The Girl I Was Before (Falling #3)(28)

“Oh, this is Houston by the way,” Casey says through a full mouth, laughing before he can get the entire insulting sentence out. I don’t even acknowledge him. I know he’s just warming up, and I’ll have plenty of opportunities to say something to his face when I’m done with Leah.



Paige



Dad picked me up from the airport. That was good. I’m sure Mom has worked herself up trying to figure out why I wanted to come home early, dreaming up theories and worst-case scenarios. She does this with Cass more than me, probably because she worries over my sister’s health. Getting carried away is kind of her thing.

I had a few hours at home alone when Dad dropped me off. He headed back into the office, probably dealing with the assault case for my sister. I welcomed the alone time. Here, in my room, where I could erase the last six months and pretend I was still me—the girl I was before everything got so f*cked up and twisted.

I haven’t been good at staying in touch with my friends from high school. Most of them stayed in California. I was going to stay in California…until I sacrificed everything for Cass. I think I blamed her for a while. Maybe I still do. But I know ultimately I made the choice to go to Oklahoma; I made all of the choices that got me where I am now.

Looking at my phone, I hover over Lexi’s number. She and I were best friends in high school, and she went to Long Beach for college. I know she’s in town. I text her.

Just got back for the holidays. Would love to see you! Call me and let’s hang out! XO



The feeling she’s not going to call sinks into my chest quickly, and I instantly regret messaging her. When I toss it on my bed, my phone buzzes with a message. I grab it with hope, but it isn’t a text message. It’s a voicemail. I flip to the missed calls, and see there’s three from Houston. I’m not sure why I didn’t hear it ring, or maybe I’m just now getting the message from the time my phone was on airplane mode. Either way, I’m glad I didn’t pick up. I may be starting to waver on my decision to move in with him.

His message is short, and sort of…weird. He sounds flustered, which only adds to my own anxiety. By the time my mom gets home, I have a raging headache and my neck is stiff from scrunching my shoulders up to my head with stress. I’m still happy to see her; her hug feels like a soft blanket, making me feel safe—if only for a moment.

“How was your flight?” she asks, letting go, standing back, and holding me by both arms, like she’s taking an inventory to make sure I didn’t come back with broken parts. I did, just nothing she can see.

“Good, no turbulence,” I say. My mom smiles. She hates turbulence. Add that to her long list of things she freaked out about when Cass and I told her we were both going to Oklahoma.

“Oh, thank god,” she says, hooking her bags on the rack by the door and kicking her shoes from her feet. My mom always brings home samples of things from the store. She has this grand idea of working on new display items and jewelry at night, but never really does any of it—she just takes the bags back and forth. Cass and I used to pull a few of the beads out at night, when she was asleep, to make things for our friends. Right now, the familiarity of her routine is comforting.

“We were thinking of going to dinner tonight—maybe to the pier, since your sister doesn’t like seafood as much as we do. What do you think?” she asks, and I start to answer with a smile when my phone chimes in the distance.

“Dinner sounds great,” I say over my shoulder, moving to my room to check my phone. There’s a part of me that both hopes and dreads another message from Houston. When I see it’s just a return from Lexi, I’m equally conflicted—disappointment…meet relief.

OMG you are such a rescue. Please. Mall. Now. Parents making me crazy. Pick you up in five?



I laugh lightly as I read her words. As much as things have changed, nothing has changed. Lexi’s parents are the kind of couple that should have divorced a decade ago, only they’re stubborn and don’t want to be labeled failures. Instead, they hang on and fight and exist in an awful marriage. Lexi used to spend the night at our house a lot. Whenever I went to her house, her parents would make these little remarks to one another, passive-aggressive things since they didn’t want to fight in front of company. I kind of think the childish picking at one another was worse, though.

I write her back.

Give me 10 mins. Mom just got home. But I can go. Excited to see you!



For a minute, I feel normal. I change quickly, putting on my skinny jeans and my favorite tight, black sweater so I can wear my new boots. I didn’t bring them to campus with me the first time. I wasn’t sure how cold the weather would be, or what snow would be like there. But now that I’ve lived there, I think I can wear these without much trouble.

My mom’s smile falls a little when she sees me, and I feel bad leaving so quickly. But I need a dose of a real friend—a friend from before. There are some things that my girlfriends can do that my parents can’t.

“I’m sorry. I won’t be long. And I’ll be home for dinner. It was Lexi; she needs to escape,” I say, pulling my purse over my shoulder and moving close enough to my mom to grab a hold of her arm and swing it. She squeezes me in return and smiles easily again.

“Okay, I understand. But make sure you save some time for your dad and me, okay?” she says.