Page 43 of Strict Confidence (Rochester Trilogy 2)
Then she lands on the ultimate space—Boardwalk.
That wipes out most of her houses and requires her to mortgage some of her properties. With this much money in my coffers, the game is essentially over.
“You beat me,” Paige says, sounding more surprised than frustrated. There’s a kind of grudging awe in her eyes. “I usually win.”
“I know you do. You get it from our side of the family.”
“You did pretty good,” Paige says. “Did you and daddy used to play?”
“We were pretty competitive,” I say, which is an understatement. It was normal for our games to end in fistfights, the board pieces scattered as we threw punches.
“What about you?” she asks Jane. “Did you used to play when you were a kid?
I tense, wondering if the question will bother her. My childhood wasn’t exactly sunshine and cookies, but it’s nothing compared to hers. She lost her father and then got tossed around in a system rife with abuse. But she doesn’t appear bothered by the question.
“Yes, and I lost then, too,” she says, laughing. I would sit here playing Monopoly with her forever just to hear her laugh. “Wiped out. Flat broke. It’s just like in real life.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jane Mendoza
The iPhone is the fanciest phone I’ve ever owned. It feels both sturdy and incredibly breakable in my hands, even protected in its shiny new case. I can’t stop running my fingertips around the edges. It’s beautiful, honestly. Too beautiful for a phone to be. And it’s mine.
In my room at the inn, I have a few free minutes to spend with it. I didn’t want to take it out of the box at first. It felt too much like the clothes. Too much like stepping into someone else’s life.
Jane Mendoza can’t afford the latest iPhone with its sleek, considered packaging.
Even opening the box felt nice. Peeling back the protective film on the screen was an upgraded experience. Ten minutes with it, and it already feels at home in my hand. It’s easy to get used to this kind of thing. It’s made to be that way.
I curl up on the bed and reset all my passwords while Paige plays in her room. She likes to have a few minutes before we start the day. And my hours don’t officially start until eight.
It only takes a few minutes to log in to Facebook.
Notifications pop up the second the screen loads. Messages. For me. From Noah.
I haven’t heard from you in forever—are you okay?
Did something happen??
If you don’t answer, I’m flying to Maine to make sure you’re okay.
I’m dialing his number as soon as I read that last message. The last thing anyone needs is for Noah to fly to Maine in that state of mind. He’d find me in the inn, in clothes that we could never afford, and—
“Jane?”
“It’s me, Noah. It’s me.”
He curses, relief and frustration tight in his voice. The background noise crashes next. Someone shouting in the background. He must be at his warehouse job right now.
“Don’t hang up,” he says over it, his voice broken by the pounding. A voice in the background swings close, then fades away. The rest of the noise fades with it until I can barely hear the thrum through the speakers. I know just how Noah would look, stepping out into a muggy Houston morning, hands shaking as he pulled out a cigarette to smoke. “What the hell happened?”
“There was an accident.” Lie, lie, lie. It was no accident. Someone lit the house on fire while we were in it. It’s been confirmed by the fire chief. “A fire. I lost my phone.”
“What? What the fuck?” His breathing picks up. He’ll be pacing right now. Walking away from wherever he’s been. “Tell me what the hell happened, Jane. Tell me right now. Fuck.”
“I’m fine.” I’m not fine. Nothing is fine. The house burned down and I spend every day breathing in fear and frustration. “I’m okay. We all got out in time.”
“The whole house?” He’s horrified. “The whole thing came down?”
It came down on Beau first. Heat scorches my cheeks. His dark eyes had looked out at me from an ocean of orange. That beam pinning him to the floor. His fury, like a fire itself. I love you, damn you. He hadn’t had enough leverage to save himself but he found it to shield me from the ceiling coming in. Every breath I take feels hot. Tight. My lungs ache.
“Yeah. The whole thing, and I lost—” Tears sting the corners of my eyes. I’ve stayed focused on Paige. On Beau. On keeping it together while we’re here in this horrible in-between space. I haven’t let myself think of what I lost. The phone feels too slick in my hands. Too nice. I’d trade it to have my photo back. “I lost the photo, the only one I had.”
