Relentless(45)

“Can I ask you something else?” he says, and something about the way his voice goes a little too high on the last word makes me think he’s nervous about this question.

“Go ahead.”

“This guy that you were with before me, what was his name again?”

“I never told you his name.”

“Right. Well, does he live in Raleigh?”

I pause as I try to figure out where this is going. Does he want to know if there’s a chance we may run into Chris or does he want to track him down and try to find out my secret from him? Or, maybe, he thinks Chris is the one who broke my heart and he wants to beat the shit out of him. I’m going to assume it’s the first one. That’s the safest conclusion to jump to.

“We’re not going to run into him. He left Raleigh right after we broke up last year.”

“Did you break up with him?”

He’s fishing. He’s asked similar, but more vague, questions over the past few weeks, but they’ve been ambiguous enough for me to dodge them or answer them without giving too much away. For instance, last week he asked if I had ever been cheated on. A few days before that he asked how many guys I’ve had sex with. When I told him I’ve only had sex with one other guy, he got a glimmer of hope in his eye. He seemed to be pleased to know that I’m practically virginal and to have me just a little more figured out.

“Yes, I broke up with him.”

“This is the same guy who was your first?”

“Why are you asking these questions all of a sudden?”

“I just feel like I should know these things before we get to your ‘hood. I’m not a Raleigh guy. I grew up in and around Carolina Beach before my parents moved to Wilmington five years ago when I went to Duke. I don’t have a lot of friends in Raleigh. I just want to make sure I’m not caught by surprise.”

He thinks we’re going to run into someone, not just Chris, who may give him a hard time about being with me. Maybe he even thinks Jackie’s going to give him a hard time. He may be right about that. When Chris and I broke the news about our relationship to Jackie shortly after my eighteenth birthday, she wasn’t surprised—she was ecstatic. Something tells me she won’t be so ecstatic to see me with Adam.

“Look. When we go to my foster mother’s house tomorrow, you’re going to have to stay in the truck. I really wish I could introduce you to her, but I just don’t think it’s the right time.”

“Really?”

“Really. She doesn’t know I dropped out. She doesn’t know what happened after I dropped out. And she doesn’t know about you. She’s very protective and opinionated. I have a lot to talk about with her tomorrow. I want to ease her into everything that’s happened. I don’t want her to dislike you just because she’s pissed at me.”

He raises his eyebrows as he keeps his eyes on the road stretched out before us like a silver sword delivering us into the belly of the beast. He’s not pleased with my explanation of why he can’t meet Jackie. But this is only because he doesn’t understand that I’m saving him the grief of too much information. The less he knows about who Jackie is, the less he knows about who Chris is. The less Adam knows about Chris, the less chance he’ll have of being intimidated by the fact that not only is Chris Knight my ex, but I’m the inspiration for so many of the Chris Knight songs he loves.

I take a deep breath and prepare myself to make the biggest mistake I’ve made in a very long time. “Okay. How about this? When we get home tomorrow I’ll tell you everything—but not until then. I just want to enjoy my birthday.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t. I want to.” Just speaking these words aloud dials up the anxiety inside me and I draw in another deep breath. “I need to.”

He reaches across the console and grabs my hand. “I’m ready when you are.”





Chapter Seventeen

Relentless Revelations

WE WALK INTO NORTHSTAR BANK and I instantly remember it. I remember the lobby with the speckled brown tile, the high ceiling, and the enormous wood and glass chandelier. I remember the offices to my left where my mom brought me once when I was six or seven. Did she bring me with her when she set up the trust account?

I walk through the doorway on my left into another small reception area and the receptionist looks up from her computer screen with her eyebrows raised and lips pursed as if my mere presence annoys her.

“Can I help you?” she finally says.

I try not to roll my eyes as I say, “I’m here to see Henry Owens.”