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Isabelle takes me to lunch at a little café she’s been harping on about since we met. She said they make the best rhubarb pie, so that’s what we have, and she was right.
We had toasted sandwiches, and I ate more than I had in days.
We’re just finishing up now with some hot chocolate.
The hour is nearly up and I’m dying to talk to someone about what’s going on with me, but I can’t say anything.
The past taught me that I shouldn’t trust anyone.
When I first found out about Mom and Cal, I told my then best friend. The way I found out was not good because I came home and found them in bed together.
Mom wasn’t expecting me back that day as I was supposed to be going to my friend’s for the weekend.
I told one person and that story landed in the gossip magazines months later when the shit blew up with Dad.
I don’t know Isabelle at all. She seems nice, but then everyone seems a certain way until you get to know them.
I didn’t even tell her about the car or the drugs for the same reason.
“So, I noticed Chad is still obsessed with you.” She raises a brow and takes a sip of her drink. “Has he done anything more to you?”
Boy, if she only knew.
“No.”
“I kind of mentioned the run-in you had with him to my father. I didn’t give specifics, I just thought it would help if someone kept an eye on him. I figured you were going through enough as it is, settling in, and you didn’t need any bullshit from that Neanderthal.”
My spirits lift, and I’m in awe that she would think of me in such a way.
“I hope that was okay?” She adds tentatively.
“Thank you. And of course. Thanks for doing that for me.”
“No worries. You sure he hasn’t done anything else? You seem really on edge. I know you were sick, and you have other stuff going on, but I feel that something else might be up.”
I stare back at her, wishing I could say something, anything, but I can’t.
Even if I told her the milder part of my problem—practically making out with my bully—she’d think I was insane.
This problem of mine is something I need to figure out myself.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Okay. But do tell me if I can help with that or anything else. Even if it’s just to have someone to talk to. As you can see, I don’t have that many friends. People don’t like hanging with the principal’s daughter, and my social life took a nosedive when my dad threatened to kill the last boy I liked.”
“Wow, that happened?”
“Yes, very embarrassing. So I barely date and until I leave for college, he has to know who I’m with. You haven’t really had the pleasure of meeting him properly. He’s principal material, but he can be a little scary for obvious reasons.”
She means because of the Bratva.
My curiosity piques and I think to ask her a little more about the things I’ve always wondered about.
“What is it like?” I search her eyes when they widen slightly.
“You mean my life?”
“Yes. Of course, don’t answer if that’s prying too much.”
