I’m a bitch plain and simple, but here’s the thing…I’ve never pretended otherwise. Where Jake is concerned, I’ve let my guard down. I’ve allowed him into my world, and occasionally—at least for a few brief moments—I forget who I really am.

I want to let go like Morgan suggested. I want to go back to the teenage version of myself, the one who still trusted herself, and give that girl to Jake. I’m beyond fucking scared, but no matter what I do, he won’t go away.

He shows up at my apartment every damn weekend acting like he was invited, and every time I see him, my resolve to be a bitch slowly fades. I’m not even sure who I am anymore.

“Second house on the left is the address you gave me,” the cab driver informs us.

“Wow,” Jake murmurs under his breath.

Neither Jake nor I grew up wealthy, but we didn’t grow up in this state of poverty.

“Wait here. I’m going to go up to the door and pretend I’m selling something.”

“No, wait.” I attempt to grab his arm, but he jumps out of the cab before I can stop him.

Nerves, fear, and possibly full-blown hysteria take over as I watch the door to the run-down house open. Instead of Mary Ownings, a younger man opens the door. He talks to Jake for far longer than I feel comfortable with before he finally closes the door.

My anxiety spikes as Jake takes his sweet time walking back to the cab. “What the hell? Did you find anything out?”

“We’re ready to leave,” he says to the cab driver before finally looking at me. “Oh yeah, there’s something going on it that house.”

“What?” I shout before glancing one last time at the old house. “How do you know something’s wrong?”

“The fact that I almost got high by the dude opening the door was my first clue, but the track marks down his arms weren’t hard to miss.”

My heart starts to race. “I wonder why Mary, the foster mother, isn’t the one answering the door?”

“That I have no idea about.”

“What did you say to him?”

Jake wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer. “I told him I was selling tickets to a local fundraiser. I asked him if he was interested in buying any or donating money.”

Thoughts of a little girl stuck in a house where a grown man is openly using drugs consume my mind. No wonder Milo’s frightened. How he knew something was wrong is beyond me.

“Hey.” He gently squeezes my shoulder. “We’ll figure something out. I promise.”

I swallow back the lump in my throat, doing everything in my power to keep from crying. “Thank you, Jake.”

I rest my head on his shoulder, allowing his scent to invade my nose, the same smell I’m growing addicted to. The same smell I seek out on the pillow next to mine long after he’s left my apartment. The same smell that almost makes me feel…safe.

“We’re actually scheduled in court on the same day.” I jump when I hear Caleb’s voice behind me.

“Shit, don’t sneak up on me.”

He frowns. “I didn’t. Maybe you should stop living in your own fucking head and fix whatever the fuck is wrong with you.” Caleb rolls his eyes at me when I glare at him. “Seriously, is this attitude still about the football player?”

Just like Cassie, I’ve kept the last few weeks with Jake a secret from everyone. I love how he shows up at my apartment. Truth be told, I’ve grown to look forward to seeing him as the weekend rolls around, but I’m still not ready to admit my feelings to Jake—or anyone else for that matter.

“I was actually thinking about a little girl living in foster care out in Queens.”

Jake told me he was going to see what he could do to help Cassie, whatever that means. Meanwhile, I called the local police again, only to be told the same thing. How Jake could smell pot so quickly when the police can’t find anything wrong, baffles me.

“You were given a foster care case?”

“No,” I grumble, knowing I’ve already opened a door I should have kept closed.

“I had a man stop me and tell me his granddaughter was in trouble, but I can’t seem to find anything wrong.”

“Lace, what were you thinking?”

We were schooled by our firm to never take on a case that wasn’t assigned to us. Working in pro bono, you’ll find thousands of people looking for lawyers who can’t afford to pay. However, there’s a system in place, and begging a lawyer outside the courtroom isn’t something our firm tolerates.

“I don’t know, okay?”

I can’t tell Caleb the truth, that Milo followed me around, that he scared the ever-loving shit out of me on more than one occasion, or he’d flip out even more than he already has.

“Lace, call social services. Tell them whatever it is you know and let them handle it. Nothing good will come from you playing detective.”

“We’re talking about a two-year-old little girl, Caleb. What if she is in some kind of trouble?”

“Then make the call. Let the proper authorities take care of it but, Lace, that person is not you.”

“I already have,” I mumble.

“Then wash your hands of this. You’ve done all you can.”

“Fine,” I whisper, my voice barely detectable.

“Good. Come on, we can ride to the courthouse together.”

I follow Caleb out to the underground parking garage while my mind remains focused on Cassie.

“What have you decided about Girard?” he questions the second I’m trapped inside his car.

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

“Why is it so hard to admit you have feelings for him?”

When I glance at Caleb, the concern I see on his face is evident. “I have feelings for him. There…are you happy?” I snap.

His eyes widen before he gives me a huge smile. “Yes, I’m unbelievably happy.”

I shake my head and turn my eyes toward the window.

“Have you told Jordan yet?”

“Told her what?”

“That you’re dating her man’s best friend?”

“No,” I shout. “And we’re not dating. We’re just seeing each other.”

“You’re still seeing him, huh?” he playfully questions.

Lady Gaga’s new song comes on the radio. I lean forward and turn the volume up, making it clear I’m done with our conversation.