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)
“So we’re going to have dinner in his room,” I go on.
Chrissy nods, a soft smile on her lips. “This is great. You were scared he wouldn’t be interested, but look what he did. He left his team and followed you. Whoa, I said followed you like it was romantic, but it’s kind of weird. I don’t know.”
I can tell she’s flustered. She snaps her hairband on her wrist. She developed that habit in high school soon after her dad left her mom. I reach over and gently remove the band, as I have before. “I get where you’re coming from.”
She interlocks her fingers. “So, don’t make me waste my break for nothing, girl. What are you going to do?”
“Are you sure you want to talk about this? After last night…”
“Trust me, that’s the last thing I want to talk or think about. No, feed me with the drama of your life, please.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what we’d even tell Dad. Lying to him is getting so hard, though. Or, not lying, but just being near him, knowing there’s a bunch of stuff he should know. It’s like hurting him on purpose. Willfully doing it.”
“So tell him…”
“Tell him what?” I say.
“He’s going to learn about the baby soon anyway.”
“Soon, as in months. That’s a lot of time to…”
“To what, E?”
“To think of a better way to handle this!” I wave my hands, then lower them. “I’m so sorry. First, I don’t take you to the hospital right away. Now this. Unloading.”
“Hey, look. I’m here. I’m fine. Just because something bad happened to me and something evil almost happened doesn’t mean you have to treat me like I’m made of glass, right?”
I nod. “I’m tired of feeling like a terrible daughter. Everything I want to do will make me an even worse daughter. Every time Logan and I are…” I clear my throat. “Intimate.”
Chrissy grins, a flash of her usual self pressing through her tired features. “I’m so proud of you, girl. You’re normally so shy.”
My cheeks flush. “That was pretty tame compared to the stuff I was saying last night.”
“Oh, do tell.”
I shake my head, angry with myself. “This is what he does to me. He makes it seem okay to have fun and smile, but I’m betraying Dad every single…”
Again, I shake my head, doubly angry with myself. Chrissy might say it’s okay, but I’m here to support her. She’s so brave for coming to work today when she can probably still feel the effects of the drugs in her system. I can see she still feels the impact of the terror of what almost happened.
“This is seriously not important. Tell me about your last bike ride.”
Chrissy rolls her eyes. “You have zero interest in mountain biking.”
“Not anymore. Now, it’s the thing I’m the most interested in, like, ever.”
“Like, ever,” Chrissy repeats, imitating my Valley Girl impression.
We laugh, and then she tells me about this trail she biked, the near misses, the jumps, and I realize I should listen more. I’ve been a bad daughter and a bad friend. Her eyes light up when she speaks about this. It’s not that we never talk about it, and it’s not like I always lie to Dad. It’s the choices I make when it matters that define our relationships.
But I can’t tell Dad, not today, maybe not tomorrow. I know I’m being a coward. There’s no denying it. The most shameful part is I still want to see Logan.
“Maya tells me you and Chrissy are staying at a mutual friend’s this evening,” Mom says in that suspicious tone she’s used ever since I was eleven, and she thought she smelled cigarette smoke on me. In truth, Chrissy is staying at her boyfriend’s house.
Mom raises her eyebrow from across the living room, her knitting needles clicking away. She took up knitting when she was twenty-one, the day she found out she was pregnant with me. “When I learned I would be a mother, I knew I finally had an excuse.” I’ve never been sure if this is a joke or how she actually got started.
“Yeah,” I say, not looking at her, staring at my laptop screen instead.
Our family isn’t one of lies. Ours isn’t like that. Until recently, we’ve been honest with each other.
“Emma,” she says quietly. “I think you’re going to be staying somewhere else tonight.”
My gaze snaps to her reflexively. “What makes you say that?”
She lays her needles down. “Your reaction, for one, but you’ve never been able to lie to me. You’ve turned almost completely red.”
I almost slap myself across the face—betrayed by my own cheeks.
“I could say the same to you,” I reply, knowing it’s a bitter tactic, but I’m not ready to tell yet. They can’t make me. Gosh, I’m being juvenile. “You know who those men were. The one in the cowboy hat and the hairy one with the tattoos. I know you know them.”