Fallen Crest Family (Fallen Crest High #2)(66)

"You okay?" Mason squeezed my hand.

I looked down at our joined hands. We hadn't stopped touching since we arrived at the apartment. There was always some contact between us. Even when I used the bathroom, he stood next to me brushing his teeth with our feet touching.

"Yeah," I sighed. I would be, because of him.

He wheeled into a gas station and turned off the engine. "You want food? We can get some here or stop somewhere. We'll be back in time to get to the school."

"We can stop somewhere." My voice was hoarse.

He grinned at me, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and hopped out. I stared at my hand. It felt so natural to always hold onto his. It wasn't long before he got back inside and turned the car onto the highway. Without a word, he reached for my hand again.

I closed my eyes at the natural fit and rested my head against my seat. I felt at peace.

When we got to the school, Mason went in search for his basketball coach. He left me alone in the office with the beady-eyed secretary. Her hair was swept into a salt and pepper bun with a pink cardigan tied over her shoulders like she was an Ivy Leaguer. The lady must've been 86, but she was thorough. It took me an hour to fill out all the papers. I didn't even know there were that many papers needed to switch schools, but when I told her that Coach Grath was the one mentoring me, everything got a lot simpler. The papers disappeared after that, and when she found out that I'd be 18 in a week, she waved me off and told me that I was done. I was registered for all my classes.

When I went back to the hallway, I had no idea where to go.

The school was huge, like a cathedral, and it was a foreign land to me. The only times I had been at their school were for football games. Those occurred outside, not inside. Fallen Crest Academy didn't play Fallen Crest Public in any other sports. FCP was in a higher competitive league and only played the football teams because of some local agreement. I knew their football coach respected my da—David a lot. They were all good friends, but I wasn't sure about the basketball coaches or the rest of the sports. I think it had more to do with David than anything else. He tended to have friendships with a lot of schools. I knew he was friendly with the Roussou coach as well.

I waited for Mason in the athletic hallway. Glass cases were mounted on the wall with trophies and team pictures inside.

"Samantha?"

Everything stopped.

A surreal emotion came over me and I looked up. Then my eyes bugged out. I clamped onto my other arm with a death grip and I stopped breathing. I saw his reflection in the trophy glass first before I turned. It was a struggle. My knees locked, and I almost fell into the glass.

David caught my other arm and pulled me upright.

"Thanks." A weak squeak came from me.

He was dressed in a tracksuit with the letters FCA above the Academy's emblem. A whistle hung from his neck, and he held a bunch of papers in his hand.

"What are you doing here?" My voice sounded strangled.

"Oh. Uh." He gave me a tired look and rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Coaches meeting. It was held here today instead of the normal place."

"Normal place?"

"Yeah, we usually grab lunch somewhere. Lenny asked if he could cater in for us. He had something else going on and needed to be back right away." Then he frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm…" Could I tell him? Then I remembered that he'd been paid off. Did he deserve to know? I hadn't processed anything from that night. I didn't know if I wanted to process anything, but I heard myself saying, "I'm going to school here next semester."

"Oh." He took a step back, blinking in surprise. "O—you are?"

I nodded.

He glanced up and down the hallway as he took a deep breath. His shoulders lifted up and descended. It wasn't meant to be dramatic, but it seemed like it. David was 45. He looked in his fifties at that moment. There was no graying in his hair. It was the same dark brown, combed to the side like always, but he looked old. He looked defeated.

Then he sighed, "I see."

"What do you see?"

There was disappointment in his depths as he gave me a sad look. "Does your mother know about your plans?"

I didn't hold back the bitterness. "I don't think my mother has any say in my life. She's made it clear to me that she only cares about herself, and maybe James. She needs to keep one guy in her life. He has to bankroll her whenever she needs it." I scanned him up and down. "But then again, she might not even have him anymore."

He narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about, Samantha?"

My chest tightened and I jerked a shoulder up. "What do you care? You got paid to not care."

He took another step back, as if blown back by a sudden gust of wind. He blinked rapidly as he rubbed his jaw again. "I'm not following you. Wha—what are you talking about?"

"She. Paid. You. To. Stay. Away. From. Me."

"Honey—"

He reached for my arm, but I yanked it away. "Don't call me that," I seethed. My teeth were clenched together. "Don't ever call me that again."

"Samantha." His arm fell, as did his voice.

"Did she pay you to stay away?"

I needed to know this answer; I needed to know it so much. If she had, I didn't know how I would handle it.