Page 57 of You'll Never Know
“You need to leave that girl alone,” Aunt Beth said on Wednesday, looking up from painting her nails at the table after he’d tried to call Taylor three times. “She clearly needs some space.”
Hehadgiven her space. Or rather she’d taken it. His phone bore witness, the screen awash in his one-way texts:
Where are you?
Why won’t you talk to me?
Did I do something?
Taylor, I need to see you.
What’s the matter?
Just write back already. Please.
By Friday, he’d had enough. That night, he showered, shaved, and put on his best outfit—a plaid button-up dress shirt and a dark pair of blue jeans—then headed for the door.
Aunt Beth stopped him. “You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”
“No,” he lied.
“Reed, don’t do it. Sometimes a woman has a reason for what she does, and right now, that girl doesn’t want to talk to you. Give her some time and she’ll come around.”
Something about the way the kitchen light framed Aunt Beth made her look soft in the moment, like she might actually be concerned. Like she might actually care about him. But Reed knew she didn’t. She never had. She’d only grudgingly taken him in out of obligation to his father. What she thought didn’t matter. He’d be gone soon enough anyway, and she’d never have to think about him again.
He turned and pushed through the door.
Thirty minutes later, he sat in front of the White ranch, which wasn’t reallya ranch at all. There weren’t any animals or crops or anything. But it was way out in the middle of nowhere and it was easy enough to imagine a herd of cows roaming over the twenty-acre spread, grazing on wild buffalo grass or a stretch of wheat growing somewhere on the property. Everyone called it a ranch, though, so that was how Reed thought about it—as a ranch. One he tried his best to avoid if Judge White was home.
When Judge White wasn’t around, he loved this place. Thebasement held a massive theater where he and Taylor would make out … and sometimes do more than that. They’d spend entire days lying in the sun on the front porch, drinking beer and screwing around when no one else was home. If they grew bored, they’d ride ATVs around the property or wander down to the pond near the cottonwoods and feed bread to the ducks. Everything about the house was great, but what Reed loved most about it was that it belonged to Taylor.
She was home now. He could see her red Toyota Camry sitting on the driveway next to her father’s Mercedes. The sight filled him with anxiety. Maybe Aunt Beth had a point. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. Taylor was definitely pissed off for some reason. He just didn’t know why. But whatever it was, she would get over it. They loved each other. They just needed to talk.
No time like the present,Reed thought as he got out of his car. By the time he reached the front door he felt tight and nervous, already sweating through his shirt. He rang the doorbell. A sound like a gong came from inside the house, followed by footsteps.
Hard footsteps.
Deep footsteps.
Judge White’s footsteps.
Shit.
He flung the door open and looked down at Reed like he was a fly skittering over glass—something to be squashed.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was hoping to talk to Taylor, sir.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Hasn’t she made that clear?”
Reed didn’t know what to say to that.
The judge scowled, the sunspots on his cheeks darkening. Reed felt frozen beneath the man’s glare, unable to move. Hate rose off the judge like steam. The man had always disliked Reed, but this was different. Reed could practically see the judge’s disgust coiling through the air as he spoke. “That you actually have the nerve to step foot onmy property after what you’ve done is—”
“Daddy, stop!” Taylor’s voice swam toward Reed like honey. She appeared next to her father and placed a hand on his arm. “Let me talk to him.”
Judge White’s gaze remained on Reed. “That’s not a good idea, punkin.”
