Deceived (38 page)

I faced Davis directly then. “I wanted to tell you in person. You know, aside from Pixie, you’re my best friend here.”

He pulled his lips to the side. “Ah. The old ‘let’s just be friends’ line.” The words were so full of truth. Only his face hinted at the flopping joke. “Can I buy you coffee?”

I locked my arm in his with my chin held high. Together, we left behind the school I barely knew.

My feet froze inside my favorite canvas sneakers, but I laughed and smiled every step of the way to Buzz Cup.

“So, Pixie’s okay? You’ve talked to her?”

“She’s not okay. She’s a nut, and all that sunshine is making her crazier. I’ll know more soon.” I peeked at him. I hadn’t told anyone this yet. “Dad’s sending me out to see her for spring break. I’ve never been to California, let alone any place like Los Angeles.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re terribly disappointed to be making that trip.”

“I can’t wait. Dad’s worried I won’t come back.”

“Prelaw, huh?”

“Yes, I’ll be living on the frozen side of the country next year.”

“Can I ask you something?” He stopped short of opening the door to the coffee shop.

Dad sat inside reading the paper.

“Austin disappeared when you did.”

Interesting. Somehow I’d become the poster child for campus security and urban folklore fodder. Nicholas had turned to smoke and disappeared. No one had prepped me on what to say about him. I doubted it was an oversight. In fact, since he’d announced his plans to study criminal justice at the school where I had earned an acceptance, he’d changed to a desk job with the Marshals. Dad said very little about him. His response to our dates and phone calls came down to sighs and eye-rolling, broken occasionally with comments about how young I was and how long forever could be.

He didn’t protest, though I knew he wanted to. He and his old friends, the Austins, had reunited. Not to mention, Nicholas was perfect. Everyone loved him. I supposed that was half the problem.

“He’s good. Enrolled at a new school this semester.” I followed Davis through the door into the warm, coffee-scented air.

“Are you two,” he fumbled for words, “like a long-distance thing now?”

“Yeah. Something like that.” Were there words for what we had? I doubted any would do it justice, so I didn’t try.

“Well, hey, the good news is I have you to myself a few more months.”

I smiled when Dad saw us enter arm in arm. His jaw dropped.

“Dad, this is Davis. Davis, Dad.” They shook hands and settled into a conversation like old friends.

He and Dad talked football while I returned a few texts from Nicholas. My ends were tied up, and Nicholas and I had plans for Skype and a movie when I got to my new room. I thanked Davis a hundred times for being happy and constant for me when I’d needed him. Even if he hadn’t known he was doing it, it had meant more than I could explain.

“Nice meeting you, Mr. Smith.” Davis extended his hand once more to my dad.

“Well, did you get to do everything you wanted?”

I looked around. “Yep. Ready.”

“Davis is a nice boy. Headed to play lacrosse at Yale next year. Wants to be a teacher. Nice safe occupation, teaching.” He nodded as we crossed the street to his rental car.

“He’s wonderful, but he’s not my Marshal.”

Dad rolled his eyes in a clear imitation of me. “Stop calling him that. He’s not
your
Marshal, and anyway, the FBI is way better.”

“Uh-huh.” I tapped the car roof, eager to get a shower and check my e-mail.

Dad unlocked the door and narrowed his eyes my way. “You know, if you hadn’t unpacked those boxes at Thanksgiving, I’d have a lot less work to do in Texas.”

“No worries. The Austins will be there to meet the movers when they get to your new place. The rest won’t keep you away for long.”

“Long enough.”

We slid into the cold car and shivered together for a minute.

“I haven’t lived in D.C. since … ”

“I know. Me either.” But it was time we both lived our lives. Dad loved D.C. Moving home was perfect. In five months, I’d be there, too.

He wrapped one strong hand around mine on the seat between us. “I love you, kid.” My phone buzzed, and Dad rolled his eyes, this time for real.

“Tell your dad he’s got about twenty-four Austins waiting for him.” –Nicholas.

“He’s dropping me off now.” –Me

“Can’t wait to see you.” –Nicholas

“I’m on my way.” –Me.

Dad pulled away from the curb and I smiled into the sun.

My real life was finally beginning.

Acknowledgments

Heartfelt thank-yous to: Jackie Mitchard, for pulling my story from the pile and giving it life. My agent and friend, Dawn Dowdle, who believes in me. Kristin Ostby, living proof that this industry really is about books, not numbers. My beta readers, critique partner, and friends who sacrificed their precious time to read my troubled pages: Nikki Brandyberry, you are wonderful wrapped in awesome. Jennifer Anderson, my fellow “Creeker” and partner in literary shenanigans, Valerie Haight, my cosmic soul sister and Wendy Delfosse, my sweet friend. Also, an enormous, face-to-the-floor, thank-you to Matt Petrunak, Brittany Blair, Cynthia Preston, and the amazing KSU students who brought my story to life in the most incredible book trailer ever made. Finally, most importantly: Massive adoration to Bryan, my husband, sidekick, utter enabler and BFF who has never doubted for one second that I can change the world. Silly man.

Copyright © 2013 by Julie Anne Lindsey.

All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

Published by Merit Press

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

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Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

www.meritpressbooks.com

eISBN 10: 1-4405-6390-X

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6390-4

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Many of the designations used by manufacturers and sellers to distinguish their product are claimed as trademarks. Where those designations appear in this book and F+W Media was aware of a trademark claim, the designations have been printed with initial capital letters.

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