Chapter 15
"I'm telling you, that last question was designed by sadists!" Molly throws her hands up as four of us pile into Sam's red Honda Fit. "Actual sadists who hate joy and want us to suffer."
I adjust my backpack, wincing as my headache pulses behind my eyes. Three hours of calculus will do that. "It wasn't that bad."
Three pairs of eyes bore daggers into me, and I regret opening my mouth.
"Says the girl who's been getting private tutoring from her billionaire boyfriend," Molly mutters, but she's grinning.
"I know, right," Linda Bello, another of our friends, chirps. "The rest of us mere mortals are out here suffering."
A stupid little smile tugs at my lips despite the headache and my friends' teasing. I so nailed that last question. The one Jordan made me redo three different ways on the phone last night, his patient voice walking me through the logic until it clicked.
"I gotta run," Molly says, as Sam drops Linda off. "My shift at the diner starts in twenty. Are you working tonight?"
"No, thank God!"
"I don't know why you're still working at all, Bree. If my boyfriend had a tenth of what Jordan did, I—" She snaps her mouth shut at the dirty look Sam throws her.
They start arguing but I tune them out, thinking Molly has a point however off she is.
I should really be handing in my notice at Pizza Fiesta. Houston looms—less than a month away now. And marriage. And secrets so delicious I'm dying to share but can't. Not yet.
Soon, though. Soon I'll be able to tell Molly everything. Show her the ring hidden in my jewelry box under my bed. Explain why I'm moving to Texas, why I deferred NSC for a year, and why I may end up going to Yale instead.
Sam pulls up, letting me get off at the intersection a few blocks from home.
"See you tomorrow!" Molly waves as the Honda backs away.
I turn toward home, the afternoon sun beating down on Henderson's cracked sidewalks.
The walk only takes five minutes but by the time I reach our small house with its peeling blue paint and chain-link fence, my headache has bloomed into a full throbbing.
I push the kitchen door open, expecting chaos.
It's Monday. Book club day. There should be half a dozen of Mom's friends crammed into our tiny kitchen, drinking coffee and debating whether Gus should've stayed in Lonesome Dove, or whether loyalty is worth dying for.
The book sits on the coffee table—the beautiful first edition Jordan gave Dad. Leather-bound, spine cracked now from being passed around. Mom had claimed it the week after Jordan gave it to him, teasing Dad that it was wasted on him.
"It's got romance in it, Bobby," she'd said, clutching it to her chest. "You'd just skim to the shootouts."
"It's a Western," Dad had grumbled. "It's my book."
"Then why haven't you opened it?"
Dad had no answer to that, and Mom had victoriously started the first chapter that night. Within a week, she'd recruited her book club, and Dad pretended to be annoyed even though I caught him reading over her shoulder twice.
Now it sits abandoned on the kitchen table. The sound of news on the TV—a tad too loud—filters in from the lounge.
Maybe they're catching up on some juicy gossip.
Not wanting to bother them, I head to my room—Advil, cold compress, maybe a nap before my shift—when I hear it.
Sobbing.
Raw. Heart-wrenching. The kind of crying that makes your chest hurt just hearing it. It's coming from the living room.
I drop my bag by the door, frowning. "Mom?"
I move toward the living room, my headache forgotten, dread pooling in my stomach.
That's when I hear my name. I freeze in the doorway, staring at the TV, gasping when Dad's photo flashes onto the screen.
"—funds traced primarily to a personal account, reportedly his daughter, Sabrina's college fund—"
He looks like himself and not like himself. Same crooked smile, same tan skin, same deep lines around his eyes. Underneath, the caption rolls:
LOCAL FOREMAN ARRESTED FOR INTERNAL FRAUD AT APEX ENERGY PLANT
My legs go out from under me.
I hit the edge of the couch, missing it, then slide to the floor. For a moment I can't hear anything over the roaring in my ears.
"No," I whisper. "No, no, no—"
"Sabrina!" Mom rushes to me, her face blotchy, her eyes swollen, lashes clumped with dried tears. "You weren't supposed to see that."
"Tell me it's wrong." My voice doesn't sound like mine. "Tell me it's a mistake."
She drops to her knees beside me, hands shaking when they grab mine. "We don't know, sweetheart. Drew just left here."
"Drew? What did he say?"
Mom sniffs, wiping off her nose with the edge of her sleeve. "He says the police suddenly showed up at the plant today and arrested your father. He said your dad didn't fight it, just… went, as if he knew. As if he…" Her voice breaks. "As if he did it."
"No, it's impossible—" I choke. "Daddy wouldn't. He wouldn't steal. Not from anyone, not from work. Not from Jordan."
My mom's face crumples. "They had evidence of the embezzlement. Bank statements. Said the money went into an account he might have been saving. For your college."
For a moment I'm sure I misheard. "What?"
She nods, tears spilling freely now. "Sabrina… you've been talking about not going to NSC anymore. Suddenly it was Yale or UConn."
The world tilts. "Yes, but I didn’t ask or expect him to pay for that!" I yell.
"He's a proud man, you know. It's hard enough for him that you help with the rent. Maybe he felt guilty and thought—"
“No! Daddy would never steal even if he thought he had to pay for Yale. Someone framed him," I say, grasping at air. "They had to. He wouldn't do this."
"I know," Mom says, her fingers twisting into her shirt. "I know in my bones he’s innocent. But why doesn't he deny it? The media is already calling him a thief."
I look back at the TV where they're replaying the same clip, the same numbers: $482,450.25 diverted over four months and my stomach lurches.
Half a million dollars. The approximate amount Yale could cost over four years.
"Where's Drew?" I croak.
"At home. The police spoke to him as well, but he wasn't involved in this. They're saying it was just your dad."
I stand. "Alright, I'm calling Jordan."
Mom hesitates. "Bree. Sweetheart. Maybe not this time."
"What do you mean, Mom? It's his father's company. His company," I insist. "He'll know something about who framed Daddy."
Her eyes flash with something like hope and fear sewn together. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Bree."
I stop and turn to her. "He's my boyfriend, Mom. And maybe the one person on earth who can fix this mess."
I run to my room and shut the door.
My hands shake so badly I almost drop my phone. I stab his name, press it to my ear, pace in circles while it rings and rings.
Voicemail.
"Jordan, it's me. Call me. Please." My voice cracks on the last word.
I try again.
And again.
It's almost an hour before my phone finally lights up with his name.
"Bree?"
Just his voice makes me cry. "Jordan."
"Baby. You've been crying." I hear it—that tight note in his tone he gets when he's barely in control. "I'm here, okay? It's going to be alright."
"I don't know how it happened but I swear Daddy didn't do it. There must have been a mistake." The words tumble out in a rush. "They're saying he stole from Apex, that he sent money to my college account, but he wouldn't, Jordan. He wouldn't. You have to believe me."
"I believe you, love," he says softly.
I cling to those words like a ledge.
"Mom... she's in pieces about this." I press my fist to my mouth, swallowing a sob. "Jordan, can you maybe help Daddy? Do you think if you spoke to your father…? The news says there's evidence Daddy did it but that's got to be a lie. Right? Your father can do something."
"Listen, baby, I've spoken to my father already, and he's promised to look into it."
Joy bubbles through me. "You've… spoken to him already?" I whisper. "When?"
There's a pause.
"This morning," he admits.
"Oh." I sink down on the edge of my bed. "Before the news broke?"
"Yes."
"In person? Brendan Farrington is in town? And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't want to worry you until I had something concrete," he says quickly. "I know this is a lot, Bree, but we will fix it. It'll all be okay."
"Oh, I hope so." I wipe my eyes, breathing hard. Somewhere under the panic, a small, sharp sting begins to form. "I really do. Jordan. I… Um…"
I can't say it out loud—that I need him like oxygen. That my chest hurts so badly I can't breathe without him.
"What do you need, baby?" he asks gently. I can hear how much he wants to be there from the way his voice drops. For a moment I almost feel better.
"Can I see you?" I blurt. "I know we agreed to wait until after exams but my head is scrambled now. I don't even think I can do tomorrow's paper. I—just come and get me. Please."
Silence.
"Sweetie, I'm not in Henderson right now," he says finally.
I swallow hard. "You're not? Where are you?"
"Houston."
The word hits me like a fist.
"Oh? When did you leave?" My heart is racing now, my anxiety turning into something colder.
"This afternoon," he says. "There was a jet waiting. Work stuff. I didn't have a choice."
"You didn't… text me?" I feel stupid as soon as I say it. But it spills out anyway. "You just left without even letting me know."
"Baby, I was going to." He sounds pained. "It all happened so fast. My father—" He breaks off, exhales. "It's complicated."
I close my eyes, dread knotting in my belly. "Okay. When are you coming back?"
"I'll come as soon as I can."
"That's not an answer, Jordan."
"Do you trust me?" he asks.
"Yes," I breathe. It's automatic. Reflex. The truest thing I know.
"Then wait."
"Wait for what?" I ask quietly.
He doesn't respond. The silence says everything.
"Okay, tell me this at least," I push, my voice trembling. "Are you going to be back in time for your birthday next week?"
I've been planning his surprise for weeks. I can almost hear the sound of wrapping paper and my own stupid excitement crashing down around me as I ask.
"I don't think so, love," he says.
My vision blurs as I stumble toward my bed. I need to sit. "What about—what about graduation?" We both know what we're doing the day after graduation.
"Baby, I don't think the party is still possible with what's happened," he says, the softness in his voice starting to sound like pity.
"But Dad's going to be released, isn't he?" I plead. "You just said your dad is doing something about it. They'll find out he's innocent. So he should be home by then."
"Bree, baby." He sounds exhausted now. "Listen, the timing isn't ideal. We should chill for a bit and let this blow over."
Chill.
Like this is gossip or a bad haircut.
"I see," I say, numb. He's never ever used that word—or tone—with me. I know something is very wrong.
"Jordan, we were meant to go to Houston after graduation but now you're telling me you left and you don't know when you're coming back."
He says nothing and cold, brutal understanding seeps in.
"I don't suppose we'll be getting married anymore then?" I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.
"Of course we will, baby. I want more than anything to be your husband." He hesitates. "Just… not right now."
My heart doesn't break with a crack.
It explodes.
"And all of this is because of what's happened today?" I ask, needing to hear him say it.
"Bree, trust me—"
"I'd like a straight answer, Jordan."
There's a beat. "Essentially, yes," he says. "But—"
"That's okay." I swallow around the lump in my throat. Mom was right. I shouldn't have called him. "I uh—I understand. I'm really sorry to embarrass you."
"No, baby. You could never embarrass me. I love you. You're my fiancée."
My chest tightens so much I can't breathe. I let go of my final scrap of pride and beg. "Jordan, I really need you," I whisper, the words scraping my throat raw. "I'm so scared and worried. I just need you to hold me. I could come to you if you can't be in Henderson right now."
"To Houston?" he asks, startled.
"Yeah. Or wherever. I just want to see you."
"Baby. I need you too. But not right now, okay?" he says. "I'm working something out."
The chill in my bones turns to ice.
"I see." I let out a shaky breath. "Oh my God. You think he did it, don't you? Uncle Drew was right."
"What are you talking about?"
"Uncle Drew always said you were too good to be true," I say, tears burning. "That you'd leave me as soon as your term at the solar plant is over."
"Tell me you don't actually believe that."
"I'd be wise to believe it since it's happening right before my eyes."
"Sabrina!"
"Goodbye, Jordan."
"Sabrina, don't do this. Don't fucking do this to us. Just…trust me."
"No," I whisper. "I'm sorry, I can't. The same way you don't believe that my father is innocent.
Otherwise, you wouldn't have run so fast. Jordan, you couldn't even wait for me to get back from finals.
And I'm the woman you're supposed to be marrying.
God, what a colossal idiot I am. I believed everything you told me and I fell in love with you. "
"Sabrina, for the love of God, just listen to me, don't hang up.
Baby, I want to see you too. It's killing me not to be able to hold you.
I need to explain some things to you. Listen, I'll come to Henderson soon, okay?
I can't say exactly when but I want there to be nothing between us when we talk.
I need you to be able to look into my eyes and see the truth there. "
I want to believe him so badly it hurts.
"Can you just do one thing for me?" he asks.
Silence stretches between us.
"Hang in there, baby, I'm coming for you."
"I don't know," I say honestly. "Maybe. I'll try."
"I love you," he says.
I hang up.
And that's the last time I speak to Jordan Farrington for eight years.