Page 48 of The Promises We Were Never Meant To Keep

“I’m sorry.”

Her lips curl in a smile. It’s soft and kind. It’s the smile Andy tells me Shyanne is capable of. The smile I’ve never seen.

She blows a breath from between puffy cheeks. “I know. I know you didn’t steal him from me. I get it. I just felt—I needed someone to be mad at and Holt’s just way too hot to stay pissed at, you know? It was easier to blame the girl.”

“I hope you don’t think the same about Kevin.” I slide my bum onto the counter, swinging my legs. “It takes two to betray someone.”

Her eyes dip into the sink. “I hate that I still love Jenna.”

She starts to cry again.

I slide from the counter and wrap her up in my arms. This time, there’s no resistance at all.

“Want to get out of here?”

Shyanne looks at me with a frown. But beyond the frown, there’s too much hope to ignore. “And go where?”

“Cherry’s.” I offer. “I think you need something with sugar, and I don’t have the strength to refuse something sweet.”

“Let’s do it.”

For the first time in my life, I skip class.

21

DON’T WANT TO MISS THIS

JANUARY 2008 – 16 YEARS OLD

“Faye Mabel Foster,” Mom calls sharply from the kitchen as soon as I enter the front door. “I expect your school-skipping-self in here promptly to explain.”

I can’t help my grin as I kick off my boots, sliding them onto the shelf in the closet.

If there’s one rule in this house, it’s that all outdoor wear is put in its place as soon as one enters. Mom doesn’t like a messy entrance and there’s no surer way to flip her over the edge than to leave a stray shoe somewhere she might trip over it.

“Hey, Mom.” I move straight for the kettle, flipping the switch.

Mom pauses her puzzle. This one will be a magical picture of faeries, if the box is anything to go by. She folds her arms over her chest and notches a single brow. “Want to tell me why you skipped school?”

“A friend needed me.”

“I already know this friend wasn’t Holt, because I called Elise. She didn’t get the call I got from the school.”

“Not Holt.” I pour hot water over a bag of peach tea, squeezing lemon into the cup. Then I take the cup to the table. “Shyanne.”

Mom’s brows inch up her forehead. “Shyanne?”

I nod and sip my tea. It’s scalding hot, but that’s how I like it. “Mmhmm.”

“The girl that’s been mean to you since we moved here?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well.” Mom sighs. “Color me intrigued, Faye.”

“Her boyfriend cheated on her.” I pause for another sip. “With her best friend.”

An unladylike word slips from between Mom’s lips, and it’s my turn to raise my brows. Mom doesn’t cuss.