Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
She balks at the portion size. “Dad,” she protests, “I’ve got a track meet on Monday. You trying to kill me with carbs?”
“I thought carbo loading was a legitimate strategy runners use before a race.” He gives her a blank look. “Isn’t that what you said the other day?”
“Yes, but I didn’t mean I wanted you to serve me half a lasagna.” She cuts the massive piece in half, sticks a fork in the middle, and plops the second piece onto my plate.
I snicker. “Thanks.”
As we eat, Dad peppers us with questions, most of which are directed at Sloane. And from the way she keeps wincing and groaning, I know she’s regretting the big talk she had with him last week, when she asked if it would kill him to ask her about her life instead of always assuming she was doing okay. Looks like it totally backfired on her—Sloane is notoriously private, so I know all the prying is killing her. I don’t feel that bad for her, though. Welcome to my life. Dad is always grilling me about something.
I bite back a laugh when he starts asking her about RJ. “Mr. Shaw treating you well?”
“Oh my God. No. We’re not talking about my love life.” Sloane shoves a bite of lasagna into her mouth and chews extra slowly to avoid speaking more words.
Dad gives up and turns his attention to me, asking how my day was. “Mr. Bishop came by to walk the dogs?” he prompts.
He sounds as thrilled about me spending time with Fenn as he does about Sloane and RJ. But Dad doesn’t vocally object to my friendship with Fenn anymore. He keeps his disapproval to himself because he knows how much my time with Fenn means to me.
If it weren’t for Fenn’s friendship, I might still be locked in my room, obsessing over the night my car wound up in the lake. Wallowing in self-pity. Waking up multiple times a night from bone-chilling nightmares. Yes, the nightmares still come, but not as often as before. And these days, when they do wake me, I call Fenn and he comforts me. He told me it doesn’t matter what time of day or night it is. If I need him, call him.
Still, I know Dad isn’t in love with the idea. Even before the accident, he always viewed me as fragile. I was the baby, the one who needed extra protecting. Sloane, meanwhile, was the rock. The resilient one. I’m not jealous of my sister, never have been, but I can’t deny I feel resentful sometimes. Not necessarily toward her, but because I get tired of Dad acting like I’m not as strong as she is. Not as tough.
I can be tough when I need to be. I survived that night, didn’t I?
“Case?” he prompts.
“Oh, yeah. He did. We walked to the lake. It was nice.”
More than nice. I can still taste him on my lips.
I feel my cheeks warm up and change the subject before the blush can take hold. “I forgot to ask you—can Lucas come over and watch a movie tonight? He texted right before we sat down.”
Dad picks up his water glass and takes a sip. Then he nods. “Yes. That’s fine. Lucas is always welcome.” He glances at Sloane. “I haven’t seen Silas around this week.”
“He’s busy with swimming. I’m busy with track. We haven’t connected.”
I know my sister well, and there’s something rippling under the surface of that noncommittal answer. I’m just not sure what it is. I think back to recent conversations with Fenn and try to recall if he’d mentioned anything about a possible beef between my sister and Silas Hazelton, her BFF at Sandover. But nothing comes to mind.
“Anyway, enough about us,” Sloane chirps, turning the tables on our father. “How was your week, Headmaster Tresscott?”
“Chaotic,” he answers, wrapping his fingers around his wineglass. Dad drinks one glass of red wine every night and no more than that. He’s honestly the most predictable person I’ve ever met in my life. “I need to fill two open teaching positions. I was only able to find a suitable candidate for one, so the boys will have a sub in modern lit until the position is filled. Subs are a pain in the butt.”
“Two open positions?” Sloane says, raising a brow. “How’d you lose two teachers in one week? What are you doing over there? Hazing them?”
Dad looks amused. “No. There was a family emergency, and they both had to resign. They happened to be married.”
“See?” she says. “This is why the institution of marriage should be abolished.”
After dinner, as Sloane and I load the dishwasher, I conduct my own interrogation. “Are you and Silas fighting?”
She turns toward me, her dark ponytail falling over one shoulder. “No. Should we be?”
“No. But Dad’s right—I haven’t seen him around.”