EVA FOUND HER EXACTLY where Rosalyn said she’d be. Shivering from the cold because her skirt was too short and she had no hat or gloves, Caitlin looked right past Eva’s car. Teenagers, Eva thought to herself as she parked.
The air was biting cold, whipping across the Starbucks patio like a swarm of ice pellets. The things she did for her friends. First Jacks, then Barlow. There was still the matter of poor Sara Livingston—she would handle that somehow, and in some way that would shield the truth. Rosalyn didn’t need to know everything. Now this . . .
Sighing with dismay at what the world was coming to, Eva got out of the car and walked to the bench where Caitlin was huddled. Eva knew the sight of her would at first shock the girl then piss her off when she realized this could not be a coincidence.
“Don’t say it,” Eva announced before Cait had even looked up.
Cait stood, her hands dropped from her pockets and her face in a state of shock. She started to speak, but Eva held her hand to her mouth. “Don’t say it. I know.”
After the shock came anger, and Eva knew she’d have to let Cait say something now. Still, it was too damned cold.
“Can we get in the car first?”
Cait huffed as she followed Eva to the car. Eva had taken the Porsche because it would be harder for Cait to hate her in a Porsche, and because the seats were heated.
“Okay,” Eva said, closing her door and turning on the ignition. “Now you may speak.”
But Cait didn’t speak. She just started to cry.
“Oh, shit. Here we go.” Eva handed her a tissue from her purse, then placed a hand on Cait’s shoulder.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Cait nodded. She was okay. Cold, but okay.
“I hate her,” she said when the tears subsided.
Eva nodded. “I know.”
“How did she know I’d be here?” The question was straightforward, but they both knew that Cait’s worries went much deeper.
Eva groaned. It wasn’t her place to give Rosalyn’s teen-spying techniques away, but Cait was on to her now.
“Your iPhone has a GPS tracker.”
Cait shook her head. “Oh my God. How long?”
Eva could see her trying to remember everything she’d done, every place she’d gone without telling her mother.
“Your mother can be a real pain in the ass when she wants to be. But now that she’s spoiled everything, can I drive you home?”
“No.”
“I wasn’t really asking.”
The tears started again. “I hate her. I’ll hate her for the rest of my life!”
Eva put the car in reverse, then turned on the seat warmers. “I know. But in a few seconds your butt’s gonna be really warm. That’s something, right?”
Cait wasn’t amused, but it hadn’t really been for Cait. Someday, if she was lucky, Cait would have a life where she could find pleasure in something so small. When all of this angst and pain would be gone and life would roll along the way it was meant to—not with trauma and crises and the continuous loop of drama that played like a top-forty hit, over and over until it was stuck in your head. If she was lucky, and Eva believed she was, she would fall into bed with her best friend and whisper that her butt had been nice and warm in the car. And that it had been a good day.