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“I’m sorry, what? Because it sounds like you just offered to give me your allowance every month.”
“Pretty much.” A faint grin traced his lips.
“Why the fuck would you offer to do that?”
“Because I don’t need it. Because they think they can buy my silence. Because I couldn’t help my sister, but I can help you and your grams.”
“Your sister?” I asked.
“Yeah, Penny. She overdosed when I was a kid.”
“Shit, man, I’m sorry.”
I’d heard rumors but I didn’t know the specifics. It made a lot of sense now—why he and Harleigh had developed a friendship.
“Look, if it makes you feel better, you can consider it a loan without interest and you can pay me back as and when you can.”
“Shit, Miller, I appreciate it, I do. But I can’t accept it. It’s too much.”
“Bullshit. You can accept it and you will. What do you think will happen if you can’t make the repayments to this guy? What will happen to your grams then if you’re hurt, or worse, dead.”
A shuddering breath rolled through me, making my stomach turn over. He was right—of course he was. But I’d been desperate. And asking Nix and Harleigh, or Jessa, or Kye and his mom hadn’t felt right, not when they all had so much of their own shit to contend with. But Miller was different. He could afford it. And it wasn’t charity because I’d pay him back every cent and then some.
“You really want to be my loan shark, Miller?”
“I’ve been called worse things in my time.” He smirked. “Let’s just call it a friend helping another friend out.”
“I’ll figure out a way to pay you back every month, I swear. And once I graduate and get a job, things will be easier.”
“It’s all good, man. I’m just glad I can help.”
“You’re sure—”
“Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”
“Thanks, man. I owe you.”
A weight lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t relish the idea of taking handouts off someone like Nate, but maybe it was hearing him say his sister had OD’d that gave things a little perspective.
I’d grown up hating Old Darling Hill and everyone in it. They had it easy, I’d thought. They had money and security and big, posh houses. But maybe I’d underestimated that the illusion didn’t always show what was going on inside, behind closed doors.
Guilt churned deep inside me, but I ignored it.
It didn’t change anything where Celeste was concerned.
Sometimes when you cared about someone—and maybe I did care about her in my own twisted way—the only way to show them was to set them free.
One day, when she was living the dream at college, dating some wealthy med student or lawyer-in-training, Celeste would realize that.
* * *
The second we pulled up outside my trailer, I knew something wasn’t right.
“Expecting a visitor?” Nate asked me, eyeing the car parked out front.
“Not that I know of.”
Dread slicked down my spine as I climbed out of Nate’s car and headed up the ramp. “Grams?” I called out, my senses on high alert as I slipped around the door.
