The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(76)

Now that I’m close to Silver’s, I message her to let her know I’m heading her way.

Me: Almost at your place. Gonna leave your beater. Should I knock?





I’m turning onto her street when she answers.

Silver: I resent that. My car is not a beater.





Silver: I feel rude as hell, but would you mind dropping it off and going? Things aren’t good over here.





Me: No problem





Silver: You have plans tonight?





Me: At your mercy. Have something in mind?





Silver: What’s your address? I’ll come over after ten.





My nerves revolt, making me feel nauseous. Silver, coming to the trailer? I told her I wanted her to come over when we were at the cabin, but I didn’t really think about all that that entailed. The place needs more than a little TLC.



Me: 1876 Bow Hill Rd. You know which park?





I arrive at her place while she's still replying. I make it quick, pulling into the driveway, parking, killing the engine. I get out, looking up at the house—beautiful, serene, ivy climbing up the fascia, roses planted in the beds. The kind of house I dreamed of living in when I was a kid—and then I spy her, standing at one of the upstairs windows. My poor Silver looks like a ghost up there, alone, pale behind the glass. She really is so fucking beautiful. She raises a hand, pressing it against the window, a small, sad smile on her face, and I want to kick in the front door, race up the stairs and take her into my arms right this second.

She said now wasn’t good, though, which means the shit must be hitting the fan in there. I hold up her keys, making sure she can see what I’m doing as I place them on the Nova’s dashboard. She nods, just once, and then she vanishes out of sight.

I could call an Uber to take me home, but it seems like a waste of time. The trailer park I call home is four miles away, but I’m no stranger to walking. I don’t care about the cold or the fact that it’s just starting to rain. I need to clear my head, and four miles should give me plenty of time to think.





26





SILVER





He didn’t mention anything about the email in his texts. Not one word. I don’t blame him, either. If I were him, I’d probably want to pretend like I hadn’t read such a crappy, terrible story, too. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s going to say to me.

I make my way downstairs, feeling sick to my soul. I have plenty of regrets, but I regret sending that email more than anything else I’ve ever done. I have no idea what tonight’s going to be like with him. I’m hoping it won’t be an awkward disaster, but—

I run into Dad the second I hit the bottom step. “Holy hell!” He clutches a hand to his chest dramatically, staggering back until he hits the wall. “I thought you’d moved out. There were rumors some sort of nocturnal creature had taken up residence in your room. I was gonna start charging it rent.”

“One day, Dad. I’ve been up early every other day for the past year. Feel free to cut me some slack.”

“I know, I know,” he says, throwing an arm around me, guiding me into the kitchen. “I’m just messing with you. Figured you could take it, but I can see you’re feeling a little sensitive. I was surprised you came back yesterday. I thought you’d be making the most of every last second at the cabin. Mom said you weren’t feeling good. Everything all right?”

Wow. Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that Mom’s been lying again. I told her to do it, after all. I’m kind of glad she came up with this excuse, though. Would have been hard to explain my early return otherwise. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just feeling a little under the weather’s all. Decided it’d be smarter to head home before I came down with a full-blown head cold.”

Dad releases me, making a cross with his index fingers, like he's warning off a demon. “If ye be infected, keep thy germs to thyself, lest the whole household succumbs to thy plague,” he says, feigning horror all over again. He is such a damn dork. “You want huevos rancheros? Extra spicy, just the way you like 'em. Might destroy whatever's ailing ya before it can take hold.”

“Sure. Thanks, Dad.”

He gets to work, clattering around the kitchen, pots banging on the counters, noisier than ever. I take a seat at the breakfast counter, watching him make a mess. “Your mom’s taken Max to the movies,” he says. “I know she told you about Gail. She’s been crying all morning. I told her to get out of the house. Shame you’re sick. Max is all well and good, but I think she’d have rather had you to hang out with today. Another girl, y’know.”

Oh, I’m sure she would rather have gouged her own eyes out than spend the day with me. I’m the only other person in the world who knows her dirty little secret. As a rule, I’ve learned that people don’t like spending extended amounts of time with the people who know all about their misdeeds. Seeing them only serves to remind them of their crimes, and they’ll do anything to avoid facing those at all costs. “Yeah, it is a shame. I feel so bad for Dr. Coombes right now,” I murmur.