Chapter 1

"I don't know her."

In court, he looked at me like I was a complete stranger.

I froze.

I had carried his debt for five years.

My credit score was wrecked for five years. I couldn't buy a house. I couldn't lease a car. I couldn't even get a credit card.

And him? He sat at the defendant's table in a one-dollar suit and gold-rimmed glasses. He looked as innocent as a choirboy.

"Your Honor, I really don't know her."

I squeezed the guarantee contract in my hand. My nails dug into my palms.

His name was right there. Black ink on white paper.

My little brother's name.

*****

Five years ago, I had no idea what it meant to be a co-signer.

Back then, I'd only been working for three years, making three thousand dollars a month. I was renting a tiny studio apartment in the city, saving one thousand dollars every month, dreaming that in a few years, I'd finally be able to afford a down payment on a house.

I was working overtime when Michael Carter called.

"Hailey, I want to open a shop," he said.

He sounded so excited, like he'd just stumbled onto the business opportunity of a lifetime.

"What kind of shop?" I asked.

"A coffee shop. I did my research—there's a brand new mall opening up nearby, and the place is packed. I'm going in with a friend. It's a sure thing, no way we can lose," he said.

I set my work aside and glanced at the time in the corner of my laptop screen. It was already 10:23 PM.

"How much do you need?" I asked.

"Two hundred ninety thousand dollars," he replied.

I almost dropped my phone.

"Are you crazy? What's your monthly salary anyway?" I blurted out.

"Hailey, just hear me out..." he said.

He launched into his business plan, explaining all about foot traffic, profit margins, and how he'd break even in three years. He sounded so confident, like he'd figured it all out.

Honestly, I wasn't really listening.

"Michael, I don't have that much," I said.

"I know, Hailey," he said after a moment. "I'm not asking you for money."

"Then what do you want from me?" I asked.

"I'm trying to get a loan from the bank, but I need a co-signer," he replied.

I fell silent.

"Just sign your name, you won't have to spend a dime," he went on. "Hailey, I promise I'll pay it back. Give me two years, max, and I'll pay it all off."

"But being a co-signer means you're on the hook too," I said. "If you can't pay it back..."

"How could I possibly not pay it back?" he cut me off. "Hailey, don't you trust me?"

"It's not that I don't trust you..." I started.

"You've always been like this," he said, his voice suddenly tinged with hurt. "You never believe I can do anything right."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Then I heard Mom's voice in the background. "Give me the phone."

Then Mom's voice came through, sounding just as entitled as ever. "Hailey, Michael wants to start his own business. What's wrong with helping him out? That's what sisters are for."

"Mom, two hundred ninety thousand dollars is no small amount..." I said.

"It's not like we're asking you to pay anything. Just sign your name," Mom said, her voice tinged with impatience. "If Michael really makes it big, you'll have something to brag about too, right?"

I gripped my phone, staring at the endless rows of numbers on my computer screen.

"Let me think about it," I said.

"What's there to think about?" Mom's voice rose sharply. "Michael's only asking for this one thing, and you can't even do that? All those years we paid for your college, and now you can't even help him out by just signing for him?"

Paid for your college.

I swallowed the words that were on the tip of my tongue.

I spent five years paying off my student loans—every penny came out of my own pocket.

I gave in. "Fine," I said. "I'll sign."

The moment I agreed, both Michael and Mom started talking at once.

"Thanks, Hailey!" Michael said.

"That's more like it," Mom said.

I headed home for the weekend.

Michael handed me the contract—a thick stack of papers, every page packed with tiny print.

"Hailey, sign here," he said, flipping to the last page and pointing at a line.

I looked at the spot for the co-signer's signature.

"Can I read it first?" I asked.

"What's there to read?" Mom said, rolling her eyes. "It's an official bank contract. You really think they'd fake anything?"

Still, I started reading from page one.

Michael stood off to the side, nervously rubbing his hands on his pants, looking a bit impatient.

The contract spelled it out in black and white: if the borrower couldn't pay back the loan on time, the co-signer would have joint responsibility for the entire debt.

"Michael," I said, looking up at him. "If you can't pay it back, then I'll be stuck with that two hundred ninety thousand."

"Hailey, don't worry," he said, his eyes full of sincerity. "I promise I'll pay it back. No way I'd let you shoulder the blame for me."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Definitely," he said, tapping his chest. "I promise."

I met his gaze and remembered how, when he was little, he'd run after me, calling my name.

Then I signed my name.