She stands in silence, studying me, digesting my words maybe. “Obviously he was never found guilty. Maybe he didn’t feel the need to tell you?”
“Yeah, maybe? But then several years later, Vincent’s pregnant wife was killed in a hit and run on our street,” I say. “Vincent once again tried to say it was my father, but there were no eyewitnesses and my father had a solid alibi—my mother—so they couldn’t arrest him.”
“Okay, so he’s innocent and Vincent clearly has it out for him. Makes sense why he’d hate the man so much. But what are you getting at with all of this? What’s this have to do with those texts?”
I tuck my hair behind my ears and sit straighter. “This KT person said something about ending my mom’s suffering, how it’ll all be over soon, how they’ve worked so hard for this to give up now … is he planning on …?”
I can’t say the words out loud; my lips refuse even though they’re on the tip of my tongue.
“What if he did do those things? What if he killed his sister and Vincent’s wife and now he’s planning on …”
I still can’t say it.
“Jesus, Sher. I don’t know.” She bites her lip, taking the spot beside me and shaking her head. “I don’t even know what to tell you.”
“It gets worse.”
Adriana rests her elbows on her knees, buries her face in her hands, and exhales. “Wow. Okay. What else?”
“So I’ve been following my dad this week … he doesn’t know.”
“And?”
“I’ve caught him in a few lies … like he’ll say he’s running to the hardware store or meeting a friend at a coffee shop, but when I follow him, he doesn’t go to the hardware store or he goes to a different coffee shop than the one he told me,” I say. “And then when he’s there, he’s always meeting up with this brunette lady.”
“No fucking way.”
“And she’s gorgeous, Adri. From what I can tell, at least. I never get that close. I’m always in my car. But she drives this silver Mercedes coupe and wears these expensive shoes, and she’s got this long, shiny hair that bounces when she walks. She’s always in dark sunglasses. Always greets him with a hug and leans in for a kiss, though I can never tell if it’s his mouth or his cheek. Then they disappear inside wherever they’re meeting. Sometimes they’re in there for twenty minutes, sometimes it’s over an hour. They always come out smiling and he walks her to her car. I think that’s her. I think that’s KT.”
“That’s … man … I don’t know …”
She seems as speechless as I’ve been the last few days.
“None of it makes sense,” I say. “And what do I do now? I can’t tell my mom any of this. And even if I did, she won’t believe me. My father is the love of her life. The man we know isn’t capable of this.”
“Then you should go straight to the source.”
I exhale with an exhausted chuff. “You don’t know my father. He’s an expert at shutting down conversations that make him uncomfortable. And if I’m right about all of this, he’ll never admit it in a million years. He works hard to be the perfect husband and father we’ve always known him to be.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I wish I knew.” My head throbs with tension, my jaw clenching tight. I need a break from thinking about all of this, from piecing together this strange puzzle. Just one night to relax, to clear my head and examine my options, and then I’ll go from there. “You want to hang out this weekend or something?”
My father works weekends—it’s the only reason I feel comfortable leaving my mom alone at this point. Which is ironic, because before it had always been the other way around. And it was why he worked nights—so he could be there with her during the day while I was at work or school.
“Actually, it’s funny you should ask because my parents are going out of town, and I’m having some people over Friday night. You in?” Adriana gives me a pleading smile. “We’re just hanging out and listening to music and chilling. My sister’s getting us a pony keg. You can stay the night and drive home in the morning. It’ll be fun—”
“—sure,” I interrupt. I don’t need the sales pitch this time. “I’m in.”
Adriana binds me in a hug so tight it forces the air from my lungs. “You have no idea how happy this makes me. You’re going to have the time of your life. I promise.”
Chapter Thirteen
August
* * *
I find her on the back of Adriana’s patio Friday night, sitting next to some dipshit in a crew cut and starched button down. Corporate baby blue. My least favorite color. If I’m not her type, I hope to God he isn’t either. I’m not easily insulted, but this would do it.
It’d be like preferring a rusted Honda over a rare French sports car.
Surely she knows she can do better than this.
“Have you ever tried to, like, count the stars? Just to see how high you can count?” he asks, slurring as he bumps his shoulder against hers.
Is he trying to impress her?
Trying to sound deep or metaphorical?
Going to have to try harder than that, idiot …
I lean back, taking a sip of my beer and watching the shit show unfold as I wait for the perfect time to crash this little love nest.
“No,” she says, staring up at the sky. “That sounds … honestly … pretty boring.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
She takes a sip, and he makes no effort to conceal the fact that he’s checking her out with some shameless side eye. It’s like a scene from a movie, where the guy is fidgety and nervous and the girl is oblivious and has no idea he’s counting down the seconds until he tries to kiss her.
Not on my watch.
Honda guy leans in—just as she take another sip.
And they bump heads.
She laughs. He laughs.
“You all right?” Sheridan reaches for the side of his head, running her fingers through his short pricks of shit brown hair.
“Yeah.” He cups his hand over hers and doesn’t once ask if her fucking head is okay. “That was my fault.”
“Damn right it was,” I interject because I can’t take this any longer.
They whip around in tandem and Sheridan gasps, hand over her chest.
“August, what the hell are you doing here?” She rises from the step she was occupying. Generic Honda guy follows suit, his watchful gaze darting between hers and mine. I know his type. I went to school with millions of crew cut ass wipes like him. If I wanted to, I could shoot him one look that’d make him shit his pants.
“Didn’t Adriana tell you? She invited me.” I hide a satisfied smirk behind a swig of beer. “Supposedly there’s a friend she wants to hook me up with. Apparently I’m just her type.”
Sheridan squints. Either she doesn’t believe me or all of this is news to her.
But honestly, this worked out. Dad is spending a rare weekend at home, which means I wouldn’t have been able to entertain the Rose girl at my place. And I would have. If Adriana wasn’t throwing this little get together, I’d have organized another beer bash at my place solely as an excuse to get Sheridan on my territory again.