Mom followed me onto the porch, her face flushed red. “If you leave now, don’t bother coming back.”
I looked at her for a long second. “That was the first generous thing you’ve said all weekend.”
Then I left.
In my car, I sat for five minutes, gripping the steering wheel. I did not cry. I did not scream. I made one phone call.
One hour later, my phone rang. Madison.
When I answered, she was sobbing.
“Emily,” she choked. “Who did you call? Mom just saw him and—oh my god, she’s—”
The call filled with shouting.
Then it cut off.
PART 2
I stared at my phone as the screen faded back to black.
For three seconds, I thought about calling Madison back. Then I remembered her smirk from the kitchen island, the way she had watched me scrub and sweat like I was furniture that had somehow learned to breathe.
Instead, I started my car.
The man I had called was Victor Hale.
He was not a gangster, a police officer, or some mysterious former lover. He was my boss.
Read more on the next page >>
To see the complete cooking instructions, go to the next page or click the Open (>) button and don't forget to SHARE it with your friends on Facebook.
