I gape at her. “Did you just confess to trying to kill Steve?” Oh man. Where’s a recorder when you need it?

She lifts her chin as if she’s proud of her actions. “Watch yourself, Princess. When it comes to children, I’m a big believer in the saying seen but not heard. As long as you stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of yours.”

I don’t believe her, not for a hot second. She’s going to get some serious pleasure out of tormenting me now that I live under her roof. And was that comment about the gun a threat? Holy hell.

“Watch yourself,” Dinah says again, then flounces out of my room and closes the door behind her.

I stay in bed. There’s no point in getting up and locking the door when I know that any keycard can open the darn thing.

Taking a breath, I shut off the light and close my eyes. Visions of Dinah flashing a gun in my face pop up, along with ones of Reed behind bars.

Sleep is elusive.

* * *

Don’t lose ur temper with S. Not worth it. He’ll come around.

That’s the text Reed sends me before he leaves for practice on Monday morning, and it’s pretty much the same thing he’s been saying to me this whole weekend.

This whole long, terrible, long, frustrating, long weekend.

Come around, my ass.

Steve has already gotten me fired from my job and decided I’m trying out for a school team—you’d think that would be enough. But nope, it’s not.

Last night, he informed me he was imposing a curfew. I have to be home by ten each evening, and I have to turn on the location finder on my phone so he can keep tabs on me. I’ve already decided that in the future I’ll be leaving my phone at home. There’s no way I’m making it easier for him to find me.

The problem is, this Friday is the Riders’ first playoffs game. Reed was cleared to play, and I desperately want to go because I’ve decided I’m done with Reed’s reluctance. Every day that he’s the prime suspect in Brooke’s case is a day that rattles my sense of security. If we’re supposed to act normally, if we’re supposed to at least pretend that all is well in our lives, then this distance between us should not exist.

It’s time for us to have sex. I don’t care if I have to play dirty to make that happen. So I’m going to seduce him. The away game is the perfect place to do it, and there’s an amusement park thirty minutes away that a bunch of kids were talking about going to. The plan is—or was—to use that as an excuse to stay overnight.

Except now, with Steve’s stupid curfew, I don’t know how I’ll be able to swing it. Hopefully Val can help me figure it out today. But I’m going on that away trip, one way or another.

I finish brushing my hair, tuck my shirt into my skirt, and grab my backpack.

Out in the living room, Steve is lounging on the couch, paging through a newspaper. Doesn’t he ever work?

Dinah is at the dining table, sipping a flute of orange juice. Or maybe it’s a mimosa because I don’t think people use fancy glasses for their OJ.

She eyes me over the rim, a smirk forming on her pouty lips. “That skirt is rather short for school, don’t you think?”

The paper rustles as Steve lowers it. He frowns as he examines my uniform.

I look down at my white shirt, open blue blazer and ugly pleated skirt. “This is my uniform.”

Dinah glances at her husband. “I didn’t realize the headmaster at Astor Park Prep encouraged his female students to dress like whores.”

My jaw drops. First of all, the skirt goes all the way down to my knees. Second of all, who says things like that?

Steve continues to study my skirt. Then he slaps the paper down by his side and glares at me. “Go back to your room and change.”

I glare right back. “This is my uniform,” I repeat. “If you don’t like it, take it up with Beringer.”

He points a finger at my legs. “You can wear pants. I’m certain that in this day and age, that’s an option for a school uniform.”

This is a stupid conversation, so I walk toward the door. “I don’t have pants.” Well, actually, I do. But those khaki monstrosities are ugly as hell, no matter that they have a three-hundred-dollar price tag. I’m not putting those things on my body.

“Of course she has pants,” Dinah says, laughing gleefully. “But we all know why she chooses not to wear them. Easier access with a skirt.”

Another frown slashes Steve’s face. “She’s right,” he tells me. “I had my share of fun times with girls in skirts. They’re easy lays. Is that what you want to be? Easy Ella?”

Dinah titters.

I clutch the strap of my backpack and turn the doorknob. If I had a gun, maybe I’d shoot Dinah with it.

“I’m going to school,” I say stiffly. “I’ve already missed one entire day of classes so you could drive around Bayview. I’m not going to be late because you have a problem with my school uniform.”

Steve stomps over and lays his palm on the door. “I’m trying to help you. Girls who put out are disposable. I don’t want that for you.”

I pull the door open with a sharp jerk. “Girls who put out are girls who want to have sex. There’s nothing immoral about that. Or gross. Or deviant. If I choose to have sex, then that’s what’s going to happen. It’s my body.”

“Not while you live in my house,” he thunders, hurrying after me down the hall. Dinah’s laughter follows us all the way to the elevator.

I jab the down button. “Then I’ll move.”

“And I’ll have you hauled back here. Is that what you want?” At my silence, he sighs with frustration. In a softer tone, he says, “I’m not trying to be a bad guy, Ella, but you’re my daughter. What kind of dad would I be if I just let you run around and sleep with your boyfriend?”

“My boyfriend is your best friend’s son,” I remind him. I will the elevator to arrive faster, but it seems to be climbing the forty-four floors one excruciating second at a time.

“I know. Why do you think I’m so anxious about you dating him? Callum’s kids are wild. They’re experienced. That’s not what I want for you.”

“Being a little hypocritical here, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” He throws up his arms. “I don’t deny it. The last thing in the world I want for you is to date the guy I was in high school. I had no respect for girls. All I wanted was to get in their pants, or under their skirts.” He throws a pointed gaze at my hemline. “And once I had them, I moved on.”