“I wish other people understood that,” he mutters. “I’ve been told my whole life that I just need to focus and pay attention and take things more seriously, and all these issues will just magically go away. Guess they were wrong because I’m almost twenty-one and things are just getting worse.”
“My dad told me something that really stuck with me,” I say, choosing my words carefully. I don’t want to invalidate West’s feelings, but I also don’t want him to believe the shit people have been saying about him because none of it is true. “He said that everyone I meet will have opinions about me and will judge everything I do, and I can either spend my time and energy trying to make myself fit into what they want me to be, or I can realize that their opinions don’t mean shit and it’s not worth wasting my time caring about them or their thoughts.”
West nods slowly, and I can see that he’s mulling over what I said.
The opening notes of “Bella Ciao” play as my phone lights up with a call.
“I have to get that,” I tell West.
“Do you want me to…” He points to my door.
“It’s fine. This shouldn’t take too long.” I swipe to answer my dad’s call. “Ciao, Papa.”
“Anthony,” my father says in place of a greeting. “I’m glad I caught you,” he continues, switching to Italian. “Are you busy?”
“No, just hanging out with a friend,” I say, also speaking in Italian.
My dad speaks fluent English, the same as his parents, my grandparents, and my great-grandparents, but he prefers to speak Italian with family because it keeps us connected to our roots. And because it’s harder for people to eavesdrop and use your conversations against you if they have to translate everything you say first.
West’s eyes widen when he hears me speak Italian, but he grabs his phone and quickly pretends to get immersed in his Instagram feed.
“I won’t keep you long,” my dad says, and by the tone of his voice, he’s pissed about something. “But this couldn’t wait.”
“What’s going on?”
“I heard there was an issue at the house with an outsider breaking in and using information that no one should have access to to move around,” he says, and I can’t tell if he thinks I know about this and have hidden it from him, or if he’s just relaying the information. “What do you know about this?” he asks, and I still can’t tell if he already knows we’re involved in this.
“I know a few things,” I tell him.
He listens as I go through everything from seeing Xave at the party and catching him breaking into the mystery room to confronting Damon and getting a copy of the app.
“Did you figure out what was in the room that boy broke into?” he asks after a pregnant pause.
“Liam did,” I tell him. “It was built around a new breaker box and a part of their house server that they installed whenthey upgraded their security over the Christmas break. From what Liam said, the only reason he even figured it out was that he caught some chatter from Carter, the Rebel’s tech guy, about finding the approved building plans, and Liam was able to use that info to track them down. I didn’t really understand the technical jargon, but he basically said the plans were deliberately concealed and he never would have found them if Carter hadn’t found them first.”
“That’s not surprising considering who Carter is and what he’s capable of,” my dad says dryly. “And that same boy, Xave, is the one who was breaking into the house so he could meet up with his boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“And you think making him pinky promise through his boyfriend is enough to stop him from using the information he has against you for helping him to cover it up?”
“He could try,” I say with a shrug, even though he can’t see me. “But I know more than enough of his secrets to come out on top if he’s stupid enough to use my goodwill against me.”
“As long as you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Are you handling this in-house, or is the leadership involved?” he asks.
“In-house. Liam’s holding them off for as long as possible.”
“Just make sure this doesn’t blow up in your face,” he says.“I trust your judgment, and your logic is sound. Just remember what I told you.Knowledge is power—”
“Knowledge is power,” I say at the same time as him.
“I’ll let you get back to your evening,” he says, but he can’t hide the hint of interest in his voice. “And to yourfriend,” he adds a little extra emphasis on the word. “Now that I know everything is under control.”
“It is. And if things suddenly go sideways or there’s a hiccup, you’ll be the first to know.”
