The Good Girls Read Online Free PDF Page A

you—not even your pinky toe—that could be considered disgusting.”
    Then, amazingly, Carson tipped his head forward and brushed her lips with his. Julie didn’t even believe it was happening until a few seconds in, when her numbness subsided and she actually felt his lips on hers. They were kissing. Really kissing.
    And then it hit her: This was her first kiss, ever. Not quite how she pictured it, of course—in her bathrobe, on her wretched front porch, in full view of the broken patio furniture and multitudes of Christmas decorations and even a couple of random cat scratching posts on the lawn. But it was a pure, sweet, sensual kiss all the same.
    When it was over, Carson leaned back and smiled graciously at her. “Thank you,” he breathed.
    â€œI should be thanking you ,” Julie said. “Are you sure about this? About . . . me ? Because, I mean, you have no idea how cruel people can be. It’s going to be brutal. It’s okay if you don’t want to be associated with me. I understand.”
    He waved his hand. “I don’t care.”
    She blinked hard. “You’re . . . sure ?”
    â€œWell,” he said with mock seriousness, “that depends. It’s my understanding that you yourself are not the Crazy Cat Lady of Beacon Heights. Is that correct?”
    Julie couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “That’s correct,” she replied with a weak smile. “I’m simply an innocent bystander to the cat collecting.”
    â€œThen it’s settled. You are officially absolved of all responsibility for this”—Carson pointed at the house behind her, his eyebrows bunched together as he searched for the appropriate word—“um . . . situation. . . . And you are officially my girlfriend—if you want to be, that is. Anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me.”
    Julie beamed at him. She couldn’t believe her eyes, her ears . . . or her heart. And just like that, every horrible thing her mother had said to her receded into the background. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t damaged goods after all. Maybe she was okay—someone worth caring for. Someone worth loving, even.
    More than anything on earth, Julie wanted to believe Carson was right.

CHAPTER THREE
    MONDAY AFTERNOON, CAITLIN MARTELL-LEWIS PULLED into a lot that was empty except for a boatlike green Cadillac under a canopy of trees. When she got out of her own car, her ears rang with the peaceful silence, and her nose twitched with the scent of freshly cut grass and newly planted flowers. She looked beyond the wrought iron gates and into the rolling hills peppered with tombstones. Suddenly she heard a sound behind a tree, and her heart seized. For some reason, she felt like she was being tailed . . . maybe by the cops. Was she? Were they following all of them around, trying to find something that might link them to Granger’s death?
    But then she looked again. It was just a squirrel.
    Sighing, Caitlin locked her car, pocketed her keys, and made her way to her brother’s grave. She could probably doit blindfolded at this point—pass the headstone with the big angels on top of it, a right at the guy who was buried next to his two Italian greyhounds, and then up the little hill and under the tree. Hey, Taylor, began the monologue in her head. It’s me again. Your crazy sister, skipping soccer practice, here to vent about how crazy my life has become.
    There was so much she had to tell Taylor, who’d passed away at the end of last year . . . and so much she wished he could tell her, stuff she would never get to know. Like how much he suffered at Nolan Hotchkiss’s hands, or why he’d decided it would be easier to die than to show his sweet face at school for just one more day. Had there been a final straw? Caitlin would probably never forgive herself for not seeing the signs in him sooner. If she had, would he still be