragile.”