The Best Is Yet to Come (60)

“I came to tell you how horribly sorry I am about your car,” Callie said, barely sounding like herself.

“Fine. You’re sorry. So am I. Good-bye.” All he wanted was to get this apology over with so he could continue blocking out the world with his music.

“I blame myself.”

As she very well should. Callie was the one who’d dragged him into this mess. Furthermore, she’d set him up by telling Scott that he was on to the fact the football player was dealing drugs.

“I know how important that car is to you.”

He had nothing to add. That car was a classic. He could only imagine how much the repairs would tally. Money he didn’t have, unless it came out of his college fund.

Sheriff Terrance had questioned him about who Spencer thought might be responsible. It was on the tip of his tongue to name Scott Pender. He didn’t, though, sensing that there would be further retribution if he did. Besides, he had no real proof.

Scott getting away with this left a bitter taste in Spencer’s mouth. He ended up telling Sheriff Terrance he had no idea who might have set fire to his car. The deed was done. Naming Scott would cause the entire school, and the entire city of Oceanside, to hate him for pointing a finger at the most important member of the football team. In their eyes, Scott Pender could do no wrong.

Undoubtedly there would be an investigation, but in the end, it would be impossible to prove. Spencer had watched enough crime shows to know how highly unlikely it was to find those responsible in arson cases.

“I have three thousand dollars saved from my summer job, and birthday, and Christmas money,” Callie said, as she came all the way into his bedroom. “I know it probably isn’t enough, but it’s all I have. It’s yours with my apology.”

Spencer didn’t want her money.

“I…don’t have a clue how much it’ll cost to replace the interior. If you’ll let me know, I’ll do whatever is necessary to make up the difference. I don’t know that much about that sort of thing, so I’ll need you to tell me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, reaching for his headphones. He didn’t want to be rude, but he wanted her to leave. Leave his room. Leave his life. Just leave.

Despite his lack of welcome, Callie sat on the bed as far away as she could from him.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, perplexed at her blatant attempt to ignore his wishes.

“I…I don’t know. I suppose I’m looking for forgiveness.”

“You’ll get it at some point,” he said, “just not now.”

“I don’t blame you for hating me.”

He didn’t hate her. It might be easier if he did. What he needed, what he wanted, was time to absorb what had happened and figure out how best to move forward. “Callie, please just go.”

She sniffled. “I don’t think I can.”

He turned to face her, meeting her gaze for the first time.

The sight shocked him. Callie, who’d always been perfectly put together, was anything but. Her eyes were swollen and red from tears. Her eye makeup had left black meandering streaks down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess. She looked worse than Spencer could ever remember seeing her. Whatever he was about to say died before he could utter the words.

For a long moment all he could do was stare.

The envelope, with the cash inside, rested on the mattress between them. Spencer handed it back to her. “Keep your money.”

“I can’t do that. It’s yours. I should have gone to my parents the way you suggested, and I would now, except they’re in Hawaii, celebrating their anniversary. They won’t be back until Sunday afternoon.”

He had nothing to say.

“I’ll go to the police and tell them everything I know.”

“I doubt it will do much good without proof,” he said, discouraged and disgruntled. Spencer didn’t have the strength to fight her. If this was what she needed to do to make up for what she’d done, then he’d accept her guilt offering. He needed his car for his job and for when he left for college.

“Did you get suspended for attacking Scott?” she asked. She sat with her shoulders slumped forward, and her hands clenched in her lap.

He nodded.

“Me, too.”

Spencer didn’t know what possessed Callie to leap on Scott’s back. It’d been a crazy thing to do. It infuriated him when Scott tossed her off him like a sack of potatoes. “Were you hurt…you know, when Scott threw you?”

Callie shrugged.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

“I had to,” she admitted, her hands white with how tight they were clenched. “Scott was going to pulverize you if I hadn’t done something.”

Callie didn’t understand that her fighting his battle only made him look weak, which, admittedly, he was compared to Scott.

“How many days are you suspended?” she asked.

“Three. You?”

“The same,” she told him. “The rest of the week.”

“What about Scott?” Spencer had been with Dean Wilcox, and because of the volatile situation, Scott had gone to Principal Wentz’s office.

“He claimed he was only defending himself and so he wasn’t suspended.”