Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Eric,” Dad says, his voice suddenly tight. He’s on his feet. “You and Jack come inside now, bud.”
“Dad?”
“Now, Eric.”
Eric and his friend awkwardly skate-walk up the narrow stone path to our house walking up the lane.
“And you, Em,” Dad says, hands on his hips, looking at the car.
Fear has slithered into my throat, almost choking my words. It’s the change in Dad’s demeanor. I realize I’ve never seen him truly scared, but it emanates from him now, almost like a smell. “Dad, what’s wrong?”
“I need to have a conversation with these men.”
Standing, I see a burly man in a white cowboy hat and another even bigger man in a leather vest, his arms covered in tattoos and his chest covered in thick, black hair. Thick, black hair falls around his face, too.
“What? Why?”
“Get inside, Emma!” Dad snaps, turning to me.
I hurry through the door. It’s a reflex. Dad never yells at me. Only a few times can I remember him getting angry when I was a kid, but this isn’t anger. This is panic. Closing the door, I find Mom, Eric, and Jack crowded in the hallway. The boys stand near the window, peering out onto the street.
“What’s going on out there?” Mom says.
“I don’t know. Some guys pulled up. Dad seems scared.”
Mom’s eyes register recognition, and then she’s in Mother Hen mode, hurrying us out of the hallway toward the rear of the house to the kitchen. She waves her hands and flaps at us. Then, when I turn to look, she gently touches my elbow. “I’ve got a pie for everybody. Come on. Let’s not disturb your father’s business.”
In the kitchen, when Eric and Jack are shoveling pie into their mouths, I tell her quietly, “You know what’s going on, don’t you, Mom?”
She swallows and shoots me a look. “It’s work-related, dear. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“If something bad is happening, I deserve to know.” Especially now, it’s not just myself I have to worry about. “Those men looked dangerous and scary. How is that work-related?”
“Dangerous-looking and scary-looking men are still human beings.”
“How is that an answer to what I just asked?”
We cut our conversation short when Dad appears in the large doorway, hands on his hips, a false smile on his face. He’s curved his lips into the correct shape but can’t hide the panic in his eyes. “Whoa, she let you eat the pie early?”
Eric grins, mouth red from berries. “I know, right? Jackpot.”
“I want in. Could a fine young lady get me a spoon?” Dad winks at Mom, and Mom rolls her eyes, walking to the drawer.
I sit at the edge of the bar, trying not to chew my fingernails. Whatever happened outside wasn’t good. Dad’s acting like nothing’s wrong, but he can’t stop his boot from tapping against the foot railing. When he scoops the pie, his spoon rattles against the bowl.
“Was everything okay with your work stuff outside, Dad?” Eric asks once he’s done with his pie.
Dad widens his artificial smile. “All good, champ. Just had to settle a few things up.”
I can’t sit here and pretend anymore, but I also can’t imagine causing a scene right now. I can’t imagine demanding that Dad tell the truth. We’re just not that sort of family. We’ve never had big screaming blowouts. Okay, once or twice, but it’s rare. Dad wants to play make-believe, and Mom’s going along with it.
“I’ve got some college work to do,” I say, keeping my eyes on Dad. “I’ll see you all later. Nice to see you, Jack.”
“And you, Emma,” Jack replies.
Dad swallows, meets my eye, then quickly returns to staring into his bowl. I go upstairs and lie on my bed. I intend to do some more work, but I return to my position from last night, staring at my phone on the side table and waiting for it to ring.
When it does, I answer it quickly without looking at the number. My whole body is racing with my speeding heartbeat, a flutter that shrouds me in warm tingles. Even if we might fight again, just the idea of speaking to him makes me feel like that.
“Emma?” It’s Chrissy. She slurs my name, but she’s speaking urgently. “Are you there?”
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Just… I’m at a party, and there are these guys. I got a ride here. I don’t know. I don’t really want to be here.”
“Has anything happened?” I ask.
“Not yet, but they’re getting more drunk. Some girls are doing stuff like they want to, which is fine. They’ve started asking me and some others, and we don’t want to. I just… This isn’t my sort of party.”
“I’ll come to get you right now. Drop me a pin, Chrissy. I’m on my way.”
“Thank you, E. Really.”
“Always.”
It’s almost refreshing not to think about myself, the baby, or Logan. I have a clear purpose as I pull on my jeans, hoodie, and boots. Get my friend from what is probably a frat house, sober her up, and be there for her.