SAMANTHA
Call me a vindictive b***h; I don’t care.
But when Mason told me what they did and what they’d found out from Adam, I went the extra mile. I called Becky, told her Adam had showed up at our place with a plan to see her afterwards to “make up.” I told her about the condom, because every girl enjoys knowing she’s an assumed sure thing. Then I followed that by letting her know he hadn’t just “dropped by” our place. He’d broken in because he wanted to plant a spying malware program on Mason’s computer. I ended the call with a warning not to let him anywhere near her computer.
And thinking about that call now—how Becky had been beyond pissed—gave me an extra boost of speed on my run.
It’d been two weeks since Raelynn’s accident, and a week since our latest run-in with Adam. Everyth
