Lucky Girl by Jamie Pacton (novels for beginners txt) 📕

Bran snorts. “Not really my style. Plus, I think Sofie would kill me if I killed you.”

“Don’t laugh,” I say. “It’s way more common than you would think. I’ve been compiling tragic stories from lotto winners, and you wouldn’t believe some of this stuff.” I reach into my backpack, pull out my notebook, and hand it to Bran.

“I’ve been reading about those sorts of things too,” Bran says. He skims some of the entries. A low whistle leaves his mouth. “Yeah, this is all pretty terrible. Did you hear about David Edwards?”

“The ex-con who won less than half as much money as me; blew it all on luxury cars, drugs, and terrible business ideas; and ended up living in a storage unit surrounded by human feces? Classic lotto-winner hard fail.”

Bran turns to another page in the notebook. “Oh, this one is bad too: William ‘Bud’ Post the Third. His own brother hired a hit man to kill him, and he was bankrupt one year after winning sixteen million. Damn.”

“It’s really terrible,” I say, flipping through the other entries. “I cannot tell you how stressful it’s been to keep this secret. Like, everyone in town is going to hate me when they find out.”

“Not if they don’t find out until you’re ready,” Bran says. “I promise, not only will I not hire a hit man to kill you so I can take the money, I’ll also help you figure out what to do with it.”

Before I can hug him or dissolve into a puddle of mushy tears over what an amazing best friend he is, my phone beeps, letting me know I have a text.

I open it and nearly drop the phone.

“Oh, shit.”

Bran takes the phone from me. “What is it?”

“Holden. He wants to talk. He says he knows I’m the winner.”

I show him the message.

Bran scowls as he reads it. “He’s bluffing. Don’t go meet up with him.”

I know Bran’s right, but maybe Holden has an explanation for all this. Maybe there’s a chance it’ll be okay? Maybe it’s not as bad as it sounds. For the sake of everything we once had, I can at least hear him out. Right?

I read the message again.

“I’m going to meet him,” I decide. “Just to find out what he knows.”

“Well, if you’re going, then I’m coming with you,” says Bran. “Moral support and all.” It’s an echo of what I told him when he first did the interview.

I pause, weighing my options. There’s really no reason for Bran not to come with me.

“I’d like that,” I say. “Thank you, wonderful best friend. When I figure out how to cash this ticket, I’ll give you millions.”

Bran smiles. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Let’s deal with Holden first.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

WE’RE QUIET ON THE RIDE OVER TO MY HOUSE. MY BRAIN IS A whirlpool, churning away with possible scenarios. But there’s no use talking about them until we know what Holden knows.

I let out a long, shaky breath as Bran pulls into the driveway. Mom’s truck is gone, but Holden’s car is already there. He gets out when he sees us, and he even has the audacity to wave.

“You okay?” Bran asks. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just nervous. And angry.” I drum my fingers on the dashboard.

“Want me to come with you?” Bran glares at Holden, who’s now standing by the broken garden gate.

I take another breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “No. Stay in the car for now. Let me talk to Holden first.”

“Fine. But I’m right here. Yell if you need anything.”

I squeeze his arm. “Thank you.”

“You’ve got this,” says Bran.

I’m not sure I do, but I get out of the car anyway and walk toward the gate. I don’t say a word as I storm past Holden and sit down on a clear spot on the porch steps.

Holden is wearing an all-black outfit, and his hair is tied back in a man bun, which somehow is not a terrible look on him. He navigates his way through the junk in the yard and sits down next to me. He bounces his leg up and down, like he always does when he’s anxious about something.

“What do you want to talk about?” I say, scooting as far away from him as I can.

“You’re the lotto winner, right?” He turns to me, a gleam in his eyes.

“How do you know that?”

Holden scoffs. “Jane. Honestly. It wasn’t hard to figure out. You broke into Wanda’s. You destroyed the tape. Just be honest: Did you buy the winning ticket or not?”

There’s really no way I can deny it. Not since he saw everything that happened at Wanda’s.

“Yes.”

Holden lets out a long breath and leans back on his forearms like he’s been knocked over.

“Shit. Jane. Fifty-eight million dollars?”

“I know.” I shake my head, still disbelieving that much money is in the world, much less that it could be mine. Possibly.

“What are you going to do with it? Buy your own golden toilet?”

I snort, aching a bit at how silly that joke had seemed on the lake and how it cuts differently now. “I don’t know. I can’t cash the ticket because I bought it as a minor, so I’m going to find someone to cash it for me, I guess.”

Holden sits up, his body a lightning rod. “I can cash it for you.”

I shake my head at that, though, of course, I’d been considering it for days. “Why would I trust you with this? You broke up with me, remember?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t owe you anything. And I thought I could trust you with my heart. Which you also broke. Why would I give you the ticket?”

“But I thought we were getting along again. What about the lake? Or the House on the Rock?”

“I overheard you and Banks talking in the corn maze. Remember that? When you basically admitted that you were just hanging out with