Julie couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “That’s correct,” she replied with a weak smile. “I’m simply an innocent bystander to the cat collecting.”
“Then it’s settled. You are officially absolved of all responsibility for this”—Carson pointed at the house behind her, his eyebrows bunched together as he searched for the appropriate word—“um . . . situation. . . . And you are officially my girlfriend—if you want to be, that is. Anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me.”
Julie beamed at him. She couldn’t believe her eyes, her ears . . . or her heart. And just like that, every horrible thing her mother had said to her receded into the background. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t damaged goods after all. Maybe she was okay—someone worth caring for. Someone worth loving, even.
More than anything on earth, Julie wanted to believe Carson was right.
CHAPTER THREE
MONDAY AFTERNOON, CAITLIN MARTELL-LEWIS PULLED into a lot that was empty except for a boatlike green Cadillac under a canopy of trees. When she got out of her own car, her ears rang with the peaceful silence, and her nose twitched with the scent of freshly cut grass and newly planted flowers. She looked beyond the wrought iron gates and into the rolling hills peppered with tombstones. Suddenly she heard a sound behind a tree, and her heart seized. For some reason, she felt like she was being tailed . . . maybe by the cops. Was she? Were they following all of them around, trying to find something that might link them to Granger’s death?
But then she looked again. It was just a squirrel.
Sighing, Caitlin locked her car, pocketed her keys, and made her way to her brother’s grave. She could probably do it blindfolded at this point—pass the headstone with the big angels on top of it, a right at the guy who was buried next to his two Italian greyhounds, and then up the little hill and under the tree. Hey, Taylor, began the monologue in her head. It’s me again. Your crazy sister, skipping soccer practice, here to vent about how crazy my life has become.
There was so much she had to tell Taylor, who’d passed away at the end of last year . . . and so much she wished he could tell her, stuff she would never get to know. Like how much he suffered at Nolan Hotchkiss’s hands, or why he’d decided it would be easier to die than to show his sweet face at school for just one more day. Had there been a final straw? Caitlin would probably never forgive herself for not seeing the signs in him sooner. If she had, would he still be here?
She rounded a tree. Her brother’s grave was ahead—and a new Dragon Ball Z figurine rested atop his headstone. Caitlin stopped, confused. She was the only person who placed new action figures on his grave. Well, she and . . .
Her thoughts halted as a figure appeared from behind another tree. It was Jeremy Friday. The only other person who cared enough to leave Taylor little tokens.
Jeremy turned and saw Caitlin at the same time. His eyebrows shot up, and his eyes softened. His expression looked hopeful, which filled Caitlin with all kinds of emotions—love, relief, excitement, and anxiety, too. She took in his lanky frame, holey Star Wars T-shirt, and dark jeans. If you’d asked her even a few weeks ago if she’d go for someone like Jeremy, Caitlin would’ve laughed. But he was perfect. A diamond in the rough. He’d been under her nose this whole time, and she hadn’t seen how special he was.
And what was even more perfect? That Jeremy was smiling at her instead of scowling. The last time she’d seen him was two nights ago in the Fridays’ basement, when all the Granger stuff had gone down. Josh, her ex-boyfriend and Jeremy’s brother, had caught them together, and instead of standing up for their new relationship, Caitlin had just kind of . . . bolted. She’d assumed Jeremy hated her for that.
But when she stepped toward him, he pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” Caitlin blurted, overwhelmed. “About everything. I’m sorry I just ran like that. I just . . . I don’t know.”
“It’s okay.” Jeremy kissed the top of her head. “You were caught off guard.”
“That’s an understatement,” Caitlin said emphatically.
“But, well,” Jeremy faltered, playing with her hair. “Do you still want to be with me? I mean—I understand that it’s really complicated, so . . .”
In reply, Caitlin stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him, cutting him off. “Does that answer your question?” she breathed, when they broke apart.