“That’s not true.”
“It is one thousand percent true.”
Cara pushed to her feet, grabbed the ice cream container, and threw it angrily in the trash, turning to glare at him. Wes’s eyebrows met in the middle. “It wasn’t a criticism. I’m happy that you aren’t only eating lean protein and vegetables.”
Cara crossed her arms across her chest. “I eat other stuff. There’s nothing wrong with eating healthy.”
“I don’t care about the ice cream. I care why you were so upset.”
Her expression stayed mulish. “It’s none of your business.”
Wes reared back. “You’re right.” He slowly got to his feet, an ache spreading through his chest and huffed an angry laugh. “It’s not. I thought we were friends, but when I think about it, I know next to nothing about you.”
“That’s not true.” But she didn’t meet his eyes.
“Right,” he said with a nod.
She stepped into his path and tilted her chin up.
“I told you about my brothers, our family… how worried I’ve been. I’ve never told anyone that. We’ve been living together, eating together.” She waved her hand at the paused image on the television. “What more do you want to know?”
Everything.
The word flashed in his brain.
He folded his arms across his chest, mirroring her. “I want to know why you are unhappy your best friend is coming to visit. And why you looked at me like I had suddenly become a serial killer when I said you were from Connecticut?”
Her entire body appeared to deflate in front of him, and his frustration was replaced with concern. Her face tipped to the floor, and the knot she had tied her hair up in slid to the side, giving her a lopsided appearance when she finally looked back at him.
“Fine.” She brushed past him and retook her seat.
A wave of relief washed over him–until he saw the look in her eyes. She looked defeated, and a stab of guilt hit him square in the chest.
“What do you want to know?” she asked when he was seated. She picked at her nails, not looking at him.
“An easy one—where are you from?” He’d meant it to be funny, but her lips twisted.
“Not as easy as you’d think.”
“Okay, where did you go to school?”
She let out a resigned sigh. “I didn’t go to a real school until I was nine. My mother… traveled a lot for work, so I was homeschooled. Except my mom usually forgot to hire someone, or they quit because they couldn’t deal with her moods. Eventually, Siobhan and Anne confronted her about it. They saw I wasn’t getting the education I needed and made my dad step in.”
Wes’s mouth fell open. “Did you go live with your dad?”
Cara chuckled. “My dad loved me, but he wasn’t interested in being a full-time parent. My mother knew people who had children around the same age. They sent their children—Amara and Colin–to a boarding school in Switzerland. She decided that was the best place for me.” She glanced at him for the first time. “It wasn’t bad. In a lot of ways, it was better than being with my mother. I spent most school holidays at Siobhan’s or Anne’s, and like I told you before, I was with my dad for the summer. Amara and I roomed together almost the whole time. We’re more like sisters than friends.”
A spasm crossed her face. “Or at least that’s how we used to be.”
“What changed?”
She leveled a flat stare at him.
Right. Red light.
“Why did you have a rough day?” He tried again.
Her brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
