I shake my head in a no, and both of us glance up at the clock and then the score. Not to anyone’s surprise but we’re still losing, and Princess’s time is almost up.
Where the fuck are you?
fifty-three
Rory
Icheckthetimeon my phone again. Debating.
I’ve been going back and forth for a while over what to do. Should I go? Just drop it?
The longer I stay sitting here, the more time I’m wasting. My fingers drum while I’m staring at the clock. It’s going to be tight, but I think I can manage if I hurry. Time is the one thing not on my side tonight.
My indecision’s holding me back.
“Screw it,” I grumble to myself. Grabbing the book my fingers have been tapping on. After Cole’s and my talk, the other night, my thoughts have festered deepening in my mind.
I’d trusted Alma when she told me a customer had left that book sitting behind. She wouldn’t lie to me. Why she kept it and for how long, I would never know, but despite everything, she’d owned it for a period of time.
Here’s what I do know. Somehow in all of this, I ended up with the book. I also know that it had been Mr. Sketchy’s book at one point too. The small emblem on the inside he showed me gives validation to his claim.
Lorna, at one point, wanted my book as well. Tearing her way through my room and then finding it down where I’d left it in the conservatory. She hasn’t bothered me once about it since. In fact, she hasn’t done anythingbutkeep to herself. Which is more, if not equally, suspicious, but those are questions for another time.
What I don’t know is, if itwasSketchy’s, how did it end up all the way at Alma’s? Another thing that isn’t making sense is that he’d said it had been stolen from him by someone in the family. Why would someone steal his book when the Caspers have limitless pockets?
Nothing makes sense. I can add “anymore” to the end of that sentence, but has anything ever?
I could’ve waited until after the game, but that would have only given my mind more time to make assumptions. Answers are what I want, not speculations.
Give it time,Cole had suggested.The truth will come. It always does eventually.
Well, I’m done giving it time. It’s my turn and I choose now. Charging, I leave my room, knowing exactly where I need to go to get them.
“Abram, there’s something we need to discuss.”
His head snaps up from the papers on his desk. His reaction a little too jittery, panicked almost.
I shake it off, deciding that it’s because he hadn’t been expecting the company. It plays in my favor that he’s finishing up work in his home office.
It’s the hellhounds’ last game before districts start, but I plan on making this quick, same as Abram had that day. My chest rises as my insides jab at the bones underneath. This is the same office he’d called me into when I was twelve.
It’s like stepping straight back in time.
Nothing has changed since. Floor-to-ceiling dark woods, a grand oversized desk of similar wealth on the far side, furniture and minimal decor on the other. The space is too large for one person.
The hairs on my arms stand. At the time, he’d run that conversation, sending me back home to Lillian. Tonight, it’s my turn to lead.
I’m in charge.
He pulls off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes like he’s tired when I drop the book. It lands with an impressive thud on top of his papers. Making my point known.Thisis now the priority.
Casually, he slides out whatever he’d been working on from underneath on a drawn-out sigh. Neatly, he shuffles them before flipping them over to their blank side. Giving me his attention only after he’s done.
Clearly, Abram doesn’t appreciate that I’ve interrupted him or my attempts to be dramatic. My eyes find the ceiling. He’ll get over it.
“You came to discuss a book?”
“Does it look familiar to you?” I ask instead, not in the mood for small talk. Not that I have the time either.