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She sighed. “Yeah. All right.”
I knew my father would shut that money down. The second he caught wind of that transfer, he’d try to cancel it. I’d be lucky if I saw that money in my account in the morning. Cecilia went and retrieved her phone, poking away at the screen. And as she held it to her ear, I heaved a heavy sigh.
Before running down a plan in my mind.
I need to call that lawyer.
I didn’t know how much I was really privy to in this house. What could I sell without my father getting me into trouble over it? Could he claim I was stealing from hi
m? Extorting him, somehow? Those were questions for a lawyer. But I didn’t know if I’d open another can of worms trying to ask those kinds of questions.
My eyes darted around the house. Everything expensive came into view all in one get-go. But if Dad was going to sell the house, then downsizing was reasonable. Right? I sell off his things, keep the money, and claim downsizing efforts in the process. I didn’t know. It didn’t make a lot of sense. I clocked the suede couches and the paintings on the walls. The sculptures standing on columns around the room. The projector television. All the fine china we had in a cupboard in the dining room. Legitimate silverware for days. Like it was plastic wear to us.
Even selling the small things would net me well over a hundred thousand dollars.
Could I get away with it, though?
A slam against the front door ripped me from my trance. Cecilia came rushing back into the room with her eyes wide as saucers. I held my arm out and stopped her in her tracks. I peeked down at her and mouthed ‘stay put’ before making my way for the door. I slowly approached it and peeked out the frosted windows to try and see who was out there.
But when I opened the door, the last person I expected to be there stood in front of me.
“Can you talk? Because we need to talk.”
Rae’s voice filled my ears and it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a fantasy. I ran my eyes down her body, clocking her crooked form. Her tired eyes. The bags underneath them that accentuated how pale her skin looked. Had she lost weight? Her cheeks looked a little sunken in. That could be from exhaustion, though.
Why is she so tired?
I looked back at my stepmother and she nodded, urging me to go outside and sit on the porch. I turned my eyes back to Rae and stared at her, our eyes connecting for the first time in days. My heart skipped a beat. My stomach exploded with butterflies. Hell, I felt my knees fucking go weak.
This isn’t good.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
She glared up at me. “Outside, please.”
“Rae, I can’t—”
“The least you owe me is that.”
I sighed as I stepped out onto the porch. Mostly because I knew she was right. Out of all this insanity and all she’d done for me, the least I owed her was an explanation. But would she accept it? Would she accept my words and leave with a lighter heart? I wasn't sure if she would.
I wasn’t sure if I would.
I closed the door behind me and ushered her over to the rocking chairs. Her disheveled hair got tossed around in the wind as it whipped around the house. A smell crept underneath my nose, forcing it to curl up. And as I sat down next to Rae, the smell grew.
What is that smell, anyway?
“You look good, considering.”
I focused on her. “You—you do, too.”
She snickered. “You’re a terrible liar. But thanks anyway.”
“I’m not lying.”
And when she shot me a look, I kept my mouth shut.
“Moving, Clint? Really?”
