I sat down again and held on to Cole’s hand, as much to lend him support as to get some support in return.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Maybe we do need a little more. Maybe Britta will be able to tell us why Sara was acting so weird, or why Grady Weaver was so guarded, or why my grandmother gave a fired schoolteacher a million-dollar lake house.”
“Okay,” Cole said. “Let’s make a deal that we talk to Britta and whatever she tells us we take to Special Agent Presco.”
“I think that’s a good plan,” I said. “But, Cole, I’m gonna talk to my mom about all this.”
He looked like he wanted to protest, but then stopped himself.
“Yeah,” he said. “That might be a good idea. And if she doesn’t let you come with me tomorrow, don’t sweat it. I’ll talk to Britta alone.”
“Oh, you’re not going alone,” I told him firmly. “Even if I have to sneak out of the house, I’m coming with you.”
He softened and swung my hand back and forth. “You make an awesome sidekick, you know that, Lily Bennett?”
That made me smile, too. “I’ve got mad skills, baby,” I mimicked. “Mad skills.”
“DON’T BE MAD,” SPENCE SAID as he sat on the swing on our back porch.
It was late. I was tired from studying for finals all day, and worrying about what Sara had said all weekend. Spence had been conveniently out of touch most of the day until after dinner when he’d finally returned my call.
“You need to come over here so we can talk,” I’d said evenly the minute I’d heard his voice. By that time, I was seriously angry.
Now here he was, and he seemed to think I was ticked off because we hadn’t hung out together over the weekend.
“Hey,” he said, reaching for me. “Ambi, come here. Sit with me, okay?”
I was standing at the railing, arms crossed, and caught between feeling heartbroken and so angry I could scream. I avoided his touch and continued to glare hard at him.
“Is it true?” I finally managed to say, my voice quavering.
He frowned at me. “Is what true?”
There was an edge to his voice. The same edge that’d been present in so many of our conversations the past few of weeks. I thought it was time to put everything on the table. “Are you breaking up with me?”
He sat there for a long moment and just stared. “No,” he said at last. “But you should probably break up with me.”
I stared at him, dumbstruck. “What the hell does that mean, Spence?”
He hung his head and, to my utter shock, his shoulders started to shake. He was crying. All of my pent-up anger evaporated, and I went to him to wrap my arms around him.
“Spence,” I whispered. “Spence! What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”
He grabbed me and pulled me to him, crushing me against his chest like he was holding on for dear life. “I’m so sorry,” he cried. “Ambi, I’m so sorry!”
I stroked his hair and held on to him for a long, long time until he calmed down. Finally, he loosened his hold on me and sat back on the seat to gather up my hands, but he wouldn’t look at me.
“Tell me,” I said gently. “Spence, please tell me what’s going on?”
“I didn’t get the scholarship,” he said.
His words were slow to sink in. “Okay,” I said. “What about the financial aid package?”
“The deadline for that was last week, Amber. Mom told me she sent it in, but when I called, they said they never got it. I went through the house and found it. She never filled it out. When I confronted her about it, she broke down. She said she couldn’t make it without my help. I can’t go,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “She needs me. Stacey needs me. I want to go with you so bad, but I can’t.”
He started crying again and buried his head in his hands, then leaned himself forward and just cried in my lap. I hugged him while my mind whirred.
“Okay,” I said at last. “Spence, I understand. We just have to figure out what to do now. That’s all. Either way, we’ll figure it out and it’ll be okay. I promise.”
But it wasn’t going to be okay. I could feel my dreams slipping away. Dreams of a life together with Spence in California. Me, as a psychiatrist, and Spence working his way up the corporate ladder. I’d imagined us living a little farther south in San Diego. We’d find a cute bungalow together. We’d raise our children there. I wanted three: two boys and a girl. Spence would make an amazing father. We’d be happy.
I realized then that I’d held that dream for so long I’d made it my reality. What I’d forgotten was Spence and the crushing weight of responsibility that he carried.
Of course he couldn’t leave his mom and his sister. I wondered if he ever would have, even with the money for school. Would he have left them?
“Hey,” I said, lifting him up to face me. “Please don’t cry. We’ll figure it out, honey. We will.”