Lies I Told(48)

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know about Ben, about the Richardsons. But this is the deal. It always has been. You’ve never minded before.”

“That’s not true.” His voice was dangerously low, an undercurrent of anger running through it. “I’ve never liked the way they use you. The way they use us.”

“They’re not using me,” I said. “I’ve profited from our jobs. So have you.”

He continued looking out over the water. “Yeah, well, we’ve lost, too.”

“Maybe. But that’s life. And this is who we are.”

His eyes bore into mine. “What if it isn’t?”

The words struck a chord, some long-buried part of myself snapping to attention.

Maybe, maybe, maybe . . .

But no. I couldn’t afford to think that way. Not now. We were in too deep.

I shook my head. “You can’t just change the rules in the middle of the game.”

“I don’t want to change them,” he said. “I want to stop playing.”

“Parker . . .”

“Come with me, Grace. That’s all I’m asking. You don’t even have to stay with me if you don’t want. I just want you to . . . to have a chance.”

“A chance at what?”

“Another life. A better life.”

“What about you?” I asked. “Don’t you want that, too?”

He looked away. “I think it might be too late for me.”

My heart seemed to skip a beat. “Don’t say that. You’re only a year older than me. If I have a chance, you do, too.”

“I’m not like you, Grace. I don’t have an endless supply of hope, of optimism.”

“You think I don’t lose hope? I don’t feel despair?”

He turned toward me. “Then come with me. Before it’s too late.”

I thought about it, tried to imagine it. Parker and me somewhere else. On our own. No more lying. No more running.

“I’m not saying no,” I said. “I just . . . I can’t think about it right now. Let’s finish this job. Then we can figure out what’s next. Can we do that?”

“You’ll think about getting out?”

I nodded. “But Parker . . . you have to stop what you’re doing. You’re shining a light on the whole family. And neither of us will get out if we’re exposed now.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been at loose ends. But I can hold it together until the end of this job. I will hold it together.”

“Promise?”

He put his arm around me and pulled me close in a brotherly embrace. “I promise.”





Thirty-Six


By Thanksgiving, I was starting to breathe easier. Parker had been less confrontational, and while he was never overjoyed to see me with Logan, he was civil. He had even apologized, offering to pay for the damage to Logan’s car. It wasn’t necessary—Logan had told his parents he’d been a victim of random vandalism—but he had appreciated the offer. They’d shaken hands and that had been that.

We had a quiet Thanksgiving at home with my mom’s notoriously bad turkey and famously good sweet potatoes. Parker and I worked together on the stuffing. Afterward, I drove to Logan’s house for a low-key dessert with his parents. The more time I spent with them, the more I liked them, and I found myself avoiding them despite the fact that they were always warm and welcoming. When I was alone with Logan, it was easier to shut everything else out, but that was a lot harder to do while looking into Warren Fairchild’s haunted eyes, watching Leslie touch his shoulder reassuringly as she passed by.

The Saturday after Thanksgiving I put on my new jeans and a slouchy sweater and headed to Selena’s house. The guys were at Liam’s, breaking in a newly released video game, and Selena and I had agreed to go with Rachel, Olivia, and Harper to a beach party in Malibu. After hearing one too many stories about Rachel’s wild nights in LA and Hollywood, I’d offered to drive. I didn’t want to be at her mercy if I wanted to leave. Plus, Selena had lied to her father, telling him we were going to dinner and a movie, and her cover story depended on making curfew.

She was waiting in the driveway, wearing black jeans that accentuated her curves and a thick white sweater under a leather jacket. As always, her hair was barely contained in its ponytail, curls springing out around her face like they had a mind of their own.

“Hey!” she said, sliding into the passenger side. “I hope you brought a jacket. It’s going to be cold down by the water.”

“I did.” I put the car into gear and headed for Olivia’s house. “And didn’t you say beach parties were over for the year?”

She shrugged, reaching for my iPod on the console. “They practically live on the beach in Malibu. Or so I’ve heard.”

“How’d it go with your dad?” I asked.

“Good.” She changed the song and put the iPod down. “We have no problem as long as I’m home by midnight.”

We picked up Olivia and Harper, and I laughed as they piled into the backseat, fighting over who was going to sit in the middle once we picked up Rachel.

“She is going to hate sitting back here,” Harper said with what I thought might be a note of satisfaction.