The Girl I Was Before (Falling #3)(59)

“I saw it the first time, on Casey’s phone,” I say, glancing at her. She’s frozen in her seat, her normal fire gone.

“Oh,” she says, her eyes lost out the front window at the row of cars parked in front of us.

“You’re right,” I say, expecting her to smile. Expecting…something. Instead, she inhales slowly before turning to face me. “It isn’t you—at least, not in the bad parts. That’s not…you.”

I didn’t make a copy; not one I saved. But I did run her video through editing software so I could look at sections frame by frame. Whoever did this was sloppy.

She lets her head fall against the headrest, her eyes focused just beyond me at first, then moving to mine. She shrugs. “I know. But what good does that do me?”

I sigh heavily, but I don’t have an answer for her.

“Is this why you left Delta? Why you had to move out?” I ask.

“It’s…part of it,” she says. Everything about her looks defeated. I’m sure the alcohol is partly to blame for dragging her down this morning. But this sadness…it’s more than that.

“Cass doesn’t know?” I ask, and her eyes flit back up to mine for a second. She shakes her head no.

“I won’t tell her,” I say.

“Thanks,” she says, a smile there for me, if only for a second.

“Maybe no one else will see it,” I say, trying to give her hope.

“You saw it,” she says, the tears welling in her eyes. She takes a sharp breath, and in a second, they’re dry. I know she’s hurt, but I also know it’s more important to her to act this way—to be strong.

We both step out of the car, bags slung over our shoulders. I watch her transformation, the way she shuffles her posture, tucks the few drying strands of hair under her hat, and touches up the lipstick in the corners of her mouth. Nobody would ever guess how broken she is inside. When she turns to face me, she smiles as if nothing’s wrong. It’s the same expression she wore the first time we met, when she slid an order ticket over the counter to me at the store.

“Don’t look at me like I’m pathetic,” she says, her lips forming a tight line, the slightest curl masking her hurt. She’s a politician. “I’m not, and I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

I nod once, and she turns to walk away. After a few steps, she twists and takes a few steps backward. “Oh, and Ty sent me a text. He wants you to come play poker with him and a few of the guys tonight—early, at like six. You should go. Ty…he’s a good guy. You’d like him. I’ll hang out with Leah.”

She’s still looking at me, slowly walking away, waiting for my approval. This is a test; I can tell. She wants to know if I trust her to stay home with Leah. Will I put my heart in her hands?

“Sounds good,” I say, careful to keep the pounding of nerves in my stomach away from my expression. “Text me his info.”

She smiles again, and this time, it’s different. It’s not painted on, or pretend. It’s real. And I put it there. Because I trust her. Because I believe her. And she might not think there’s anything she can do about the video, but I’m not giving up quite so easily.



* * *



I finished my coding for class in record time, and I got to work an hour early. It was an inventory day, and because I started early, Chuck was fine with me leaving a little early too. I wanted to be home before my mom, in time to prep Leah. I didn’t want my mom stepping in, taking over. I wanted Paige to have this chance to prove she could do this.

I want her to succeed.

My mom gave me the face she’s famous for, laced with warnings to be careful and be guarded in trusting Leah in the care of just anyone. Dating is one thing, but getting Leah attached to someone is something else entirely. I get it. But she still left and went to her bunko game-night. I think it helped that she’s only down the road. I think knowing that helped Paige a little, too.

Paige looked nervous. Leah looked excited. The second I told my daughter that Paige would be babysitting her tonight, she proceeded to pull out every single game in her closet—digging into the depths to find the ones she hasn’t played with in months. She’s showing off. That’s part of showing off when you’re a kid—you don’t have much of your own, but you’ve got toys. And Leah pulled them all out and put them on display.

I could sense the nerves in Paige’s voice when I told her I wouldn’t be late. And I saw the relief when I held up my phone and told her to call if she needed anything. But she hasn’t called. Not once.

We’ve gone through two hours of Texas Hold ‘em, and I’ve lost forty bucks to Nate, the king of poker faces. I’m down to my final chips, and as much fun as I’ve had being a regular guy for once, I’m sort of itching to get home.

“One more hand, and I think I’m out, guys. Sorry, this is late for me,” I say, realizing mid-sentence how strange that probably sounds. They don’t know about Leah, and I feel like maybe I should talk to Paige before I let them in on it. Ty met her, but as far as he knows, she’s my baby sister.

“Dude, it’s like, what…nine? Nine-thirty?” Ty says, shuffling, then dealing out another round of cards. There are five of us here; Nate brought two of the guys from his team.