24. Sam #2
Slowly, in a daze I move back over to the jeans and lift them from the floor.
“It's nothing, Sam.” I talk to myself. “He promised no more secrets.” Damn it.
My fingers slip in the left pocket and I exhale, feeling that it's empty.
I do the same to the right pocket and freeze when I feel the delicate paper edges.
Sliding my hand out, I hold the folded paper in my palm.
I want to ignore it. I do not want to make a big deal about finding the paper, knowing it could potentially be a hundred other things.
A grocery list, a to-do list, a wish list for the garage, a budgeting sheet, a list of passwords even.
My mind makes up all kinds of excuses and I’m close to putting it back when I note how worn it is.
The paper is almost yellowing. But it's the chrome, little red star stickers on the edge that catch my attention and hold it.
Carefully, my fingers unfold the paper that looks like it's been creased a thousand times over. I gasp when the familiar handwriting comes into view. My handwriting. My list of my life goals. But what really stops my heart is the things with slashes through them and the notes he’s scrawled in the margins.
It lists my tuition at Michigan. The name of my apartment sits next to Live on my own.
When I get to the end the word Babies is circled.
When I made this list before senior year, I never knew the turns my life was going to take or how soon some of these goals would happen.
“Mommy!” Dylan parades down the hall, stopping in front of the open bedroom door.
I fold the paper and shove it in my pocket.
“I’m ready, sweet girl.” Taking her hand, I lead her out of the room and we grab the food for Jameson.
Walking down the stairs, I feel a flutter of nervousness in my chest. I try to school my features, not wanting to give away that I’ve seen another one of his secrets.
I have so many questions, and I need to think.
I need the space to do that. No one is in the office on our way out.
I drop the breakfast, his water bottle and his wallet on his desk and scoop Dylan up before hurrying out.
At my Jeep, I get her buckled in and drive toward her daycare.
Dylan chatters happily in the back. I try to pay attention, but my mind keeps drifting back to that damn list. Daycare drop off goes smooth, and finally, I’m able to head to campus.
I park my Jeep and walk toward the building where my first class is.
My hand grips my phone and it vibrates in my fist.
KANE: Thanks for dropping my wallet off. Everything okay?
He knows. Somehow he knows, I can feel it. My fingers fly over the keys.
ME: Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?
I wait for an answer. Seconds pass and those little bubble dots dance and disappear.
KANE: Okay, Pretty Girl.
That one sentence looks innocent, but I can read between the lines in Jameson speak.
He knows I looked through his pockets. He knows I saw the list. My heart jumps in my chest and my eyes swing around me.
I duck into the library and walk deep into the stacks, away from prying eyes.
Dropping my bag to the floor, I pull out the paper again.
My gaze flicks over the list, ranging from my senior year and beyond.
I remember sitting down to write it, Jameson looking over my shoulder.
That was the last time I saw it on paper, thinking my mom had accidentally thrown it away with my trash.
I guess now I know where it went. The more I read, the more bits of information I’ve heard recently come back to me.
Buy my own car. My aunt pretty much told me at Thanksgiving that Jameson was responsible for me having my Jeep.
A sinking realization happens and I hear Isla’s voice in my head.
“He competes in many races but mostly only those with a lot of money on the line,” Isla explains further.
“How much money?”
“Quarter of a million dollars. That's just this race.”
“Off one race?”
Isla glances at me; her face etched in concern. “Yeah, babe. And this isn’t his first race. Jameson’s been racing for the past three years for Romeo.”
“No.” I shake my head in denial. There’s no way.
Soon other puzzle pieces start to fall into place.
The sudden opening at Natures Ridge, my apartment building.
Jameson’s handwritten note with that same name next to Live on my own.
The easy transfer to Michigan and the scholarship.
My tuition amount is written in the same penmanship next to my list of college choices.
“This isn’t happening,” I whisper to myself, feeling tears well in my eyes.
My legs shake as I take steps forward. I need answers and I don’t trust going to Jameson right now.
Instead, I make my way out of the library, forgoing classes for the morning until I figure out how deep this goes.
The admissions building is right across from the library as I run out the door and up the stairs.
The office area is clean and crisp and has three different receptionists.
“Can I help you, dear?” A sweet, middle-aged lady dressed in a deep burgundy pantsuit addresses me.
Clearing my throat, I approach her and hope she can’t see the tracks of tears left on my cheeks. “Yes. I need to talk to someone about my scholarship."
Her head tilts and her eyes narrow slightly. “Can I get your first and last name, please?”
“Sam. Sam Campbell,” I rattle off the necessary information to help her look me up in her system. Her lips turn into a frown as she reads the screen and her eyes come up to mine slightly confused. “I’m sorry, Miss Campbell. I don’t have you listed here as a recipient of one of our scholarships.”
My face pales and there's a flash of concern in her eyes. “You aren’t getting a scholarship but your tuition is being paid. All deposits are usually paid in advance. Right now, it's through the beginning of your next semester.”
My eyes widen. “That’s over twenty thousand dollars.”
She nods, glancing at her computer. “Yes, dear.”
In a last ditch effort, I look at her pleadingly. “Can you please tell me if Paisley Rourke is the name on the checks.”
The poor woman turns back to the computer and clicks a few more buttons before clucking her tongue. “Nope. It looks like the checks are in the name of a Mr. Jameson Kane.”
Noise fades and white dots dance in front of my vision. My lungs seize for air. “Thank you,” I manage to tell the woman, while I walk away fast, staring into space like a zombie.
My aunt lied to me. Jameson lied and has been keeping more secrets.
Life-altering secrets. How much has he done to get me here?
Why is he doing all of this? I should ask him.
I could pull out my phone now, make the call, or show up at the shop demanding answers.
Would he tell me the truth? My breath shudders in my chest and I feel the most vulnerable as I have in years.
I want to run and I want to hide. My mind needs time to process this bombshell and come to grips with what it means.
I coast through the rest of my afternoon classes. Attending for appearances but not paying attention. Somehow, I make it through practice, but I can feel Riley’s, Emma’s and Isla’s concerned gazes on me the entire time. After practice, I pull Riley to the side.
“Can you come get Dylan tonight?”
Her brow rises and shock flashes in her eyes. “Yes. Are you okay? Did something happen?”
I shake my head. “No. Don’t tell anyone I’m asking, especially the guys, please.”
And I tell her quickly about how Carter went to Jameson when Isla and I were in Chicago. Riley frowns.
“Carter needs his head examined. But yes, I promise, I won’t say anything until you say it’s okay.”
“Thanks, Riles.” I hug her and leave the locker room to get Dylan. This is usually Jameson’s late night, which happens to work in my favor.