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I roll my eyes. “Whatever, dude. Keep your secrets then.” I wave bye to my sisters. “Be careful with my car,” I tell Londyn as I back away from her.
“I will,” she calls out as Bailey says, “You be careful, too. If you need some extra carefulness, make sure to stop by the house and visit the cookie jar.”
For the love of all damn unicorns, she so did not just yell that out.
Blaise shoots me a puzzled look as I turn around and walk beside him.
“What’s in the cookie jar?” he asks.
“Cookies,” I lie, scratching my brow. “Obviously.”
“What sort of cookies? Or is cookies code for something?” he asks curiously. “Because you have this look on your face that … I don’t know …” He stares at me, as if trying to read the answer on my face.
Luckily, I’ve never been one for blushing or else my cheeks would be bright red right now.
I lightly elbow him in the side. “There’re just cookies in it, so stop staring at me like that.”
He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “Fine, I’ll let it go for now. But, one day, I’m going to get to the bottom of what the hell you’re hiding in your cookie jar.”
I yawn again. “Good luck with that.”
He smiles but concern floods his eyes. “You’ve yawned, like, ten times in the last five minutes. Just how much sleep did you get last night?”
“I didn’t really go back to sleep after I left your house,” I admit.
“Too excited about having your sisters home?”
“That and confused as to why my sisters are home.”
A crease forms between his brows. “Why did they get dropped off at your house so early anyway? That’s not how Social Services usually works.”
“I know, which makes the entire situation super strange.” I start giving him a recap of what Londyn told me, how some woman dropped her and my sisters off at the house without giving much of an explanation, how the same woman gave Londyn an envelope with a weird wax crest stamped on the seal, how inside the envelope were custody papers signed by my mom.
“Your mom signed the custody papers?” Blaise stares at me in confusion as he unlocks the passenger door of his SUV. “But I thought your mom …” He trails off with remorse in his eyes
“Is dead?” I finish for him, my heart aching. “She is, which is why I’m so damn confused about these papers. I mean, she had to have gotten them drawn up and notarized before she died, but why? It doesn’t make any sense.”
He opens the door. “There wasn’t a note in with the papers that explained why?”
“There was a note from her, but it didn’t explain much of anything, other than, if I was receiving the papers, then my dad lied to her.” I heave a sigh. “I know I should be grateful about the papers—and I am—but I also feel a bit apprehensive about the situation. I almost feel like, at any second, someone is going to show up and tell me it’s not real and that the papers are fake. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to relax until I figure out why my mom had the papers drawn up to begin with, and how the hell she knew I was going to need them. Which means I probably need to track down whoever gave the papers to this woman who dropped off my sisters in the middle of the night.”
I shake my head at myself. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep dumping my problems all over you. I bet you’re really regretting the day you decided to hit on me, huh?”
He rubs his lips together, contemplating something. “I might regret that day, but not for the reason you just said.” He steps back, holding the door open and gesturing for me to get in. “Let’s go get something to eat and see if we can get this bag situation taken care of. Then we can move on to figuring out where these custody papers came from … Maybe I can call up the person I know at Social Services and see if she knows who the woman was that dropped your sister off, and then maybe we can talk to her.”
There he goes again with thatweshit. I should put a stop to it right now. Walk away and handle this myself, but the truth is I need him.
Dammit, I’m so screwed.
Still, I don’t argue, reminding myself that I may need help to clean up my father’s mess. And I need to clean it up or else … Well, I’m not going to think about that right now. Otherwise, I just might lose it.
“Wow, you really are a gentleman,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. “Do they teach you those skills in football?”
He gives me a hardy har har look. “You’re really getting a kick out of this football thing, aren’t you?”
I slide into the passenger seat. “I totally am. It’s beyond amusing and kind of weird.”
Amusement glitters in his eyes. “Why’s it weird?”
