I’ll Always Be With You (Lancaster Prep Book 4)

ONCE WE’RE INSIDE, we make our order and then find a table that’s in the back of the coffee shop, a quiet little corner with a small round table and two chairs. West heads back to the counter to wait for our drinks and I check my phone, frowning when I see I have a bunch of texts from my mother.

Where did you go?

Carolina! Call me back.

Text me NOW.

I’m going to call your father and tell him what you did. What you SAID.

You ungrateful little brat. You’re lucky I don’t demand you come home with me and homeschool you the rest of your senior year.

I tap at my screen and hit the block button with a trembling finger, knowing that will only piss her off more, but I need to save my sanity if she’s going to keep this up.

Then I immediately text my father.

Me: Mother and I got into an argument.

He responds immediately.

Father: I already heard. Where are you?

Of course, she already told him about it.

Me: Promise not to tell her?

Father: I’ll just let her know you’re safe. I won’t tell her where you are or who you’re with.

I’m sure she assumes I ran off with someone from school. Maybe even West, especially since he never reappeared in the restaurant. I wonder if she noticed?

Me: I’m safe. I’m at a coffeeshop waiting for an Uber.

Father: Are you alone?

I think about telling him I’m with West, and then decide not to.

Me: Yes. My ride should be here soon and I’m going back to campus. Please don’t make me go home with her. She says she wants to homeschool me.

Father: Your mother would rather die than have to teach you guys anything. She’s as dumb as a stick.

He sends a bunch of laughing emojis, which makes me both smile and feel bad.

He really thinks our mother is that dumb? Why did he marry her then? What does that say about him?

Father: Don’t worry. You’re staying at Lancaster Prep. I’ll make sure of it.

Me: Thank you.

Father: Love you, sweetheart.

I don’t respond that I love him too. It’s not easy for me to use those words, and I never say them in a careless manner. I need to mean it, and I rarely do. There are very few people in this world who I actually love. My father is one of them. I just …

I’m not comfortable saying it.

“Here you go.” West appears in front of the table clutching two steaming coffee cups in his hands. He sets one in front of me and I can’t help but smile when I see the heart design in the foam of my vanilla latte.

“It’s so cute.” I glance up at him. “Thank you.”

He settles into the chair across from me, his knees knocking into mine. “You’re welcome.”

I take a sip from my cup, but it’s so hot I immediately burn my tongue. “Watch out. it’s hot.”

“Noted.” He leans back in his chair, contemplating me, his gaze assessing. “Are you okay? Feeling a little better?”

I shrug. “Not really.” Though he’s making it better. Not that I can say that to him out loud. I don’t want him getting any ideas.

“What happened?”

I shrug, reluctant to share the details of my horrible conversation with my mother.

I can’t even think about what my mother said to me. Did she mean all of that? And is it true? If it is, does that mean I’ve been lied to my entire life and I’m just a shit dancer? Someone they tolerate merely because my family pays a lot of money to keep me in dance? And in turn pays them a lot of money to make me happy?

That’s so fucked up.

“Does it have to do with your mom?” His expression darkens when I remain quiet. “Or did Mercedes say something to you?”

“Mercedes? No. I didn’t talk to her.” I shake my head. I forgot she was even at the restaurant. “It was my mother. We got into an argument.”

“Ah.” He nods, like he understands. And maybe he does. “I always argue with my dad when we’re together.”

“For me, it’s my mother. For all of us, really. My brother and sister, too. My dad, even though they’re divorced.” I wince. “She’s … a lot.”

We’re quiet for a moment and I try to take another sip from my drink, blowing on it first. It’s disconcerting, how carefully West is watching me, and I’m tempted to start wiggling in my chair when he finally says something.

“I’m sorry she upset you.”

“It’s okay,” I croak, swallowing past the thick emotion suddenly clogging my throat. I rarely receive sympathy from anyone. I’m only stating facts, because I never let anyone see me like this. “She’s just watching out for me.”

That’s actually not the case, and I don’t know why I’m making excuses for her. But I definitely can’t tell West what she said to me. It’ll make him look at me different, when that’s the last thing I want to happen.

“When they do shit like this, our parents claim they’re watching out for us, but they’re really only making things worse. Or just protecting themselves.” His tone is bitter and he takes a big swig from his coffee mug, leaving a film of latte foam on his upper lip when he’s done.

I point at his mouth, a giggle escaping me. And I never giggle. “You’ve got something on your upper lip.”

He sticks out his tongue, licking at the corner of his mouth, and something warm and thick unfurls in my stomach—actually, make that lower. “You want to lick it off for me?”

“Ew, no.” I shake my head. Lying through my teeth.

“You probably would’ve a month ago.” He grabs a napkin and wipes at his mouth, the foam disappearing with one swipe. “Look, I feel bad.”

“About what?” I glance around the café, relieved to find it’s not very crowded. It’s so nice in here though. Quiet, with the jazz music playing in the background, mixed with the sound of low chatter. It smells good and the coffee is delicious, meaning I’ll have to come back here soon. Maybe Sadie would go with me.

Sadie … I didn’t even make eye contact with her at the restaurant, though I know she was there. With Brent. This is huge. Major. He brought her along with him to hang out with his friends, and I love that for her. I really do.

I also wish I could have that. With a boy.

With West.

“I pushed you away and it was fucked up on my part. I was going through a lot of shit at the time and I was totally being selfish. I think I hurt myself more than I hurt you.” He ducks his head for a moment, staring deeply into his cup of coffee before he lifts his gaze to mine. “Or maybe I did hurt you more. I don’t know. I just feel shitty about it and I’m sorry. I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

“What thing?”

“Caring about someone else. A girl. Relationships.” He shrugs, his gaze fixed on his coffee mug again. “Thinking about other people’s feelings.”

I can relate, though I’m not sure if I can tell him that. I don’t worry about anyone else. I don’t like anyone else. Not really. I tolerate my family because I have to. I made so-called friends in dance school because I needed to align myself with the proper group. The only people I can actually say I like currently are Sadie and …

West.

And I’m mad at him, so the vote is still out on that opinion.

“You’re all I think about,” he admits, his searing gaze returning to mine. “I can’t get you out of my head, and it fucks with everything I try to do. Every decision I make. You fucking haunt my thoughts, Carolina. What are you doing? What’s going on in your life? I never see you in the dining hall anymore.”

“I don’t like it there.”

“I see you in our one class and that’s it, and you sit in the back of the room on purpose. You buzz in at the last second before the bell rings, and before I can even get my book in my backpack when class is over, you’re already gone.”

I didn’t think he noticed.

“I don’t want to keep going on like this.” He leans forward, resting his arms on the edge of the table, his knees bumping into mine again, making my skin tingle. Any time we make contact with each other, I feel it. Even his eyes on me feel like the stroke of his fingers. “I fucked everything up between us and I want to make it up to you.”

I sit up straighter, my posture rigid, a shuddery breath escaping me. What he’s asking for, I don’t think I can deliver. “I don’t do relationships either, West.”

He stares at me, absently shredding the napkin with his fingers. “Okay.”

“And I’m leaving. As soon as we graduate, I’m going back to London.” I have no idea if that’s actually part of my plan, but I’m going to make some calls starting tomorrow. I can’t trust my mother or my father to take care of it for me.

I have to handle my future on my own.

“I’m leaving too,” he admits. “I have to go to California and help my father.”

“You’re not going to college?” That’s something we’ve never really discussed before. I have no idea what West’s goals and dreams for the future are.

“No. I can’t. My dad needs me, so I guess I’ll be getting an endless amount of hands-on experience. Family business, you know?” His smile is grim and I can tell.

He doesn’t want to go to California to help his father.

“Are you okay with that? Is that what you want to do?”

“Sure.” His smile is false as he takes another drink of his coffee. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t think we want, but it’ll all work out in the end, right?”

I swallow hard, hating how resolute he sounds. As if he’s accepting his fate, even if he doesn’t like it. “You don’t have to do what other people tell you all the time.”

“I do when it comes to my father. I don’t have a trust fund set up in my name that’ll take care of me for the rest of my life. I am the only heir to this business, which means I get it all, but that’s a lot of pressure, and he wants me to work at the House of Fontaine. There are certain … expectations set on me that I have to live up to.”

It’s an automatic reflex when I willingly reach out and touch his hand, my fingers streaking across his knuckles. He turns his hand over, palm up and I let him grasp my fingers, keeping me there. For once, I don’t try to pull out of his grip. Instead, I let my hand relax in his, and when his gaze meets mine, my heart starts to race.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he murmurs, and I frown, confused at his choice of words. “Let’s make the best of it while we’re here. Together.”

We have the rest of the school year. Yeah, it’ll go fast and next thing we know, we’ll be graduating and out of high school forever, but is that what he means?

“What are you trying to say, West?”

He ducks his head for a moment, suddenly bashful, which is the most un-West-like thing I’ve ever seen him do to date. “Let’s try and make this—” he waves a finger in between us “—work.”

I’m quiet for a moment, absorbing his words.

“Are you saying you want to be with me? That you want other people to know that we’re together?” I need it spelled out plainly before I agree to anything.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat, and I wonder if that was hard for him to admit. “I mean, we don’t have to come right out, if you don’t want to. We can keep this quiet. It’s nobody else’s business what we do.”

“Are you wanting to keep me a secret?” My voice is sharp, and I can’t help but take offense at what he’s saying. Though, deep down, I also think I get it.

Letting people in … letting them know we’re trying to be a thing, could end up being a lot. We’ll draw unwanted attention, and I’ll probably gain more enemies.

Not that anyone was really on my side to begin with at this school.

“No, not at all.” He shakes his head, his expression stressed. “I just—people suck. They’re nosy. They’ll spread rumors and speculate about our relationship. It’ll get around to everyone, you know? Staff, admin. Everyone.”

Everyone like my mother, thanks to the plant she has somewhere on campus. Though I’m pretty positive there are multiple plants collecting information for her.

Knowing her, that’s exactly what she’s doing.

Just the idea of every single person at Lancaster Prep knowing I’m in a relationship, thinking about what I’m doing with West when we’re all alone is …

Scary.

“I’m a very private person,” I say primly, trying to pull my hand out of his.

He won’t let go. He even goes as far as to interlace our fingers together, our clasped hands resting in the middle of the tiny table. “I know. That’s what I like about you.”

He smiles at me, another one of those sweet smiles that are so very much not like the West I’ve gotten to know.

“This is going to be … weird for me.”

“It’ll be weird for me too. I’ve never really had a girlfriend before.”

“You haven’t?” I’m shocked by his confession.

He slowly shakes his head, his thumb skimming back and forth across the top of my hand, soothing me. “How about you?”

“I’ve never had a girlfriend either,” I say with a straight face.

He presses his thumb against the top of my hand hard, making me laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“Then no, I’ve never been in a relationship. I’m not sure I’m built for one.” When his troubled gaze meets mine, I feel the need to explain further. “I just want to be honest with you.”

A ragged sigh leaves him, but he smiles. “Yeah, same. I don’t know if I’m cut out for this either. I guess we’ll just figure it out together.”

Together.

I like the sound of that.