The Girl I Was Before (Falling #3)(72)

“Wow,” she says, her lips wrapping around the smallness of that word, making it sound so much bigger than the three letters it is. “You’re really going to take this thing far, aren’t you?”

Not that anyone was actually eating before, but nobody is chewing now. Even Leah has stopped humming.

“Am I missing something?” I ask after a few painful and long seconds of silence as we all watch the showdown at the dinner table. I feel stupid that I’m still smiling. Clearly, by the tone in Paige’s voice, I shouldn’t be smiling. Whatever this is—isn’t something funny. But it’s damn sure uncomfortable.

“Oh sweetie. You’ve always been the one in control of how far this thing goes,” Cee Cee says. I watch as both women level one another with similar looks. It’s pretty obvious they know each other. And it’s pretty obvious they hate each other. The only part I’m missing is why.

“I have, haven’t I?” Paige says, her eyes never leaving Cee Cee’s face. I glance at Leah, and my mom is a step ahead of me, leading her from the table, distracting her with her new iPod and accompanying her into the other room. I’m left in here, on the set of the Bold and the Beautiful.

“Okay, I’m going to need the full story on this one,” I say, folding my hands on the table. I may as well be invisible, because Paige is standing now, walking to the door. She pulls it open, pressing her back against it, her eyes giving Cee Cee a challenge.

“You’re going to get a call from the Herald Tribune. You’re going to tell them you were wrong. Understand?” Cee Cee says, standing, moving closer to Paige until each of them flanks one side of the open door.

“Yeah, so I’m pretty sure I’m not. What happens in that scenario?” Paige asks, and even though there’s a certain swagger to her defiance, I can also see she’s nervous, her fingers rubbing anxiously on the doorknob behind her back.

Cee Cee smirks, letting out one of those breathy laughs I thought chicks only did in teen movies. Is that what scoffing sounds like?

“Thanks for dinner, Houston. You might want to do better background checks on your renters, though. Just sayin’,” she says, leaving without even acknowledging Leah in the next room.

She wasn’t here for Leah.

She never really is.

“Paige?” I ask.

Her head falls to the side along the door, her gaze on my daughter at first, then finally sliding to me. As long as I’ve known her, she’s never looked nervous—she’s never looked scared. She’s wearing both right now.



Paige



That was unfair. That was so f*cking, unbelievably, horribly unfair.

Houston is waiting for an answer. His mom is just over his shoulder, distracting a beautiful, innocent little girl, but her eyes are on me, too—waiting. I don’t know what to do.

“Paige?” This is the second time he’s said my name like a question.

“I’m sorry, Houston, but I can’t stay here any more,” I say. I shuffle past him up the stairs and close my door, careful not to slam it. I don’t want it to look like I’m throwing a tantrum, but that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m so rattled—thrown by her level of crazy. I don’t know who told her I was here, but she knew. That…all of that…tonight? It was all orchestrated for me, for her to get at me. I hate that I let her get to me. Chandra might actually be dangerous, and right now—I need my sister. I need to call her. We’re broken, but we’re still stronger together.

I knew he’d follow. There’s a soft knock at my door, and when his eyes ask if he can enter, I nod for him to come in.

“Mom took Leah to the park. We have…some time,” he says, wanting me to know I can feel comfortable being honest. It’s not the people in the house, though, it’s this mental game I’ve been roped into.

“I don’t know…ha—” I stop, a look of surprise on my face because I literally don’t know what word to say next. I shrug, then move to my bed and sit on it, looking around at my few sparse things. It should be easy to move out; I’ve barely made this room my own.

“Just tell me. Whatever it is, whatever that was. Just tell me, I won’t judge you…I promise,” he says.

I’m the girl who rules the playground.

I let my lungs take in as much air as they’ll hold. My mom always says that a deep breath is like a giant reset button for the body. I’ve been breathing a lot lately, and somehow I keep waking up to the same shit.

He doesn’t make me talk until I’m ready. And we spend almost fifteen minutes in silence—me trying to open my mouth to make words, then just as quickly shutting it again and putting my hands to my head, trying to figure this out.

My lips are parted, and I feel Houston’s hand slide over mine, his touch trying to give me strength, when my phone begins buzzing on the bed next to me. The number reads UNKNOWN.

I pick it up and hold it in my hand, not sure if I’m going to answer or not. Then Houston moves his hand to my wrist, relaxing my grip and taking my phone from me.

“Hello?” he answers.

My eyes lock open staring at his mouth.

“Hold on, let me see if she’s here,” he says, bringing the phone down to his lap, cupping it.

“Are you here?” he whispers.