Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (11 page)

"What do you mean?"

"Why not Amber? Or Brittney?"

He looked at me. "Is that a serious
question?"

Was it? Yeah, I guess it was. "Well, take
Brittney," I said. "You obviously liked her well enough a few weeks
ago. And Amber too. Why not them?"

He blew out a breath. "Girls like Brittney
are easy."

"That's for sure," I said.

"I don't mean that." He shook his head. "With
girls like her, I know what I'm getting. And they know what they're
getting too."

"Girls like what?"

"You know the type," he said. "Girls from the
wrong side of town who pretend to be something they're not."

I felt my body stiffen. That didn't only
describe Brittney. It described me, too. Still, I made myself ask,
"What's she pretending to be?"

"I dunno. Some socialite, I guess. Take that
sorority thing. Get this. She doesn't even go to college."

"Not now? Or not ever?"

"Not ever. And probably never will."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"How do you know?"

"One night at my place, she got totally
trashed. It was just the two of us, and she started telling me how
much her life sucked, and how lucky Amber is, compared to her.
"

"So Amber's the real deal?"

He shrugged. "Far as I know."

"Does Amber know about Brittney, that she's
just pretending, I mean?"

"She's got to," Lawton said. "I mean, they
claim to be in the same sorority. And they've got this sister act
thing they do."

I recalled the first night I'd seen them. I
knew exactly how far that act extended. I felt my jaw clench.
"That's seriously messed up."

"Yeah. I guess."

"But she told that same lie tonight," I said.
"About the sorority, I mean. Why would she do that if you knew the
truth?"

He shrugged. "She probably forgot. Like I
said, she was pretty trashed."

"But why didn’t you call her on it?"

"Because I didn't care. I figured you
wouldn’t either. I mean, c'mon, it's pathetic, right?"

In spite of the cold, I felt color rise to my
cheeks. I slipped my hand out of his and started walking again.

Lawton fell in beside me. "What's wrong?" he
asked.

"Nothing."

Somehow, in the last few minutes, I'd almost
forgotten my vow to keep him at a distance. A very long distance.
Like from Michigan to the Moon, in spite of the fact we shared a
fence.

But after the things he told me, I was having
a hard time keeping everything straight. Plus, I was seriously
sleep-deprived. It was nearly dawn, and I'd been awake for most of
the past twenty-four hours.

"Chloe?"

"Yeah?"

His voice was very quiet. "Will you give me
another chance?"

We were getting closer to the Parkers'. It
wasn't actually my home, even if I was living there. I was just the
house-sitter, dog-walker, plant-waterer, mail-getter, whatever.

When I answered the Parkers' ad, I approached
it the only way I thought they'd hire me. I acted like I didn't
need the money.

There was only one problem. At the time, I
hadn't known about Lawton. I didn't know that we'd get together, or
realize how the secrets would pile up. By now, Lawton knew it
wasn't my house, but that was pretty much all he knew.

I wanted to keep it that way. And I wanted to
tell him everything.

So, what did he think now? That I was some
rich guy's mistress? The niece of the owners? Some surgeon's love
child?

I took my agreements seriously. As part of
the deal with the Parkers, I had a strict confidentiality clause.
They didn't want a single person to know they were out of town, and
I honestly couldn’t blame them.

And even if I wanted to tell someone, Lawton
would be a terrible choice. He had baggage of his own, starting
with his brother, who had a nasty little habit of breaking into
people's houses when they weren't there.

But was that my only reason? I recalled what
Lawton had said about Brittney. He'd practically called her a
poser. In truth, I was a poser, too. Sure, I was a paid poser, but
did that make it better or worse?

My head was swimming, and the silence
stretched out.

Lawton's question hung in the air, getting
heavier with every step. After a couple of minutes he said, "Is
this your way of telling me no, that it's over?"

Up ahead, I spotted the Parkers' house, a
two-story brick Tudor nestled behind a long, tree-lined driveway.
It wasn't my home, but it almost felt like it. I'd been here weeks
already. I was scheduled to be here most of the winter. Chucky felt
like my real dog. Lawton felt like my real neighbor.

More than my neighbor, actually.

I felt like I belonged here. There was only
one problem.

I didn't.

Eventually, whether I told him directly or
not, Lawton would learn that for himself. When that happened, would
he call me pathetic too? Would it be any less pathetic if I told
him directly?

And if I did, would he tell his brother that
the owners were out of town? And would his brother use that
information to steal more than a glimpse at my driver's
license?

There were too many questions on not enough
sleep. At the foot of the Parkers' long driveway, I stopped,
turning to face him.

He stopped too, looking down at me with
parted lips and wary eyes

As I studied his face, I considered how easy
it would be to melt into his arms and tell him everything. We could
start over, no more secrets, no more barriers.

Or maybe, he'd decide I was just another
Brittney. Maybe I
was
just another Brittney. Were we really
that different?

"Chloe," he said. "I do love you."

I looked down at my feet. "I love you too.
But I'm not sure it's enough."

"It's enough for me," he said. "The first
time I saw you, I just knew."

I looked to the horizon. The first streaks of
pink appeared in the eastern sky. "It's really late," I said.

He turned to follow my gaze. "No. It's early,
remember?"

"Lawton," I said. "I'm not sure you really
know me. And if I'm being really honest, that's my fault not yours.
But it is what it is."

"I do know you," he said. "At least all that
matters."

"No. You don't," I said. "And honestly, I
probably don't know you very well either."

"You wanna know me?" he said. "Come with me
tomorrow."

"Where?"

"You'll see."

I was too exhausted to plan anything for
tomorrow. If I didn't get some serious sleep, I'd never make it
through my shift. "Tomorrow's not good," I said.

"Then how about the next day?"

"Monday?" I said. "I'm working that day,
too."

"But you don't go in 'til late, right?"

"Yeah. But I can't afford to be late
anymore."

"I won't make you late," he said. "I
promise."

I bit my lip, thinking about it.

"C'mon," he said. "It's my last day in town
this week. Say yes."

"You're taking a trip?" I said.

"Not a vacation. Work. This event in Vegas.
You wanna come?"

"Very funny," I said.

"You think I'm joking?"

"I don't know what to think, but it doesn't
matter. I'm working every day 'til Friday."

"Then c'mon, say yes for Monday." His gaze
met mine. "Please?"

I stared into his eyes, and something in my
heart gave way. "Maybe," I said.

His eyes softened. "I'm taking that as a
yes." He glanced toward the house. "Can I walk you to the
door?"

I shook my head. "Nah, that's alright."
Awkwardly, I gave him a little wave and headed toward the house. As
I walked down the long driveway, I felt his gaze on my back, but I
didn't turn around.

When I unlocked the front door and went
inside, I peered through the window blinds and saw him still
standing there, a dark silhouette on the quiet street. I left the
window to flick on the living room lights. When I looked out the
window a second time, he was gone.

I found Chucky asleep in his favorite
basket.

Five minutes later, I stumbled upstairs and
fell into bed, fully clothed, in the Parkers' guestroom. Just
before sleep claimed me, I saw Lawton's face, looking at me the way
he used to, before all the drama, all the heartache.

It would be nice to see him look at me that
way again.

But would he, if he knew who I truly was?

The low sound of harp music felt like a
jackhammer to my brain. Groaning, I glanced at the digital clock on
the nightstand.

One hour. That's how long I'd been asleep. It
wasn't nearly long enough.

With muttered curses, I reached past the
clock and fumbled for my cell phone, still making that dreaded
sound. With bleary eyes, I studied the display.

Shit. It was Loretta, the stepmother from
Hell.

I had a choice to make. Suffer a little now?
Or suffer a lot later?

I did the smart thing. I answered.
"Hello?"

"Don't tell me you're still asleep," she
said.

"Not anymore."

"There's no need to get snippy," she said.
"Not all of us can sleep the day away, you know."

I felt my jaw clench. "You
do
remember
I work nights, right?"

"Save me the sob story," she said. "You've
had a chip on your shoulder as long as I've known you. And to be
perfectly honest, I'm more than a little sick of it."

Damn it. I should've suffered later. If I
hung up on her now, would she forget that I'd answered? No. She
wouldn’t. Loretta never forgot anything.

I forced myself to think of Josh, my
thirteen-year-old brother. Unlike me, he lived in Loretta's house.
He ate Loretta's food. And if I didn't pull it together fast,
tonight he'd be taking Loretta's shit – insults, nitpicking, verbal
abuse. And my Dad wouldn't do a damn thing.

Better me than Josh.

I closed my eyes and choked out an apology.
"I'm sorry."

"As far as apologies go," she said, "that was
barely adequate."

If she didn’t like mine, she should've seen
Brittney's.

"I'm sorry for that too," I said.

"Are you being sarcastic?"

Was I? Probably. Should I apologize for my
apology? Damn it. I should've let it go to voicemail. My body
might've been awake, but my mind was still out cold.

"Are you still there?" she said. "You fell
back asleep, didn't you?"

"No, I'm still here."

"If you say so."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? What
did she think? That she was talking to a recording?

Still, in a lame attempt to sound friendly, I
made myself smile as I said, "Is there a particular reason you
called?"

"Are you laughing at me?" she said.

"No. I'm not laughing at anything. I was
smiling into the phone, just like you told me the last time we
talked."

"Alright, whatever." She gave a loud sigh.
"I'm just checking in about Thanksgiving. You
are
still
bringing the dessert right?"

"Wait a minute," I said. "I thought I was
bringing a salad?"

"Oh for God's sake," she said. "Not this
again."

"Not what again?"

"Don't be dense." With another sigh, she
pulled out her overly patient voice and spoke very slowly. "Yes, I
did ask you to bring a salad, but you pitched such a fit that I
switched the menu around just for you."

"So I'm bringing the dessert?"

"That's what I said, wasn't it?"

I rubbed my eyes. She was doing this on
purpose. I just knew it. "Okay," I said. "What kind of dessert?
Pie? Cake? Something else?"

"Look, you've got one thing to bring," she
said. "Me? I've got a whole meal. Is it really that much trouble to
figure out the dessert on your own? Or do you want me to send you a
recipe book too?"

"Sorry," I said. "I'll bring a pie."

"Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Why?"

"Because Lauren Jane hates pie. You just love
to stick it to her, don't you?"

Lauren Jane? She had to mean Lauren, her
natural daughter. But I'd never heard the Jane part before. It must
be new.

Lauren was about my age, but I had no idea
what she liked, or didn't like. In truth, I barely knew the girl.
She was the upstairs daughter. As for me, I'd been relegated to the
basement from day one.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," I said. "I'll
bring a cake then."

"For Thanksgiving? What do you think this is?
A birthday party?"

My brain was foggy, but my head was pounding.
For the life of me, I couldn't think of another single dessert. I
was gripping the phone so tight, I feared it might shatter.

I tried to keep my voice calm as I said,
"Okay, then I'll bring a surprise."

"Oh, I'm sure you will."

And then, before I could respond, she hung up
without saying goodbye.

I turned off the ringer and flopped back onto
the bed. For at least an hour, I stared at the ceiling, willing
myself to fall back asleep. But that woman got under my skin like
almost no one else.

It didn't help that I knew she was doing it
on purpose. Someday Josh would move out, and I'd be free to tell
her exactly what I thought of her and all her games.

Until then, I was screwed.

I should be used to it by now. But somehow, I
wasn't.

I'd just drifted back to sleep when the sound
of Chucky's barking jolted me awake. Groaning, I flopped onto my
side and wrapped the pillow around my head, mashing it tight
against my ears.

It was no use. Even muffled, there was no
ignoring it. When I heard the ding-dong of the doorbell, I hurled
the pillow against the wall and stumbled out of bed.

There was only one person it could be.
Lawton.

So much for giving me some space.

I jumped into my rattiest sweatpants and
marched downstairs, leaving a trail of profanity in my wake. By
now, Chucky was going nuts, barking his furry head off and skidding
across the hardwood floors as he ran from window to window.