Page 90 of The Fake
“You don’t understand. I can—”
“You can what?” He steps closer. “Say it’s yours? Take the fall?”
“Exactly.”
“And do you really think they’re going to believe her boyfriend put a textbook filled with drugs in her backpack and she had no idea about it?”
“That’s not what happened.”
Shaw raises both eyebrows waiting for an explanation.
“It doesn’t matter if they believe me or not. I have to try.”
“Alright, let’s say they do. What then? You’ll be out on your ass and I’d bet my left nut that Chloe will be too. Guilty by association… well, and possession.”
I flex my jaw as I admit to myself that he might be right. But there has to be something I can do. Toss me out, fine. I’ll gladly take whatever punishment they want to throw at me if it means keeping her safe from my dumb mistakes.
“Listen to me, man. You love her? You care about her?”
I give him a hard look, but he doesn’t relent.
“Fuck, of course I do.”
“Then the best thing you can do for Chloe is to go home. You’ve already done enough damage.”
31
Nathan
I jog upthree flights of stairs to get to Chloe’s floor. An hour run did shit to clear my head. I can’t quit replaying Shaw’s words in my head.You’ve already done enough damage.
He’s right. I’ve done damage. I’ve made mistakes. More than I can count. I’ve repeatedly hurt the people I care about. I can’t take any of it back, but I can apologize, come clean, and hope like hell it’s enough.
Sydney opens the door wide and lets me in. Emily is on the couch and the TV is on. Chloe is nowhere in sight, but the door to her room is closed and light filters out from underneath.
“How is she?” I ask. Stalling and maybe hoping for some reassurance.
“Sad, mostly. I think,” Sydney says quietly.
I nod. Nope, no reassurance there.
I texted Chloe to let her know I was coming. I knew she wouldn’t respond, but I didn’t want to ambush her. I knock on her door once and then open it a crack. “Chloe?”
She makes a sound that’s not quite a greeting and I step inside and close the door behind me. Her hair is wet and her face clean of makeup giving me a good look at her red and puffy eyes. She’s running a brush through her hair while sitting on the bed, unshed tears threatening to spill over.
“Princess.” I rush to her and wrap my arms around her, pull her into me and breathe in the smell of her shampoo and just her — summertime even on the darkest and coldest day. “I’m so sorry.”
Her shoulders shake and she cries into my t-shirt. Silent sobs that prove Shaw was right. The proof of my damage is in my arms.
Eventually her tears quiet and she sniffles. “Why?”
When I don’t answer, she pulls away and looks up at me. “I’ve been replaying it over and over and I still don’t understand.”
“I’m so sorry.” It’s all I can manage. No idea where to start or what to say and knowing there’s likely not an explanation she’s going to like.
She wipes under her eyes. “Are you using?”
“No. Hell no.” I’d like to be offended she’d think that, but I can’t really blame her. I take a deep breath. “I worked for Frank, Chloe. For almost two years, I sold for him. It’s how I sent money back to my family. I was desperate and reckless. Coach caught me with drugs in my locker right before the school year started and I stopped. I haven’t dealt at all since you’ve known me, and I didn’t know Frank gave you the book until today when he texted me. I would never knowingly put you in a position like that.”
