Chapter 25 #2
“Why were you worried?” Harper looks genuinely surprised, like the concept of someone worrying about her is foreign. “Boy Scout over here”—she jerks a thumb in my direction, and I try not to wince at the moniker—“told you we were going to the lake.”
Silas folds his arms across his large, barrel chest. Even in pajamas, he’s intimidating. “You think I’m that dumb? It’s your birthday. I know you turned eighteen today.”
“Oh, so you remembered for once,” Harper sneers, and I hear twelve years of abandonment in those words.
“Get in the house.” Silas jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “We’ll discuss this in the morning. Helen’s been worried sick all day.”
Guilt knifes through my chest. Worrying Mom is the last thing I ever want to do. I hate that she’ll know I lied to her, but I can face the consequences of my actions.
I step up beside Harper. Close enough that our arms brush.
“About that,” I say. “We didn’t go to the lake.”
“No shit.” Silas’s voice is flat. Disappointed.
The disappointment hurts worse than anger would. I’ve spent years earning his respect and trust. And I just torched it in one night. Broke all the rules. His and mine.
“We went to get an old friend.” I force myself to meet his eyes. “I pushed for it. He was in need.”
“Need?” Silas’s eyes narrow, pinging back and forth between Harper and me like he’s trying to solve an equation.
Harper just turns on her heels and walks back to the Mustang, yanking open her door and pulling the lever that drops her seat forward, exposing Z.
I position myself between Silas and the car. Not blocking. Just... present.
Check the arrangement: Me here. Harper there. Z emerging. Silas watching.
Four people. Even number.
Except everything feels unbalanced.
Z unfolds himself out of the backseat, stepping out onto the driveway. Under the porch light, his bruises are more visible. The split lip, the way he’s favoring his left side.
“I’ll continue to stay here, old man,” Harper says, and there’s challenge in her voice. Defiance. “Which I’m only considering to be nice to Helen—because I like her, and she’s made me feel welcome. But only if Z can stay in the basement until I finish high school and graduate.”
It’s hard to see in the dim light, but I’m pretty sure Silas’s face goes red with absolute fury. The color starts at his neck and rises like a tide.
“No way in hell,” Silas says slowly, deliberately, “am I letting your boyfriend move into the basement.”
“I’m not her boyfriend,” Z says, voice hard as concrete. “Believe me, she’s made that more than clear.”
For once, his bad disposition is helpful.
“Did you hear that, Silas?” I hear Mom’s voice from somewhere behind Silas. His big body was blocking the front door, but then she’s suddenly standing beside him in her robe, hair pulled back in a sleep braid. “Harper wants to stay and graduate!”
She sounds like it’s the best gift she’s ever been given. Like Harper choosing to stay is worth more than every straight-A report card I’ve ever brought home. But I don’t mind. On the contrary.
Because God, do I love my mom. She always knows just the right thing to say at just the right time.
Silas looks back at her. The rage on his face immediately disappears, but he doesn’t look any less frustrated. More like now it’s all just bottling up inside him with nowhere to go, because his wife is the one person he can’t naysay. Like he’s trying to hold back a storm.
“You can’t be seriously contemplating this, my love,” Silas says through his teeth.
“Why not?” Mom’s voice is gentle but firm.
I’ve seen her before when she gets this way, and obviously so has Silas.
Sweet as pie on the surface but like iron underneath when she’s made a decision.
“We’ve got the space. Do your parents have any problem with it?
” She turns and directs this at Z. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was, young man? ”
“I didn’t.” Z’s voice is sour as old milk.
Harper elbows him in the side hard enough that he grunts.
“Z. Short for Zedekiah,” Harper says quickly, and suddenly her voice gets softer and sweeter as she addresses my mom. “And he is so grateful for the offer of hospitality. It would mean so much to both of us. Z is my oldest friend, and he has no place to stay. He would be out on the streets.”
Harper makes her eyes large and her voice pathetic. It’s still dark enough out that I don’t think Mom catches Z’s eye roll, but I do. Little shit.
“I think it would be wonderful.” Mom clutches Silas’s bicep, tottering slightly. I frown. The front porch light casts deep shadows under her eyes. “We’d have a full house. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Harper has been such an amazing addition to our family, and this way she’d stay and graduate.”
“If Z can’t stay,” Harper says, and her voice gets smaller, regretful, “I’m sorry, but I’d have to go with him—to make sure he could find a way to make rent.
I’d have to go get a job and help him find a place.
We were planning to go wash dishes in Austin until we could afford a place, but Caleb talked us out of it.
” She looks at me, and there’s something in her eyes.
Gratitude, maybe. Or maybe it’s still all part of the charade she’s putting on for Mom.
“He said this would be a better idea so I could finish high school.”
Mom beams at me like I’ve just solved world hunger. But Silas still just looks pissed, jaw working like he’s chewing gravel.
“And you couldn’t talk to us before you brought this boy here?”
Harper just smiles sweetly at him—that dangerous smile I’ve learned means trouble. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission. Isn’t that what you always said, Daddy?”
Silas glares at her and throws another thumb over his shoulder. “We’ll talk about this more in the morning. Get in the house. Now.”
“I’ll just get some sheets and make up the couch into a bed downstairs—” Mom starts, already moving toward the door.
“Nope.” Silas cuts her off. “Harper can do that.”
“Oh, it’s really no problem,” Mom starts, but Silas gives a glare and a sharp shake of his head.
“This girl wants to think she’s a grown-up? It’s the least she can do.”
“I’ll help,” I say quickly, hurrying to follow Mom and Silas into the house.
I keep a close eye behind me to make sure Harper doesn’t bolt now that she’s got Z.
Check over my shoulder: Harper and Z standing by the car. Still there.
Take four steps. Check again: still there.
Four more steps. Check: still there.
Count the distance between us: eight steps. Twelve steps. Sixteen steps.
Check again: still there. But they’re talking. Z’s face is angry. Harper’s is tired.
What are they saying? Should I go back?
No. Trust her. She chose to stay. She said she’d stay.
But I check one more time before going inside.
Still there.
I just need that one last reassurance she’s not going to disappear into the night and take my heart with her.