I wrapped my arms around my body, feeling cold without his arms around me. Then I walked down the hall and up the stairs. As I laid down on my mother's bed, my mind started to spin once more, and it wasn't just the drug I'd inhaled making me dizzy, it was everything else in my life. Maybe Dani was right. I should have gone home before I'd gotten hurt. But it was too late to go back. I'd gotten hurt, and I had the feeling there was a lot more pain headed my way.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I woke up Sunday morning with a pounding headache. As I'd predicted, I hadn't slept well, tossing and turning most of the night as my dad's words ran around on a loop in my head. Now it was time to get some answers. It was only eight and the house was quiet, so I took a shower and changed into jeans and a sweater before going downstairs. As always, Kade had made coffee. This morning, he was also making breakfast.

"Morning," he said, as he scrambled eggs. "I decided to use up what your mom had in her fridge."

"You cook. That's impressive."

"Not really. I cook just well enough not to starve."

"Have you seen my father?"

"Checked on him a few minutes ago; he was still asleep."

"Well, I guess that's better than finding out he snuck out in the middle of the night."

"I thought about that," Kade said. "I looked in on him a couple of times, but I didn't think he was in any condition to leave, and he didn't."

"I'm going to see if he's awake." I walked down the hall into the living room. As Kade had said, my dad was asleep and snoring heavily. I returned to the kitchen and sat down at the counter as Kade put a plate in front of me. "He's still out."

"Then you can eat."

"You're very good at feeding me," I said with appreciation.

"I was hungry, too."

I didn't have much of an appetite, dreading the conversation that I knew was coming, but I managed to eat my eggs and sip some coffee. And then my phone buzzed. "It's the investigator," I said, putting the call on speaker as I answered. "Hello, Jeremy. Do you have any news?"

"Yes. The charity that was sending Mr. Beckham's mother money doesn't exist. There is no nonprofit group by that name anywhere in this country. No evidence of a business license, a bank account, nothing. It's a fabrication."

"My mother was just sending his mom cash on her own?"