Playing Fate (Endgame Series #1) - Leigh Ann Lunsford Page 0,1

smile droops into a frown, her eyes devoid of the pride they had shown a minute ago.

“Saylor, if you want to go, I’ll find a way.” Jack reaches over and covers her hand.

“Nina . . .” As he gazes at my mom, his eyes show the depth of his love for her. He’s a lovesick fool. “We’ll handle it.”

“It’s too late.” I need to stop this train wreck. We’ve worked too hard to throw it away for an out of state school. If they don’t work out, she’ll have this financial burden . . . once again. “I missed the deadline for dorm rooms, so I don’t have anywhere to live.”

“Saylor, there are plenty of college kids who rent places. I’m sure we can find roommates or whatever you need. I have the money; it’s yours as well as your mom’s. We’re a family.” That’s the thing about Jack . . . you can’t help but love him. He doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body, yet he isn’t a doormat, either. He loves my mom, and by default . . . me. I just cringe at the word ‘family.’ It doesn’t mean the same thing to me.

“Then it’s settled.” My mom kisses him sweetly, her cheery personality back.

“Thank you, Jack.” I swallow the bile and plaster on a smile. I’m not ungrateful; I know how lucky we got. I just don’t ever want to owe anyone anything . . . it destroys everything.

The house found by my mom, roommates screened by Jack, bags packed by myself. I take another look at the information my mom gave me three days ago as I started this road trip. Emberlee Winchester and Avery Michaels are the names she wrote down; apparently I am sharing this house with them. I look at the luxury cars again and decide to take the plunge, meet the people I’m living with.

I relax my stance as I head up the walkway. I can’t be classified as a people person. Since I left my life in New Mexico, I haven’t forged deep relationships. I was a loner by nature, even though I longed to fit in. I’m a regular oxymoron. Olivia was the one person who understood me, but moving so far and restrictions the first years with computer time . . . it wasn’t conducive to our friendship. Like most, we drifted, and now we have the relationship where we click ‘like’ on the occasional Facebook post.

I knock, and as I wait for it to be answered, I chastise myself. I live here; my rent has been paid, so why am I knocking like a guest? The door flies open, and I’m staring at a supermodel. Long hair, chestnut in color, flows over her shoulders and down her back. It has the ‘I just came from the beach’ waves I’d kill for, and against her translucent skin and green eyes, I’m envious. Shit! I’m sharing a house with this creature . . . I hope she has a serious boyfriend because I can imagine the frat guys she will attract. I don’t want a revolving door here. I’m here for an education. Her smile is forced, and her eyes are narrowed. “I’m Saylor Lewis. Your roommate.” I sound like a damn salesperson.

“Emberlee,” she says, her voice devoid of welcoming cheer. She turns, calling out down the hall, “Avery, the new chick is here.” I blow out a breath; this should be fun. My foot crosses the threshold as another beauty queen comes into view.

“Hi. You’re Saylor?” Her black hair is full of curls and pulled into a loose ponytail. Her face is flawless, and her dark brown eyes seem to dance with lightness. Emberlee with her superstar looks but not the height to pull off the runway—both of us could be considered short. Avery is average height but so fucking gorgeous.

“Yes.” I try to shake her hand, and her laughter trills as she pulls me into a hug.

“Honey, we’re Midwesterners, no hand shaking here. Maybe some ass grabbing and definitely lots of hugging.” I’m not from a touchy-feely family; hugs and gestures of emotion are reserved for achievements and condolences, not for greetings.

“Okay.” I pull out of her arms, and she is still smiling at me.

“Ignore Lee Lee. She can be a bit snooty.” My eyebrows furrow, and she’s lost me in this conversation. “Emberlee. I call her Lee Lee. Everyone does. Her bark is worse than her bite. I’ll show you your room, and then