Dreamers Often Lie by Jacqueline West Read Free Book Online Page A

thumped along the hall, down the stairs. I heard the murmur of Mom’s voice intersecting with his again, the creak of a hinge, and then the front door thudding shut.
    I dropped the folder onto the carpet.
    My chest felt tight. The ache in my head pounded from side to side like clothes in an unbalanced washing machine.
    I’d been so close to falling apart. In front of PierceCaplan. If there was anyone I
didn’t
want to see me crumble into a pathetic, messy pile, it would be Pierce. In all the years I’d known him—basically my entire life—I’d never seen him fail at anything. He didn’t spill things. He didn’t trip on bumpy pathways. He never said or wore or did anything that was less than exactly right. Pierce was golden.
    There was another footstep in the doorway.
    Mom breezed into my room. She leaned back against the wall, smiling almost coyly. “So,” she said, pointing the smile at me. “That’s what Pierce Caplan looks like these days.”
    I made sure there was nothing coy in
my
voice. “Yes, it is.”
    Mom shook her head, still smiling, her gaze wandering past me toward the darkened window. “It’s so funny to go from seeing him every day to maybe once or twice a year. He practically
lived
here when you were little.”
    “I know, Mom. I remember.”
    “He had his own toothbrush and towel and everything. It’s like he’s aged in fast-motion. He’s gotten so tall and handsome, hasn’t he?”
    I looked at the tops of my socks. “Hmm.”
    Mom was quiet for so long that I thought she must have gone away. But when I glanced up, she was still standing there, leaning against the wall with her arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes were shiny with tears.
    I hated it when Mom cried. She didn’t do it often. Thatshe did it
ever
was bad enough. It made me feel like my spine had been split in half and pulled out through the soles of my feet.
    “What?” I said. I sounded irritated. Angrier than I meant to.
    “It’s just nice to see you two together again,” Mom whispered. “Lots of good memories.” She pulled herself away from the wall. “Dinner will be out of the oven in twenty minutes.”
    I knew how I’d missed Pierce for the past two years. It was sharp at first, like a smaller, cleaner version of the wound Dad left, and then it grew increasingly dull, until what I felt wasn’t missing him anymore, but resenting him for making me miss him in the first place. I hadn’t thought much about what Mom might feel. We’d certainly never talked about it. Once that hideous winter was over, we’d never talked about
any
of it. The Caplans had been our best friends, and when they’d disappeared along with Dad, Mom had lost four people at once. I’d assumed it was the ugliness that distanced us. Everyone wanting to avoid the reminders, the conversations. But the way Mom looked now, smiling and teary, just because Pierce had spent a few minutes in our house again . . .
    “Hey, Mom?”
    She halted in the doorway.
    “You didn’t, like . . .” I slowed myself.
Watch your words.Neutral tone.
“Did something happen between us and the Caplans?”
    Mom blinked. Her tone was neutral too. “What do you mean?”
    “Like—maybe—when you were dividing up the business afterward?”
    “They bought us out. Which was just what we wanted.”
    “So there wasn’t—with what happened—” I groped for the words. “We weren’t going to sue them or something?”
    Mom’s eyebrows twitched, but she barely looked surprised. “Of course not,” she said softly. “It was an accident. Everyone knew that.” She tapped one fingertip on the doorframe. “Twenty minutes.” Then she turned and glided out of view, revealing Sadie lurking in the hall behind her.
    I sighed. “Well, you might as well come in. Eavesdropper.”
    Sadie sauntered across the room and flopped down onto the bed beside me. “I thought you loved an audience.”
    “Not right
now.
I didn’t want anybody to see me
right now.
And they