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  “You’re the only person who never judged me. I didn’t want you to see me the way everyone else does.”

  “You really don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter what you did. All that matters is I opened up to you and when I asked you to do the same, you didn’t. You chose not to.”

  She still didn’t know exactly what I’d done, that was clear. But I’d lied. I was continuing to hide something from her. “I can tell you now. I’m ready. You deserve to hear it from me,” I said, the words coming out like hands grasping at a ladder pulled out from under me.

  “It’s too late. Nothing could change how I felt about you, except knowing you didn’t feel enough about us to tell me.”

  I made myself exhale. Made words come. “It was this one night my freshman year…” I started.

  “No,” she said, putting a hand up, “You should have told me because you wanted to, not like this.”

  “Please,” I begged, an icy tightness radiating. “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

  “This is probably for the best anyway,” she said, starting to walk away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To class,” she said, leaving me with two cups of now cold coffee.

  I threw them in the snow and stayed behind her all the way to campus. She didn’t turn around and I didn’t call out. I followed far behind her like a stranger, like someone she hadn’t opened up to, like someone who hadn’t kissed her, made love to her, like she was a dream.

  When we got to class we would sit on opposite sides of the room pretending we had no ties to each other anymore. That hurt more than anything.

  More even, than her finally finding out the truth.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Kate

  I wanted a drink. I needed to go to a bar and tell a bartender my troubles while I sucked down Riesling and he didn’t judge me.

  Mostly because I was confused, because I was a hypocrite, because I’d let Carter get to me, because I’d broken rule number two so epically it had broken my heart.

  Unfortunately, I had to nurse my wounds with Professor Parker’s office hours instead.

  “Everything okay?” he asked as I walked in for our weekly advisory meeting.

  Clearly, whatever hiding I’d done the past few weeks hadn’t prepared me to conceal true emotion. I wasn’t even supposed to feel true emotion.

  Stupid rule number two.

  “Perfect, why?” I replied, sitting down quickly.

  Everything should have been. Carter was now out of my life. He never should have been in it. So that was good, right?

  Right?

  He sat back. “I,” he paused, “I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” He peered over his glasses.

  Shit. Tell him what? I had so many lies in my wake I couldn’t even figure out which one he was upset about my having told.

  What if it was the worst one? The one I couldn’t even bring myself to tell Carter.

  The wooziness of possibly being busted encased me in a sweaty chill. Maybe Professor Parker had studied my file more closely and seen it was bullshit. Maybe all of this would fall apart and I would end up at a bar today.

  I imagined it. This was too much for even the most skilled bartender to handle.

  “Someone else did, though,” he said, passing me a piece of Hudson University letterhead. “Read.”

  I took it into my clammy hands. Fuck me. I was busted.

  Dear Miss Townsend,

  We are pleased to inform you that you have been awarded an academic scholarship for your sophomore term and, pending continued academic excellence, this award will continue annually through graduation. With this award your tuition, room and board will be paid in full…

  There was more, but I stopped. My chest tightened, it was hard to swallow. I wasn’t busted for my lie. I was rewarded with the reason I’d been living it in the first place.

  Somehow, though, it didn’t feel like a reward.

  I stared at the paper. I’d done it. I’d fooled everyone. I would be able to stay for another year.

  With Carter’s deception so fresh in my mind, with mine being something I would have to continue, it didn’t seem like such a success anymore. I mean, I wanted to be here, to graduate, but could I keep pretending for what the foreseeable future had converted into another year?

  “I helped to fast-track you,” he said, smiling. “Considering the situation with your parents, it seemed like the right thing to do. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way.”

  I managed to look up from the paper. “That wasn’t in my file.”

  “This campus isn’t all that large.”

  I guess everyone did know everything about each other here, except, of course, me when it came to what Carter had done.

  “You’re welcome,” he added when I hadn’t responded.

  “Sorry.” I shook my head, forcing myself to wake up. “Thank you, that was so nice.” What else could I say?

  “I’m pretty sure that’s the first time anyone has ever called me nice, but I felt like I should help. Please don’t make me regret my decision to endorse you.”

  I wondered how I’d be able to when I wasn’t sure how I could stop regretting my own decisions, even the ones I was making here.

  “Go celebrate,” he said, waving me out of his office.

  I walked out into the hallway, still holding the letter, my guilt making it hard to even see straight. Not only for this development and yet another person believing my dead parent lie, but because of Carter.

  I sat on a bench in the atrium, fighting lightheadedness.

  What had I been expecting—an actual relationship? People lied to each other, even worse to themselves. Why should I have expected I deserved someone better than David?

  Why should I have believed I deserved better when I slept with David and he was married and had a family?

  Why should I have believed telling a part of my own secrets would be enough to make someone else open up to me?

  My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  Veronica.

  I answered without thinking, because if I would have I might not have answered.

  “I started packing for this weekend,” she said, “and I realized I have no idea how your sister dresses.”

  I laughed, thankful to have the distraction of talking to her. Of course that would be her biggest worry. “You’re you,” I said, “You’re just also my sister.”

  “Which means what? Are we talking jeans, or leather skirts, or fitted pants?”

  “Whatever makes you most comfortable,” I said. I could hear the city behind her, people buzzing, taxis beeping, heels clicking, buses groaning, street vendors yelling. I pushed down my nostalgia at the sounds of what had been my home for ten years. The phone was like a conch shell reminding me of city life, of a time where everything might have felt closed off and decided, but at least it was epically less confusing.

  At least I knew where I stood with David, where I stood with everything.

  “You are not making this easy, sis,” she said.

  “Fine, jeans.”

  “That’s one thing I miss about college,” she replied, “casual Friday every day.”

  We hung up and I headed back to my dorm, slowly walking the snow-covered campus, trying to figure out if I could actually go through with staying here and lying for another year.

  If a life started on a lie, even if it resulted in a better life, would it ever feel okay?

  When I got back to the dorm, I took a deep breath and stared at the closed door of my room, gathering my courage. There was no more avoiding telling Dawn about Veronica’s visit. If she was packing, she was coming.

  Dawn would be pissed no matter when I told her. Besides, I figured that waiting until the day Veronica arrived would make her seem even more suspect than she already would.

  Veronica looked her age. It didn’t make sense for someone who was actually almost thirty to stay in a dorm room with their nineteen-year-old sister.
It was the kind of thing that was sure to make people wonder. I couldn’t afford to have anyone wonder about anything.

  Especially now that I had next year’s scholarship literally in hand.

  I might not be sure if I could swallow another year of lies, but I sure as hell didn’t want to be busted for them, either.

  It would be weird enough having my “sister,” who I didn’t remotely resemble, around. Veronica was dark in all the ways I was light. Her hair was naturally as black as Dawn’s colored hair. Shiny locks so dark, eyes so smoky and deep it would probably make Dawn black with envy when she met Veronica.

  Dawn had her desk lamp on when I entered. Wind glittered snow against the window. She was lying on her bed reading with her feet crossed behind her like an insect, the image made even more vivid with her black and hot pink checkered leggings.

  She nodded, still reading, as I sat down on my bed. Our silence had become easier, almost like what I imagined real siblings felt. Not the fake one I would have to manufacture Veronica into.

  “My sister’s coming to visit,” I said quickly, picking up a book from my nightstand in case I had to defend myself.

  She was free of makeup again. I guess she was comfortable enough around me to stop wearing her mask. Apparently I didn’t feel the same.

  But maybe that was because the one person I’d shared some truth with ended up proving that truth was seriously overrated.

  “I didn’t know you had a sister,” she said, sitting up, looking at me differently. The way someone does when they are given another little piece to put together the puzzle of who you are—bringing you into sharper focus.

  The thing was, with Dawn, with everyone but Carter, they were getting pieces of Kate-take-two. I wondered if some of the long stares I got from Dawn were because she realized some of the pieces of my puzzle didn’t fit.

  “Yeah,” I said, sitting up straighter, “she’s a lot older so I don’t really think of her as a sister, almost like a mom.” I swallowed. I hoped Dawn wouldn’t share that tidbit with Veronica. She already felt strange about how much younger I looked than she did.

  Saying I felt like she was my mother—not that I did, but Kate from college-take-two would—might be the nail in our friendship coffin.

  “Oh,” Dawn said softly, “Did she like raise you after your parents died or something?”

  I quieted a laugh, Veronica would love that scenario. “No,” I said, the words like marbles in my mouth, “she’s just so much older than me.”

  “What is she, like thirty?”

  I understood people Dawn’s age believed thirty was ancient. They didn’t realize that even though the calendar ticked by you didn’t feel ancient, you were simply trying your best to stay one step behind the age on your driver’s license.

  Always thinking to yourself, at least I’m only whatever, until you got too old to pretend.

  “Yeah,” I said. “She’s staying here, in our room. I hope that’s okay.” The words came out in one long, quick sentence.

  There was a suspicious lilt to her lips, a squint to her eyes.

  “I know it’s a little weird,” I responded, trying to stop wherever her mind was going.

  “Just remember my rules apply to her.”

  “She’s too old to bring any of the guys from campus back to the room,” I said, hating myself. How could I say that?

  I mean, I had been with someone. Veronica was coming here to have a real college experience and she would want to be, too. Veronica wanted that on a normal day.

  “Men do it all the time,” she said, looking back at her book. “Speaking of,” she said, her mouth puckered as if she’d eaten seventeen lemons. “My dad will be here, too. We can have a family reunion.”

  Excellent, the guy she was yelling at like he was her punching bag through the phone—the lawyer asshole who slept with other women even though he was married and had a family.

  Like David.

  I reached into my bag and shoved the scholarship letter in my desk. I would deal with that later, one overwhelming issue at a time.

  “What’s that?” Dawn asked.

  “Scholarship paperwork for next year,” I said, settling back on my bed.

  She watched me for a moment. “The only good thing about my dad is his money.”

  “Maybe he could pay for a hotel room for my sister,” I joked, even though I couldn’t help but hold on to that fleeting wish.

  “I’d rather not tempt him,” she grimaced, “if that’s okay.”

  If only there was a way to keep Veronica away from temptation. I wondered how long it would take for hers to become mine.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Carter

  Instead of going to my classes on Thursday, I got in my Jeep and drove up the snowy thruway to the University of Albany. The day was gray, the ground covered in white. If my father had taught me anything it was that money can buy everything, even the location of someone who probably hoped never to be found.

  Even the whereabouts of someone whose departure your father had basically paid for.

  It was scary how easy it was to find Jeanie. I called my father’s lawyer and asked if he knew of any private investigators. I had a name in minutes and Jeanie’s address in two days. It’s not like she was in the witness protection program, but it still seemed insanely wrong to me. I found her simply because I had the money.

  I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, especially not Tristan. I let myself believe it was because I was trying to keep her identity a secret, rather than the fear I would chicken out.

  My mind wandered as I drove. I hadn’t seen Jeanie since she left three years ago. I probably should have let her be, but after what happened with Kate, I needed to see her. She needed to know I was sorry.

  It was the only thing that might allow me to finally leave what I’d done, what I hadn’t done, behind.

  Clearly, I had always been sorry, but that wasn’t enough.

  It definitely wasn’t enough if I ever wanted to be with someone again—if I ever wanted to try to be with Kate again.

  I turned to the empty passenger seat. It chilled me as if I’d had the window rolled down and biting cold air was thrashing through the car. I’d gotten used to Kate there. Heaviness thrust my stomach down as I pictured her affectionate smile. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever see it again.

  I reached Albany at noon. The sun would have been high in the sky if it had been a summer day. I had two addresses for Jeanie: her campus apartment and the diner where she worked.

  I headed to the diner first. It was a place right off the interstate with a neon sign illuminated even during the day. I parked the car and glanced at the tall windows. They were steamed up, but I could tell the place was packed for lunch. I was glad. Apologizing to Jeanie with at least fifty people as witnesses was what she deserved.

  I walked inside, the door dinging, and took one of the empty seats at the counter. It was one of those places fabricated to appear vintage, frozen in time at 1950-something. It still had a soda fountain menu hanging behind the counter and a jukebox playing the kind of music you sock-hopped to. The waitresses wore pink wrap dresses with black triangle aprons and name tags.

  Instead of picking up the menu on my place setting I continued to search the restaurant. It took me a minute, but I finally found Jeanie. She stood at the end of the counter wiping a spill. She looked different, thinner, and her hair was boy-short styled for a girl, but it was definitely her.

  She walked over when she noticed me with my hands folded on top of my menu. Her nametag said Jean, but it was her.

  “Can I get you some coffee while you’re deciding?” she asked, like I was any other customer.

  Why wouldn’t she think I was? I wasn’t wearing a name tag. It had been three years. Why would she recognize me at all? Even if she kind of did, she definitely wouldn’t expect me to be here.

  I’d have to be ridiculous to be here.

  “Sure, coffee’s fine,” I said,
trying to figure out how to start, how to come out and say what I’d driven an hour to say.

  Hey how have you been? I’m one of the assholes from the night three years ago who forced you to transfer here.

  She poured my coffee.

  I took a deep breath and jumped. “I’m actually here to see you.”

  She looked me, waited a beat. “Why?”

  “I’m Carter Blackwood.” Even if she didn’t recognize me she would definitely recognize my name.

  Her skin went as pale as the creamer sitting next to my coffee.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her body so tight, so straight, it appeared like it might crack. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, because she seemed worried. Not like I had a right to tell her how to feel about anything. “I just wanted to talk to you,” I continued, speaking fast before she could walk away.

  “You ever hear of a phone?” she asked, holding tight to the coffee thermos.

  “I needed to see to you in person,” I said, leaning my hands against the counter, trying to keep myself still. Afraid if I moved too much she might run away. Afraid if I didn’t hold on I would fall.

  “For you or for me?” she huffed.

  I didn’t respond. Her question only had one answer and it was the wrong one.

  “You should leave.” She stepped back from me.

  “I just came to apologize. To tell you how sorry I am. I never got a chance to.”

  “So, you waited three years?” she laughed angrily. “What changed?”

  “Nothing,” I said. Though, I had, everything had. I needed to be a better person for Kate. But considering how much I was upsetting Jeanie, I didn’t feel like one.

  “I have a new life here. I am going to graduate this semester. Why would you do this now?”

  “I wanted you to know,” I said. “You deserve it,” I added, but there was no doubt I was being selfish. I wasn’t here for her. I was here for me.

  I was here for Kate.

  I felt vile, my stomach as nauseous as it had ever been. My throat was dry. I tried to make myself swallow and it burned like fire. “I’m sorry,” I said, finally saying the words I’d come here to say, but I was saying them for a different reason. I was apologizing for even being here. It didn’t matter. She deserved to hear those words again and again, anyway.