Page 39 of Always: A Legacy Novel

“You’re not going to go to jail, right, Daddy?”

Dante didn’t turn around when he spoke. “I’m trying really hard not to, sweetheart.”

“Cross, take a walk with me,” Catherine’s father said.

Cross shot Catherine a smirk before he disappeared out of the kitchen, following behind Dante. As soon as he was out of the entryway, Catherine stood from her chair, ready to follow behind and eavesdrop.

“Nope,” Catrina said from her position at the stove.

She hadn’t even turned around.

“But—”

“Don’t move from that chair, Catherine. Sit back down.”

“What’s he going to say to Cross, then?” she asked.

Catrina shrugged, still prepping her dishes on the stove. “I assume whatever the hell comes to his mind, but who knows?”

Catherine’s heart sped up a bit, and her stomach dropped. “Why?”

“Stop worrying. This is a happy week, Catherine.”

Well, it was supposed to be. Her father’s sentencing for his trial had ended with probation, not jail time. Their family was in celebration mode all over the city. Cross had agreed to come for dinner.

“Trust me, that boy knew exactly what he was in for when he was dropped off for dinner.” Catrina smiled sweetly over her shoulder. “Why don’t you go to the library and read a bit?”

“Fine, whatever.”

“And don’t go eavesdropping, Catherine!” her mother shouted at her back.

Dammit.

Catherine opted to go to her bedroom instead of their private library. She grabbed her tablet and fell lengthways on the bed, scrolling through social media pages of her friends from her old school, and the new one. Mostly, that was how she kept in touch with people from her old school. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that until a shadow fell over her from up above.

She tilted her head back on the edge of the bed to find Cross looking down at her.

“Hey,” he said.

Catherine smiled. “Hey.”

“I didn’t think I would see the inside of a house that is bigger than my family’s.”

“Yeah, it’s not really a house, more like a hotel.”

It was massive with an indoor pool, private library, three acres of land, and a small guest house overtop the four-car garage.

Catherine never asked much about Cross’s parents or his home, or if he had money. She just assumed he did because he went to the same school she did—a private establishment that cost more than what most people made a year in tuition. Plus, Cross didn’t exactly go without when it came to phones, clothes, or whatever the hell he seemed to want.

Kind of like her.

“Your father doesn’t like me,” Cross said with a smirk.

Catherine frowned. “What, why?”

“Because I have something between my legs that you don’t.”

Her cheeks heated instantly. “That’s not true.”