Page 121 of Come Back to Me

A hissed breath escapes Dr. Enfield. “If you’re not going to tell us the truth, James, then my offer is off the table.”

Amy Nygard?

Paulie’s sister?

Fuck.

Bennett frowns. “Who is this girl?”

“She’s a scholarship student here. Amy’s also the child James was suspended for bullying last year. Hence my disbelief.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, James, and want to further persecute Ms?—”

“She’s my supplier,” James insists.

“I don’t believe you.” Enfield folds her arms across her chest. “You went from bullying her to accepting drugs from her to sell?”

“The whole school knows the faculty is lenient on the scholarship kids.” He sneers at her. “She’s scum. Her family are from an MC! Where do you think she got the drugs from?”

“Unless you have evidence of this, then your expulsion stands.”

Her declaration triggers the abrupt end to our meeting.

James confirms his lack of proof by swiping his hands over the principal’s desk, razing everything—papers, ornaments, and her computer—to the floor.

Mr. Bennett tries to stop him and earns himself a punch to the face for his pains.

And it’s to my delight that the kid leaves the school in cuffs.

Better still that Tee sits up front with me so Marty’s in the back with the little shit.

If Fairweather only spends an hour in custody, the prick deserves it for trying to throw Paulie’s baby sister under the bus. As for the rest, I know the tension headache has only just begun…

Tee

“What are you staring at?” the kid who was shoved into the back seat a few minutes ago snaps, glowering at me when I study him with interest.

The Korhonens have been Pigeon Creek’s version of the Real Housewives since forever, but until Clyde, they were always magnanimous.

We needed a fire truck? They’d provide one.

A new library? The Korhonens were the first to donate.

So, in the nineties, when Our Lady of Sorrows started permitting their bratty students to visit the town on the weekends once they hit sophomore year, the locals were quick to notice the difference between regular rich folk and Korhonens.

A long-standing grudge commenced shortly after.

Honestly, some of them make Clyde seemnice.

(And he’s a murderer.)

“Not staring—studying. Just wondering what heinous crimes you committed.”

“Don’t talk to him, please, Tee,” Cody grumbles, drawing my attention.

Cody’s wearing the day’s many stresses on his face—he looks like he could take a fifteen-hour nap and still come out exhausted.

Forcing myself to be indifferent, I nod and allow the rest of the journey to take place in silence.

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