Despite never seeing my aunt, I knew where she lived. She’d been in the same house in town with my alcoholic uncle since I’d been a kid. It was a run-down one-story on the edges of the rough part of town. It looked even more like a dump than I remembered. The fence was destroyed in one section, the yard was overrun with weeds, and the entire house looked like one good hurricane wind off the Atlantic would knock the whole thing over.
Uncle Bobby sat on the porch, shirtless, with a litter of Budweisers surrounding him. He nodded his head at me as I parked in the driveway and stomped up the steps. “Hey there. Now, that’s a face I haven’t seen in a while.”
Bobby hadn’t always been like this. He and Aunt Ruth had four kids, and he’d been a doting dad until the youngest left for college. I’d joked once that being alone with Aunt Ruth had sent him to the bottle. Gran had called me unkind, but I didn’t think that I was wrong.
“Hey, Bobby. My mom here?” I asked, my Southern accent—which I’d thought I’d gotten rid of—coming out in full force.
He glanced at the door and back. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. They’ve been yelling since they got back.”
“That why you’re outside?”
He held up a beer. “Smarter than being in there.”
I nodded and then pulled open the screen to knock on the door. The shouting ceased for a blessed minute before Aunt Ruth jerked the door open. She was a portly woman with thinning blonde hair and a mean sneer on her lips.
“Oh, Miss High and Mighty dares to bless us with her presence,” Aunt Ruth said with an eye roll.
“I want to speak to my mom,” I said, ignoring her jab at my education.
“Hannah, one of your brats is here.”
I clenched my jaw. How the hell these two women had been raised by my Gran was beyond me. How was it even possible that they’d come from the same house that I’d grown up in? Gran had told me that they made their choices, just like I made mine, but it didn’t seem like a sufficient enough reason.
“Marley Sue,” my mom said, stepping into the light.
She’d always been such a contrast to her sister with beautiful, long, flowing brown hair with just a hint of curl—where I’d gotten mine. Even in her late forties, it was obvious how she’d always gotten men interested in her with her wide brown eyes, perfectly painted lush lips, and lithe figure. Gran had said that I looked like her when I cared about my appearance. I’d scoffed and vowed to only care about where my brain could get me and not my body. It hadn’t always worked.
“What the fuck is this, Mom?”
I thrust the paperwork out at her. She took it in her hand, tapping her fresh French manicure against the papers. Then, she arched an eyebrow. “You’re the smart one. Shouldn’t you know?”
“How dare you challenge Gran’s will!”
My mom straightened at my words. “Oh, I dare. I was in that will until a few short months ago. Your precious Gran left me and Ruth everything. Clearly, you had something to do with it to get her to hand over everything to you and your brother and leave us with nothing. She wasn’t in her right mind in the end anyway.”
I glared at her. “I didn’t do anything. You had that enormous fight with Gran. It’s not my fault that she finally saw you as the leech you always were and cut you out.”
“Can I quote you on that?” she asked with a smirk.
She made me want to scream. I took a breath and asked, “What do you even want?”
“I want the house.”
I shook my head. No fucking way was that happening. “I’ll give you money if you need money, but you’re not getting the house.”
“I don’t need your money. When I sell that house, I’ll be doing just fine.”
“You can’t sell Gran’s house.” My voice hitched, and I hated it. I hated that my mom could make me fall back into that scared little girl all over again. I’d worked so hard to get rid of her.
“You’ll find that I absolutely can.”
I shook my head. “You’re a monster. You were a terrible daughter and an even worse mother. I will fight you tooth and nail over this. You can’t win.”
She grinned. “Then you’d better lawyer up, Marley Sue. And oh, I already have the best in town.”
She slammed the door in my face, the same way I’d done to Derek. This time, I did actually scream. I closed my eyes and let loose.
Uncle Bobby stood and patted my shoulder. “Sorry about that, kid.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m going to win.”
He nodded but knew better than to say anything where his wife could hear. I stomped away from the house, getting back into Nancy and driving away.
My mother was right about one thing—I needed a lawyer. And I needed one right now. Because there was no fucking way that they were getting the house. Not ever.
5
Savannah
November 1, 2004
I vowed to stop thinking about that kiss at Derek’s Halloween party. It was Monday morning, and I needed it to stop. Derek Ballentine was a Holy Cross boy. We might have had a connection in that moment and a series of incredible kisses, but again… Holy Cross boy. I wasn’t stupid enough to think that it’d meant anything to him.
Danielle met me in the school parking lot when I hopped out of Maddox’s truck. Jack was speed-typing on his phone, hardly paying attention until he saw Maddox. He pocketed his phone, and they started in on the show and future rehearsals and the running theme about the band name.
“Local Carnage is a cool name,” Maddox complained.
“It sounds violent,” Danielle piped up.
Jack slipped an arm around Danielle as his phone noisily pinged again. He glanced at it and then put it back. “We need something else. Something that fits our sound better.”
“Who’s texting you?” Danielle asked.
“Just my mom,” he said and then arched an eyebrow at Maddox. “Thoughts?”
I let them get ahead of me. Personally, I thought Local Carnage was the best of the ones they’d gone by before. This had to be the third or fourth name they’d picked. Next concert, it would be something else since Jack never seemed to be able to make up his mind.
I stepped inside, and immediately, a guy that I’d only vaguely seen before whistled at me. I jumped, turning around to see if maybe he was whistling at someone else.
“Looking good, Marley,” he said with a wink.
My cheeks flushed. What the hell was he talking about? I looked exactly the same as I always did—nondescript. I had on bootcut jeans with a white tank top, layered under a baby-blue T-shirt with a jean jacket over top and a backpack stuffed to the brim. My hair was in a ponytail, and I had on zero makeup. There was no reason for whistling.
I hurried away from the guy, tucking the book I was holding tight to my chest. I stopped at my locker, opening it with the combination and filling the space from my overstuffed backpack. I was only a sophomore, but I was already taking three AP classes, and my class load was intense on top of dance and cheer.
“So, Marley,” a guy said, leaning against the side of the locker next to mine. This one I did recognize. Brandt Johnston was a senior and on the baseball team. He was being recruited by Alabama. “You want to go out this weekend?”