I’ve told him more than he should know—I told him more than it’s safe to know. No more letting my guard slip.
Stick to the script was drilled in my head by the police and federal agents trained in this stuff.
You’re not Thea Kennedy anymore. You’re Isabella Smith, they told me.
When that didn’t work, they told me I wasn’t Isabella Smith anymore, that I was Hailey Johnson.
When that didn’t work, I knew what was coming. I didn’t even wait for them to give me a name—I picked Amelia Collins, and they filled out the documents.
This only works if you keep the secret, they told me. You are Amelia Collins. No one can know otherwise. If they find out, Tony finds out.
He’s dedicated his life to finding me. One slipup on my part and he’s at my door. One slipup and he’s here again, sending me death threats or breaking into my house, or finding me at a part-time job and trying to kidnap me at gunpoint again.
Tony will not find out. No one will find out. I like it here. I’m not slipping up.
14
After parking near the back of the lot, I make my way toward school just in time to catch Aiden pulling in.
“Aiden!” I call out to get his attention as he climbs out of his gorgeous Challenger.
“Hey, about Friday night—”
He leans against his car and takes the now-familiar stance: arms crossed, eyes intense. “What about it?”
“It’s just, you know that . . . could you maybe—”
“Do you seriously think you have to ask?”
“Pardon?”
“Were you not just going to ask me to keep my mouth shut about Friday?”
“Maybe?”
He gives a low, humorless chuckle and straightens up from where he was leaning on the car. “You really think you had to ask me to keep your secret?”
“Well, I mean—I figured I wouldn’t, but it’s kind of important, and I wanted to make sure.”
“You really thought I’d tell people? Jesus, Amelia, I should just get you a trampoline since you love jumping to conclusions.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Aiden Parker?” I laugh.
“What?” He smirks.
“I didn’t know that you were familiar with the art of teasing,” I say.
I can’t believe how much he’s opened up to me in such a short amount of time. If you told me a few days ago that Aiden Parker would joke around with me, I would’ve asked you which mental institution you escaped from.
He’s guarded: he keeps his emotions locked up and only lets people see his anger, boredom, or indifference. But he opened up to me, told me about his mom and dad, and now he’s joking with me. I’m getting to know the true Aiden Parker, not the tough asshole he wants everyone to believe he is, and I like him.
“Being an intimidating asshole all the time gets boring. I like to spice it up sometimes,” he jokes.
I laugh again before stopping and staring at him in awestruck amazement. Aiden is giving me a real, full smile. Not a smirk. Not a sneer. But a real, full, happy smile. My heart beats faster as I realize that it’s directed at me. And it’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.
He realizes that I’m staring at him and raises an eyebrow, a ghost of his smile still on his face. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just—I’ve never seen you smile like that before,” I tell him honestly, quietly adding, “You should do it more often.”