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Perfect. I still think I’d rather skip school.
Finn:
Don’t tell Maverick. He’ll whisk you away before you can say boo.
Me:
It’s tempting.
Finn:
You got this, V. Go face the masses with your crown on. I’ll see you later?
Me:
Okay. Also, since when did you get so good at pep talks?
Finn:
**Wink emoji**
I tuck my phone back away, leaning into Maverick, hating the distance I need to keep from Lincoln in public until this bullshit with Georgia is over. We walk into school; whispers still follow us but it’s easy enough to drown them out.
Indi pauses, staring down the hall, and I stop beside her. “What?”
I follow her line of sight and see Blair, crying, at my locker.
“Did hell freeze over?” Indi hisses. “Why the fuck is she waiting for you? For us? And fucking crying? I didn’t know she could cry.”
“Fuck knows, but I guess we’re about to find out,” I say as Lincoln’s calculating gaze takes in my cousin.
We walk toward her, and she wipes away her tears when she sees us. “Lincoln, I need your help.”
Maverick laughs loudly, drawing attention, and I mentally groan.
“Why should I help you, Blair?” Lincoln asks, folding his arms across his chest. I get a little distracted by just how good he looks right now, then turn back to my cousin.
“You have no reason to. None. I’m a bitch, I’m fully aware of it. But I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
Her voice wobbles and my heart softens. Why am I such a soft touch?
“What do you need, Blair?” I ask.
She looks at me, hatred shining in her eyes. “I don’t need anything from you.”
“Blair,” Lincoln warns, and she flushes.
“Sorry. I just… we need somewhere to stay. They took the house, they took everything until after my dad’s trial. My grandparents won’t help us, saying they don’t want anything to do with Dad’s fallout. It’s all such a mess. I don’t have it in me to try and pretend to be nice.”
“At least she’s honest,” Indi sighs.
I bite my lip, wondering if I shouldn’t have been so harsh to my aunt.
“Octavia?” Lincoln says my name, as if making it my decision, so I nod. No one deserves to pay for the actions of others like this. Not even my black-hearted cousin and aunt. “Fine, you can stay in the cottage. It’s small, but it’s warm. It’s on the outskirts of the Cove, so it’s close enough for school.”
“Thank you,” she says to him, even though her smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes as she turns to me. She nods, wiping at her tear-stained face before holding her head up high and walking away from us through the masses that call her names and jeer at her.
None of it seems to faze her.
I’ll give her one thing: no one wears a mask of indifference quite like Blair Royal.
I just can’t help but wonder if it’ll do her more harm than good.
