by Meghan March
“Nope. They decided to hold off until next fiscal year because the demo costs were higher than planned. They’ve got one of the buildings rented out. It was dirt cheap, so I was pretty lucky to get in.”
Lucky isn’t exactly a word I would use to describe the complex I’m remembering. Shit hole is a better description.
Ten minutes later when I pull into the parking lot in front of the building, I confirm my opinion. This place is a dump. The yellow, orange, and blue panels that make up the corners of the buildings are faded almost beyond recognition and are falling off in chunks. Basically, picture the crappiest ’60s no-tell motel you’ve ever seen and downgrade it another step. I remember coming to a party here when I was a senior in high school and being shocked at the shitty conditions. That was over six years ago, and things have only slid further downhill since.
“I’m down at the other end. Last one on the first floor.”
I guide the Camaro in the direction Justine indicates and pull into a parking spot marked by faded yellow lines and a crumbling curb.
“Shit!”
My gaze jerks to Justine, but she’s already out of the car and dashing toward the building before I realize what the problem is. The door looks like someone kicked it in.
I yank open the door of the Camaro and charge after her. The girl’s an idiot to go running into a break-in scene. Wrapping a hand around her wrist, I pull her back.
“What the hell are you doing? Someone could still be inside.”
She struggles against me, then twists out of my grip with what must be some kind of evasive move like they teach in self-defense classes.
“And if they’re still inside, they haven’t gotten away with stealing my stuff!”
Her struggles intensify, so I wrap her in a backward bear hug, locking both arms around her waist before I pick her up off the ground. “Not fucking happening,” I growl into her ear. No way in hell am I letting her take a chance of getting hurt because of her adrenaline-fueled reaction. “Get back in the car and call Campus Safety. I’ll go in.”
She continues to fight me for another minute, and I almost expect elbows to start flying, but she finally stills.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll call.” She speaks through gritted teeth.
I lower her to her feet facing the Camaro. “Go.”
She turns to glare at me but follows my orders. Once she’s safely inside the car, I use an elbow to push open the door and flip on the front light switch with a sleeve-covered fist.
Much like I expected, the apartment’s best days were several decades ago. On the other hand, it’s clean and neat. It doesn’t take long to deduce what was stolen, but I continue my walk through the place just in case there’s something else that’s obvious or the person is still hiding inside.
The apartment is silent, and other than a rumpled shirt and a pair of shorts on the bathroom floor, it doesn’t seem that much is out of place. Rather than linger and wonder what else could possibly be missing, I head back outside, pulling the door shut behind me. With the door busted, there’s no way in hell Justine is sleeping there tonight. The rest of the cars in the parking lot resemble the one we left in the parking lot at Panda House—older and edged with rust.
Justine is out of the Camaro with her arms crossed over her chest before I make it to her door. “What did you see? Are they gone? What does it look like inside? Is everything gone?” Her questions come fast, telling me the adrenaline is still rushing through her system.
“There’s no one inside, but it looks like they stole your TV. Maybe some other stuff. You’ll need to go through it when the cops get here. You called?”
She nods. “Yeah, but I don’t know how much it’ll help. This is the third break-in this week here, and it’s all been petty theft. They didn’t take my TV. I didn’t have one.” She rubs her hands up and down her arms as I take her in.
“Third break-in? Are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah, since school started. No leads.”
I open my mouth to ask her why the hell she’d stay here, but I already know the answer. She’s too broke to go anywhere else and too proud to ask for help.
She walks closer to the front door, which is splintered at the bottom where someone kicked it in with what looks like heavy boots and some serious anger problems. “Why? Why would someone do this? It’s not like I have anything worth stealing,” she murmurs as she covers her hand with her sleeve to push the door open.
I follow her inside and survey the interior closer this time. Justine’s gaze catalogs every single possession, and she’s right—she doesn’t have much to steal.
She checks the bedroom and bathroom, and shakes her head when she emerges. “I had my laptop with me, and I don’t see anything else missing that I can tell.” Her gaze travels around the room once more. “I would notice, right?”
She looks up at me, and the pinched and worried set of her face kills me. She shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of shit.
“Have you stashed anything in here where only you could find it?”
She shakes her head. “No. Nothing. Who would do this?”
“Some asshole who gets off on destroying property. You’re lucky they didn’t trash the inside too. Maybe someone scared them off before they could.”
A shaft of anger stabs through me when I think about someone breaking in while Justine was home. She’s not staying here, but we also can’t leave it unlocked. I wouldn’t be surprised if this place was cleared out by morning by her neighbors.
“Maintenance is going to have to fix the door before you can leave tonight.”
Justine turns to me, her arms wrapped around herself. The adrenaline is slipping away and fear is taking hold. “I have to call Merica. She’ll let me stay on her couch.”
“Wait until Campus Safety gets here. Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”
She drops her arms to her sides. “I don’t need you to babysit me. I can handle this myself. I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”
“Let me help. You don’t have to be such a badass all the time.”
That’s when I see her shaking. Fuck it. I drop my hand, wrap both arms around her, and pull her into my chest. She shakes harder.
“It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you. They’re going to have to come through me first.”
Justine relaxes, but only for a moment, because blue and red lights cut through the dark of the night. She tenses and pulls away, and I’m almost certain she’s blinking back tears.
The two green-and-white cruisers park to the left of my Camaro, and two officers climb out of the cars. The one who appears to be in charge looks from me to Justine, who is back to standing with her arms wrapped protectively around her middle.
“Miss, are you the one who called in a break-in?”
Justine nods and talks to the cops for several moments before leading them inside. I stay out front, waiting by the Camaro, deciding how I’m going to broach the subject of her coming to stay at my condo. She’s going to say no every which way I can come up with.
That’s when my second idea takes root, and this one just might have a shot.
A few minutes later, the uniformed Campus Safety officer leads the way out of the apartment, and I walk over to where he’s talking with Justine.
“We’ll get someone down here from maintenance within the hour to board up the door and then get it replaced tomorrow. The door, handle, and lock are all toast.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Justine’s voice isn’t as strong, and my instincts say it’s time to get her the hell out of here.
“Do you have somewhere else you can stay tonight?” the officer asks.
Before she can reply, I interrupt. “She’s got a place, sir. We’ve got it taken care of.”
The officer finally looks at me again and nods. “Good, because staying here isn’t a good option. This place is becoming the easy target for thieves, and you’re lucky nothing was taken, Miss Porter.”
Justine
chokes out a laugh that sounds harsh in the quiet night. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”
“Let me make the call to maintenance so we don’t have to stand around here all night.” The cop walks toward the cruiser and pulls out a phone, and I step closer to Justine.
“Anything you need to get from inside? Because we’re getting out of here as soon as the maintenance guys show up.”
She shoves both hands into her hair before turning away and pacing. “I need to call Merica. I think she might be in her night class still. And I have no car. Shit.”
“You’re not staying with Merica; you’re coming with me. You don’t need a car.”
She spins around, and I’m glad to see the normal fiery Justine coming back. “And where do you think you’re taking me? Your place?”
I know she’s gearing up to shoot me down, so I drop plan B on her.
“No. We’re going to my parents’ house.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Justine
The gate slides open and Ryker guides his Camaro up the long, winding driveway. I didn’t even know that there were houses in this town that had gates. It seems even stranger to be driving with Ryker’s hand resting on my leg. The touch started out as comforting because I couldn’t stop my leg from shaking when I got in the car, but then he never moved it and I didn’t protest.
The break-in rocked me, and I can’t help but feel like my one safe place has been violated. When the anger began wearing off, all I could picture was what would have happened if someone had broken in while I was home. The shaking hasn’t stopped since.
I don’t often seek comfort from others, but I’m glad I wasn’t alone tonight. It doesn’t matter how strong I tell myself I am; I’m also self-aware enough to know that I have a breaking point. Tonight might have cracked it.
Still, I’m surprised Ryker didn’t insist on taking me to his condo. Probably because he knows I would have insisted on calling Merica.
When he said he was bringing me here, I couldn’t find the words to say no. Justice Grant is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and if I’m being honest, I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to have a man like him as a father. I’ve never met Mrs. Grant, so I have no idea what to expect from the woman I’ve seen in the family pictures Justice Grant keeps in his chambers. The perfect family, that’s what those pictures could have been captioned.
The only family pictures I have are snapshots of me and Gramps together. My parents never bothered.
The house comes into view, and it’s just as perfect as those pictures. White and huge, with a red front door.
We park in front of one of the four garage stalls, and Ryker climbs out of the car. I’m not sure I’m ready for this. When I don’t get out right away, he comes around and opens my door.
“Let me get your bag for you.”
A thought strikes me. “Do your parents know we’re coming? Did you call them?” I flip through the last hour in my head, and he had the opportunity when I was inside with Campus Safety, checking once more to see if anything had been stolen, but I don’t remember him saying anything.
“My mom won’t be home, and my dad won’t care. He likes you.”
Warmth creeps into my chest at the approval in those words, and I climb out of the car to follow him to a side door. A little of my anxiety drains away at not having to meet his mother tonight. She looks so flawless in the pictures, and I’ve often wondered if there’s any way she could be as kind as Justice Grant.
Inside the garage, there are three shiny black cars and one under a cover. A hint of red peeks out from under the gray nylon. Ryker doesn’t slow, just heads for the door and twists the knob.
“Dad, you around?” His deep voice echoes through the house, bouncing off dark, shining wood floors and stark white walls. The ceilings are at least ten feet tall—maybe taller. I hear movement ahead, and Ryker walks toward it and turns the corner.
“What brings you out here tonight?” Justice Grant’s voice is comforting and familiar after the crap night I’ve had.
I peek around the corner as well, and his brow furrows with confusion when he sees me. His gaze darts between me and Ryker.
“And Justine. This is quite the surprise.”
“Justine’s place got broken into and she couldn’t stay there. Luckily, I was giving her a ride home from dinner and came up with the great idea that she stay here tonight. I’ll crash in my old room. She can take the guest room.” Ryker’s arm comes around my shoulders, and he pulls me closer to his side.
More confusion and questions enter Justice Grant’s eyes, but I’m not at liberty to answer most of them in front of his son. The fact unleashes a wave of guilt inside me. What must he think of me? I need a chance to talk to him alone.
“That’s awful, Justine. I’m so sorry to hear that. Where are you living? Did you call the police? Have they found who did it?” Justice Grant fires off questions, and Ryker takes the liberty of answering for me.
“She’s in Gilroy, and apparently the university has let it get run-down to the point where break-ins are common. Campus Safety barely blinked about it. It was bullshit.”
“I thought Gilroy was being torn down?”
“Next year.” I explain the same thing I did to Ryker, and by the end of it, Justice Grant looks about like he did when he was told someone disagreed with his judicial opinion.
“That’s ridiculous, especially if Campus Safety isn’t patrolling it appropriately. I’ll have to discuss it with the university’s board of trustees.”
Well, shit. What if they decide the place isn’t fit to be lived in and kick us all out? I don’t have somewhere else to go right now that I can afford without a roommate, and I really don’t want to have to find another one.
I guess if I had to, there’s always Merica’s couch to crash on. Why didn’t I call her before I let Ryker talk me into coming here? The only excuse I can come up with is my brain is completely fried from the double stroke of bad luck hitting home tonight. Besides, it wasn’t like Ryker was asking me if I wanted to come here; he just told me I was. Why did I let him do that?
Moment of weakness, I assure myself. That’s all it was.
“Let’s get you settled upstairs. My wife would love to meet you, but she’s out of town on an extended project. She’s much better at this hospitality stuff than I am, but we keep the room ready regardless. The housekeeper was here yesterday, so it should be dusted and aired out.”
I smile, trying not to convey just how out of place I feel right now as he continues.
“And you’ve eaten already, so we don’t need to worry about that, unless you’d like some dessert. Or would you like a drink? A glass of wine? Something stronger? It sounds like you’ve had a rough night.”
It’s strange to see Justice Grant in domestic mode, but he’s just as thoughtful as he’s always been. I’m not sure what to say in response, and I look to Ryker to gauge his expression.
He’s already looking down at me. “Want a drink? Might help you get to sleep. I know we need to be up early for class.”
“Uh, sure.”
“Preference?” Justice Grant asks.
I don’t think now is the time to ask for vanilla vodka and root beer, but that’s all I really drink. I’m not sophisticated. I don’t know anything about wine, so I take the easy route. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having. I’m not picky.”
“Then cognac it is. You’ll enjoy it. This one is Ryker’s favorite.”
I nod, even though I don’t have a clue what cognac is, but I want to sleep without having nightmares about someone breaking into my house while I’m inside it. I can just imagine the icy, gut-wrenching fear would have been ten times stronger than the anger and helplessness I felt when I saw the door was kicked in. If Ryker hadn’t pushed me to study tonight at Unwired, I would have been studying at home. Inwardly, I shudder at the thought of what could have happened.
“I’m going to get Justine settled upstairs, and we
’ll be back down,” Ryker tells his father.
“I’ll pour some cognac in the library and have it waiting.”
I follow Ryker as he leads me up a wide staircase in the front entryway of the house and then down a hallway to the right. The walls are all stark white, but not plain, because there’s molding about three feet up from the floor and what looks like picture-frame-shaped molding below it. We stop at the end of the hall where there’s a door to the right and a door ahead of us. Ryker twists the handle on the door on the right and steps inside.
It’s a beautiful room in shades of silvery gray and pale purple. A large four-poster canopy bed dominates the space with gauzy silver fabric hanging from it. The matching dark wood dresser sits on the far wall, and a pale purple chair and footstool sit between the dresser and the bed. The silvery curtains are open, but I can see nothing beyond the darkness of the night.
“This is the guest room. Sorry about the purple-and-gray explosion.”
“It’s beautiful.” And it is. Actually, it’s the most beautiful bedroom I’ve ever been in.
Ryker sets my backpack on the bed and nods to the door a few feet from the bed. “You’ve got a bathroom through there that connects with my room. My room is next door, the one at the end of the hall.” He steps toward me and lifts a hand to my face before brushing a stray lock of hair away from my eyes. “If you want to just crash instead of having a drink with my dad, that’s cool. No pressure.”
What I want is for him to kiss me again.
I freeze at the thought. I can’t be thinking things like that. And not just because we’re standing in his parents’ house.
But Ryker doesn’t kiss me. He stares into my eyes, trying to read my thoughts, and I’m glad he doesn’t have that power. I saw the confused look on Justice Grant’s face when Ryker curled his arm around my shoulders. He has to be wondering what the hell is going on between his son and me.
I need to talk to him alone. I need to explain that it’s nothing.
Because it is nothing. Right?
Maybe if I keep lying to myself, it’ll come true. Fake it till you make it, right?
