Carl faced me, his expression blank. “I’m sorry?”
“You weren’t very nice to Rider,” I repeated. “You treated him like he was...a suspect at a crime scene.”
Rosa’s lips parted.
He straightened as his eyes widened. “Mallory—”
“Rider doesn’t live like we do,” I said, eyes and throat burning. “His foster mom isn’t a doctor and he doesn’t think he can afford college. None of that makes him...a bad person.”
“We didn’t say he was a bad person.” Rosa stepped around Carl, expression earnest. “And if we gave the impression—”
“You did.” I spoke directly to Carl, my voice shaking. “You kept questioning him and no matter...how he answered, it wasn’t enough.”
Wrinkles formed around his eyes. “If you want to talk about Rider, let’s talk about the fact that he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
“He did have one. They broke up.”
“Convenient,” Carl murmured.
“See!” I all but threw up my hands. “You think...that’s convenient. As if I’ve lied about it, or Rider has. I want him to be a part of my life...of our life. And I was so excited about tonight—about you all finally meeting him.” My lower lip trembled. “He...he saved my life many times and I thought... I thought you would respect him for that.”
“Mallory,” Carl said.
Turning around, I did something I’d never done before. I ignored Carl as I climbed the steps. I was done with the conversation.
Chapter 21
The desk lamp in the library had been left on, casting the space in soft yellow light. It smelled faintly of peaches in the room. I drifted along the bookshelves, running my fingers over their spines. I stopped at the center bookcase and my hand fell to my side. Somehow I’d found myself in our home library that morning, after a crappy night’s sleep following an even crappier dinner.
I’d woken early and roamed the house while Carl and Rosa slept, restless and unable to go back to bed. Some of that had to do with seeing Rider and Ainsley later. Some had to do with learning Rider and Paige weren’t together.
Ainsley had offered up her usual brand of wisdom when I’d filled her in on the dinner disaster. She said Carl’s reaction was normal, that when she first brought Todd home she was convinced her father was going to toss him out the front door.
I wasn’t quite so sure that was the case.
Then she focused on the Paige and Rider drama, convinced the breakup meant something for me. I couldn’t even allow my head to go there, because it didn’t know what to do with all of that.
I thought about the book that Rider used to read to me when we were little—a story that always made me cry but also filled me with hope that one day we’d be real, too, that we’d be loved.
Because that was how it felt growing up. Like Rider and I weren’t real. No one thought about us or worried. We were forgotten, left behind to virtually fend for ourselves.
Now I had two people who thought about me, who fended for me and who worried. I should be grateful for that, as Rider had reminded me last night, but right now I just felt mad.
Carl and Rosa knew all about Rider, all about everything he’d done for me growing up. I’d thought that would’ve put Rider in a good place with Carl, but he’d been skeptical and distrustful. Judging.
And I still couldn’t believe I’d said what I said to Carl. Even now, my pulse kicked up and I sort of felt sick. I knew Carl was upset with me, most likely even mad for saying what I said. I wanted to...I wanted to be perfect for him—for them, and I wasn’t perfect last night.
I’d avoided both of them last night and that was the game plan for today.
Sighing, I moved along the bookcases. The two center shelves were full of framed photos, starting with a happy-looking baby and moving all the way up to a beautiful, bright teenage girl with long dark hair and shining brown eyes.
I stared at the pictures of Marquette, and I couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that she was no longer here. And it wasn’t fair that the kid Rosa worked on would never walk again. All the terrible things that Rider witnessed, experienced, hadn’t been fair. It wasn’t fair that I’d—
Closing my eyes, I shut the path of thoughts off. If I went there now, in my head, I’d be a mess. There’d be things I didn’t want to think about.
When I reopened my eyes, Marquette stared back at me in a picture taken a few months before her death. She was at the beach, wearing a pretty black two-piece bikini that I doubted I’d ever have the confidence to pull off. Hot pink sunglasses shielded her eyes, and her smile was huge. White sand glimmered under her feet, and the ocean sparkled behind her.
Marquette had a boyfriend, one she had started dating during her junior year. I didn’t know his name, only that he’d existed from the bits and pieces of conversations I’d picked up over the years. She also had a lot of friends. Popular. Smart. In all of her pictures, she looked like someone who was nice. Someone like Keira.
I thought about the boy who would never walk again. What was his life like? It didn’t matter, I quickly realized, if he was unkind and not well liked or if he was the most popular boy at school. It wasn’t fair.
Stepping back from the pictures, I wondered something I’d thought about a million times. And it was wrong, such a horrible thing to consider, but I couldn’t help it. If Marquette was still alive today, would I be where I was? Would Carl and Rosa still have fought to bring me into their home? Given me all the opportunities that so many others had missed out on?