Page 97 of Veiled in Brick

“What’s with the McMansions?”

“McMansions?” I returned to Liam.

“You take some sorta crazy shortcut or what? Don’t you normally have to pay to get into areas like this?” He craned his neck to view the properties around us. “We’re gonna get kicked out, Zo’.”

I knew the neighborhood well, for it was where I was raised.

“We won’t get kicked out,” I chuckled. “This is where my parents live.”

“Huh?!” he exclaimed, turning his head to me with disbelieving eyes.

“My parents live here,” I stated again. “I grew up here.”

“You’re rich?”

I laughed. “I’m not rich. My parents have a comfortable amount of money.”

Liam exclaimed, “That’s what rich people say, Zo’!”

“Mmkay, take a breath, Lee.”

“Take a breath,” he muttered. “Take a breath? How am I supposed to take a breath? You’re loaded.”

“I am not loaded.” I clarified once more. “And neither are my parents—”

“Save it, Zoey, your parents are loaded,” Claire stated.

My parents’ home came into view, their driveway a winding road through azalea bushes on either side that bloomed in a vibrant pink. I drove slowly up the path, stopping when I reached the wooden doors of the garage and putting my car in park. Claire and Luke began to gather their things, and as I glanced to Liam and saw him anxiously picking at stray fibers on the worn spots on his jeans, I announced quietly:

“Meet you guys in there in a second.”

Claire met my gaze in the rearview mirror, nodding as they filed their way out of the back seat and closed the door behind them.

“Lee?”

“Uh huh?”

“You’re freaking out.”

His shifty eyes landed on me and stayed there, silently apologetic. “I don’t know what to do with this,” he admitted softly.

“With meeting my parents?” I asked.

“I’ve never met anyone’s parents before, Zoey,” he noted. “I mean—guys in high school, whatever, yeah, but—”

“You seemed to be fine with the idea earlier—”

“I was—am. Am fine with the idea…but this,” he waved a hand around at what surrounded us, “is…a lot.”

“Liam,” I attempted to console him, “none of this makes a difference.”

“Zoey—”

“It doesn’t. Really.”

“You know where I grew up—”

“Yeah,” I replied quickly, “I do, but—”

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