Chapter 2

I set Biscuit back in his carrier and pushed open the door of the vet clinic.

Straight into the eyes of Cameron Sutton and my best friend.

The same panic flashed through both of them at once.

"Charity, it's so late, why are you here..."

Cameron seemed to have completely forgotten that Biscuit had just had a heart attack.

He shifted forward on instinct, putting himself between me and the little cat and the girl.

I looked right at him and asked, my voice cold:

"Cameron, I had no idea you loved cats this much, that you'd become a stray-rescue volunteer, that you'd come out catching cats in the middle of the night."

His face went ugly. He lowered his voice.

"Charity, let me explain..."

But a clear, bright voice cut him off.

"It's true, he's the person who loves cats most I've ever met!"

The girl's eyes were shining, wide as a doe's, as if she'd missed the sarcasm entirely.

"In two whole years he's never once missed a volunteer event. Even last New Year's Eve he was out helping me catch strays!"

Last New Year's Eve.

Cameron had taken a call, said something about work, thrown on his coat, and left.

On a day meant for family and warmth, I was so alone.

I'd asked if I could come to the apartment and hold Biscuit for a while.

He wrote back fast:

"Charity, you know how it is. Every time you hold that smelly cat, I can't even touch you afterward."

"It's a holiday. You wouldn't really leave your man hanging like that, would you. [pitiful]"

In the end I sat with a plate of cold dumplings and waited up for him all night.

The girl was still counting it off.

"And you know what, the cat food and cans he buys for the strays are all imported brands. You can tell he did his homework."

It came back to me all at once.

He'd once asked me which brand of cat cans was the best.

I'd thought he wanted to buy them for Biscuit.

"Biscuit, say thank you to Daddy."

I'd held Biscuit's paw and made him bow to Cameron.

Filmed it, sent it over.

But the video showed as never received.

And in the end no cans ever came.

Turned out they were for the strays.

"Oh, do you know Cameron?"

The girl looked at me, curious.

"Yes. I'm his—"

"The three of us used to be classmates. High school."

My best friend cut in, shooting me frantic looks.

"I'll take her home. Skye, you two go on."

She grabbed my wrist hard and pulled me away.

And on Cameron's face, a pleading look surfaced.

All at once it felt pointless.

I gave a careless nod, turned, and left.

"Charity, it's not what you think!"

Behind me, Iris came running, out of breath.

"We've been friends since we were kids."

"I don't understand why you'd help an outsider, a mistress, lie to me."

I turned on her, eyes red.

"Skye is not a mistress!"

"Don't talk about her like that. Her family and the Suttons go way back. It was only after her parents went bankrupt and had that accident that they lost touch!"

Iris was worked up.

It was the first time she'd ever turned on me with that sharp, cutting tone.

"All these years, both her parents dead, no one but herself to lean on, and she still fought her way into college. A pampered heiress like you would never understand!

"And besides, the two of them were supposed to be promised to each other as kids. If you're counting who came first, you're the mistress."

"She's kind, she's gentle, she depends on us completely, and I will not let you destroy that."

I held the carrier tight against me and stared at her, unable to believe it.

"And what about me?"

Iris gently smoothed back my rain-soaked hair.

Then she draped her coat over me and said softly:

"Hasn't Cameron been good enough to you? Some things, you can't take too seriously."

I wanted to say: Iris, have you forgotten? I've taken things seriously since we were little.

When you were bullied as a kid and everyone told you to let it go, I was the one who stood up for you, hard.

But I didn't say it. All I left her with, worn out, was one line:

"Forget it. I'll just pretend I never had you as a friend."