Page 8 of Trustfall

“You forgot your mail.” He smiles as he hands me the stack of envelopes. God, I’m surprised I don’t forget my own name when he’s around.

“Thank you.” I grab the mail and walk the rest of the way up the steps. When I turn back around, he’s gone.

I glance over at his driveway and see him pulling a suitcase from the back of his truck. As I watch his muscles flex against his grey T-shirt, I think to myself, if time can heal pain and embarrassment, maybe it can also heal attraction. That's all this is—I’m just attracted to Luke. It's not a big deal. I've had crushes on plenty of guys before.

Not like him.

I shake off the nagging voice in the back of my head. Luke was my first real crush, and seeing him again after all this time has brought back those silly, childish feelings. It's just puppy love, that's all. Maybe with time, I'll get used to his killer smile and that dimple on his cheek, and my feelings will fade into the background. I can only hope. Because one thing's for sure—I can't fall again. I won't survive it a second time.

4

EMORY

I pullup to the large gate in front of my father’s house and press the intercom button. The voice of one of his staff members comes through.

“Come on in, Emory. Your father is expecting you.”

“Thanks,” I say as the gate opens with a slow creak. I drive through and park in the circular driveway. I find it funny that his staff members say the same thing every time I arrive.Your father is expecting you.Like they wouldn’t even consider letting me through the gate if he weren’t. Brian Caldwell is not exactly the ‘stop by to chat’ kind of dad.

When I enter the house, Maeve, my dad’s maid, immediately scurries over to me and takes my purse. “Um, would you like me to take that as well, or will you be wearing it?” she asks, gesturing to the flannel shirt I tied around my waist before heading here. I’ve never been into fashion. Comfort is pretty much the only thing I take into consideration when deciding what to wear. Plus, I wear scrubs about ninety percent of the time, so I don’t think much about clothes in general.

“I’ll keep it on, thanks.”

She nods and looks down at my white Converse sneakers before clearing her throat in an attempt to rein in her judgment of my outfit. “That’s grand,” she exclaims in her Irish accent. “They are in the main dining room. Follow me.”

I step forward, finding it amusing how formal my dad is. I know where the damn dining room is, and yet he insists on having someone escort me there. Then it hits me—did she just saythey?

As soon as I round the corner, a wave of regret washes over me. How could I allow myself to get roped into this lunch? I hear my dad’s polite laugh as he lifts a glass of champagne to his lips. Because it seems that when you’re rich, drinking lunch wine is acceptable. Next to him is a man around my dad's age, with a sharp jawline and deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Across from them is a woman with bright blonde hair pulled back into an elegant low bun. And next to her is a man who looks to be in his early twenties. He has light, slightly wavy chestnut hair and that air of aristocracy about him. Like you could dress him up in a burlap sack and still know he came from money. He’s classically handsome in a slim-fitted navy suit, the jacket draped elegantly on the back of his chair. I’m surprised Maeve hasn’t snatched it up yet.

I’m fuming now—talk the two of us, my ass.

My dad glances over, noticing me, and his eyes light up. “Emory, I’m so glad you could make it. You remember Darla and Matthew Tyler, right? This is their son, Ashton.”

Have I ever met these people before? Maybe. I'm pretty sure we've crossed paths at some function or other, although I usually find ways to get out of them, citing my hectic work schedule. My schedule has been fairly normal since I switched to days from nights a year ago, but there's no need for my dad to know that. Do I remember them, though? Not at all.

Their son, Ashton, looks a little familiar, but he didn't go to my high school. I assume he went to Baybridge Prep with the other trust-fund kids. Emberfield County is made up of three neighboring towns. Emberfield is in the center and is as quaint and idyllic as it comes. Sure, there are the giant mansions on the east side of town near the border of Baybridge, like my father’s house. But there are also many simple homes and craftsman cottages. Baybridge, with its beachfront properties and sprawling estates, is home to some of the country's wealthiest elite. They don't have a regular high school, so all the kids attend the private Baybridge Prep, which happens to be my alma mater's rival. Then there’s Rocky Falls to the west, which is a small city with a grittier, rougher edge. It's where all the bars and clubs are.

I realize that the only way out of this is through it. So, I push my frustration aside and put on my best fake smile.

“Of course, it’s so lovely to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Tyler. Nice to meet you, Ashton,” I say sweetly, playing my part.

Dad gets a better look at me and lets out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, I forgot to mention we would be having a sit-down lunch. She must have come from the beach or something,” he says as he looks back at the Tylers, who seem less amused.

I look down at my outfit and back up at Ashton, who can barely stifle his laugh.

Anger starts to build in my gut, and I can feel it about to boil over. No more nice, obedient Emory. This lunch isn't going to go the way my dad wants. I glare at Ashton, and he straightens up, clearing his throat.

“Nope. I wasn't at the beach. This is how I always dress, Dad. Not everyone wears a suit to lunch,” I say, sliding into the only other seat with a place setting, which happens to be on the other side of Ashton.

It's painfully obvious that this is a setup. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to calm down. I won't give my dad the satisfaction of sucking up to these people, but I also won't let my anger get the best of me and say something I'll regret. The last thing I need is a lecture from Dad about being rude in front of our guests.

The restof lunch is uneventful. The Tylers discuss their luxury hotel chain and their excitement about my dad taking them on as clients, given their previous cybersecurity company's mistakes that cost them a fortune. Ashton remains mostly quiet, only responding to my dad's questions about his college experience, business degree, and plans for the future. It turns out he went to Blackwell College like Nate. Most kids in the county end up going to one of two colleges if they choose to stay in state—Blackwell or Ellsmont University, which is where Allie and I went.

My dad continues his invasive line of questioning as if he’s conducting the most awkward interview ever. I can only imagine how it ends.I think you would be a great fit for my company, but I will only trust you if you routinely start fucking my daughter and eventually marry her.

I can’t do this.

Just when I think lunch is over and I can finally leave and hide under my covers until Allie comes home, Dad stands as if he’s the fucking president about to address the nation on the state of the union.

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