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Mom didn’t seem surprised, which told me she already knew. “It’ll be so nice having both my girls under one roof.” I hadn’t seen her smile like that since before Dad died. It tugged at my heart.

“She mentioned something that was pretty interesting,” I threw out there. I figured I might as well start planting the seeds if I wanted them to grow.

Mom continued digging in the dirt, her hands deep in mud. “Did she now?” She sounded distracted. Now was a good time to lob the idea at her.

“Whit says she wants to buy the house.”

Mom’s head jerked up so fast I thought she’d get whiplash. “She wants to buy the house?”

I nodded, chewing my bottom lip, something I always did when I was feeling anxious. “Yeah, then you wouldn’t have to sell it.”

Mom turned back to her digging. “She can’t do that. That’s ridiculous.”

“But, Mom, she wants to do it. Then you can live in it and not worry about moving—”

“I’m the parent here. I don’t need my girls taking care of me.” Her voice was hard.

“Mom, be reasonable,” I went on.

She ignored me, her shoulders rigid, her back straight. The Galloway women were very good at ignoring.

I let out a sigh, knowing the discussion was over—for now. “Okay, well, I’m heading out to see Skylar, then I’ll be at Kyle’s. Probably until late.”

“Remember to take your keys with you. I won’t turn on the alarm.”

“I will,” I said, turning to leave.

“And tell Adam I said hello, and that next time he can stay for breakfast.”

I hurried away before I died of embarrassment.

**

It was getting late. We had been boozing for hours and were all more than a little wasted. Kyle, Adam, Skylar, and I were stretched out on a picnic blanket in the middle of Kyle’s back yard. Most people had left, including quite a few I hadn’t seen since high school. I hadn’t realized how nice it would be to see them again. Adam’s law partner Jeremy was still inside, being too drunk to drive himself home. Lena was wandering around somewhere with several of her friends. It had been a good time. I honestly hadn’t expected it to be. When Kyle called saying he wanted to throw me a ‘Welcome Home’ party, I had immediately balked.

“No way, Webber. That’s a level of cutesy that no one can stomach.”

Kyle argued it would be a small get-together. He had already invited Skylar, who was uncharacteristically onboard with the idea.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when I showed up and the house with teeming with former Southport High classmates. There was Toby Gunther, who I sat beside all through school for the sole reason of where our names were alphabetical. Kristy Dobbs, my old Chemistry lab partner, showed up. Even Stacey and Kevin Newland were there—high school sweethearts who had gone on to have four kids. These were people I hadn’t seen since graduation and hadn’t thought of since, but it was nice to see them all the same. Surprisingly so.

I had been on edge about seeing Adam in such a normal setting. It was one thing to be face to face with him when I was full of rage and indignation, but it was something else entirely to see him after being naked with him multiple times. And wanting to be naked with him again.

Ugh.

But things were going almost too well. The four of us floated into an easy intimacy I hadn’t realized I had missed so terribly. I lay on my back, my leg slung across Adam’s lap, Skylar braiding locks of my hair. Kyle burped loudly, and we all groaned in disgust. I had finally cut myself off after the last round of shots Adam’s law partner, Jeremy, had shoved my way. He was a bit of a douche, but strangely, I liked him. Mostly because I couldn’t take his hopeless flirting seriously. Truthfully, I didn’t think he took it seriously either, though Adam didn’t seem to get that. I could see how it infuriated him every time Jeremy flung an innuendo my way.

I couldn’t help feeling like a giddy schoolgirl every time he clenched his teeth. Jealous Adam made me horny.

Everything felt almost perfect. That should have worried me, but my brain was too fuzzy to panic at the moment.

Adam slid off my flip-flop and ran the tip of his finger along the arch of my foot, making me squirm. I tried to pull away, but he wrapped his hand around my ankle, holding me still, grinning at me all the while. Jerk.

“It wasn’t Mr. Weston; it was Mr. Harrup who caught us drinking on the football field. I should know, he chased me across the fifty-yard line trying to catch me,” Kyle argued, pulling more beer out of the cooler.

“It was Mr. Weston. I remember it clearly. You were three sheets to the wind and probably thought it was the Pope, not our history teacher,” Skylar scoffed, taking the beer he offered her.

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