Page 14 of Best of Me

I lace my fingers together and place them in my lap to keep from fidgeting. Or maybe it’s to keep from smacking him for implying that I’m somehow up to no good or have nefarious intentions. “As I mentioned, I’m here for work. Bay Ridge Elementary offered me a job. It’s not like I knew you were here.”

He sneers. “You sure about that?”

“Absolutely positive.” I use the same voice I do in the classroom when a student is acting unruly: calm and placating.

He grunts again. Apparently, while the rest of the world is moving forward in some way or another, Duke Kincaid has regressed to a caveman.

“You got something you wanna say, Duke?”

He cracks his knuckles, working his jaw back and forth. “Yeah, I do. I think it’s bullshit you ran away after high school. Your sister missed the hell out of you, and you pretty much abandoned her to y’all’s crazy-ass mother. She spent nights on end crying over missing you, and you couldn’t even be bothered to fucking call or text. And don’t get me started on her funeral. What kind of heartless bitch skips her own twin’s funeral?”

My cheeks are damp with tears by the time he’s finished. I shake my head, sadness engulfing me. “You have no idea, do you?” He couldn’t, not if he thinks I ran away from my family out of selfishness. Hell no, I ran out of self-preservation. By the end of our senior year, Nancy’s outbursts were getting progressively worse. I almost missed our high school graduation ceremony because she went ballistic the morning of when she found my acceptance letter from Knight U…

I walk into my bedroom, shocked to find it in utter disarray, like a tornado had torn through. Only the tornado has a name: Nancy. She stands in the center of the mess, seething, with papers clutched in her grasp.

“What are you—” I don’t even get a chance to finish the question before her closed fist connects with my cheek.Holy crap, she just hit me. Like honest to God hit me. She’s slapped me plenty of times over the years, but this…this is new territory.

“You stupid little bitch. You think you’re so special because you got accepted to college? Your sister got accepted into twenty! She has pick of the litter, and you have what? One? One that you can’t even attend, because over my dead body are we paying for it.”

“I got a full ride,” I whisper, immediately regretting it when she strikes me again. My cheek and jaw throb, but I refuse to give her an outward reaction.

“For what? What could you have possibly done to earn a scholarship? You’re dumb as a box of rocks, unlike your sister, who is Valedictorian. You’re useless, a waste of space.”

That altercation ended with me having to cake on five layers of foundation and concealer to cover my bruised cheekbone. She also broke two of my fingers, but she didn’t break my spirit.

“No idea about what?” Duke’s cold voice brings me out of my memories and back to the here and now.

“She always was good at hiding it,” I mutter to myself. Why is it that the crazies of this world are also the cleverest? They’re crafty and manipulative and charming when they need to hide their monstrous nature from the rest of the world. And to outsiders, Nancy Parsons was the most charming of all. My whole life she used her silver tongue to hide her wrongdoings. For almost eighteen years, she had me convinced I was so stupid that no one could ever love me, all the while, convincing the rest of the world that I was simply a troubled loner who preferred keeping to herself.

“Hiding what?” Duke demands, his temper rising. “Enough of this cloak and dagger bullshit. If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

My own anger threatens to burst forth and I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to tamp it down. “Nothing. Forget it.” I stand from the bench, my body shaking with a strange mixture of embarrassment, anger, and more than anything else, sadness. “This was obviously a mistake. I’ll…yeah, I’ll just go. It was…have a nice life, Duke.”

I make it to the sidewalk before the first tear falls. I wipe it away and turn back to face him. There’s something I need to say. “Hey, Duke?” He looks my way, his features shockingly blank. “I love my sister very much, and I miss her every day.”

Satisfied with having the last word, I hightail it to my car and back to the safety of the four walls of my little cottage.

It’s been a week since my run-in with Duke and, much to my dismay, he’s still at the forefront of my mind. I should be focusing on my lesson plans and the fast-approaching school year. But nope, I’m too busy replaying our conversation from last weekend, picking it apart, dissecting every single word.

Jenny’s been after me to talk about it, too, after the way I rushed out of the Black Sheep like the Hounds of Hell were nipping at my heels. I’ve managed to put her off, but my luck ran out this morning when she called and said she was on her way, Natalie in tow. I mean, I haven’t even talked to Ashley about what happened—how can I, when I’m still trying to process it?

Maybe talking it out with someone who knows Duke as the man he is now will help; however, not going to Ash first feels like a betrayal of our friendship.Maybe she’ll be down for a video chat when the girls arrive?I hope so, because if nothing else, it’ll be nice having her in my corner in case this turns into the Spanish Inquisition. Especially seeing as I have no clue as to what Duke may have told Jenny and Nate about me and how we know each other.What if he said something to turn them against me?

Before I can deal with any of that, I need coffee, and a lot of it. Luckily, my Black Rifle Coffee Company order arrived yesterday—their Murdered Out roast gives me life. As it brews, the scent of the dark Colombian beans permeates the air, making my mouth water and my worries about Jenny’s visit wane.

Once the carafe is full, I pour myself a mug, adding a generous splash of heavy cream. One sip in and I’m already feeling more confident about today; with this brew running through my veins, I can handle anything. On sip two, the sound of the doorbell echoes back to the kitchen, and my nerves return full force.So much for being able to handle anything.

I trudge to the front door, swinging it open to reveal two grinning blondes. “I brought chocolate croissants,” Natalie says as she passes me.

Jenny follows after her. “I brought myself. But I gave her the recipe for the croissants, so they’re from me, too.”

I can’t help the giggle that slips out. These two are the definition of squad goals.

“Sounds good to me. I just made a pot of coffee.”

Jenny does a little shimmy. “Now you’re speaking my language, girl.”

I tell the girls to get comfy while I plate up the baked goods and pour our coffee. I grab a tray and load it down, adding a little dish of cream and bowl of sugar. “I hope y’all don’t want some fancy flavored creamer,” I say as I lower the platter down onto my coffee table.

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