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“West. ”
“If this … West didn’t have one foot out the door. ”
“Okay. Thank you. ” It’s a big concession on his part. If he’s going to make some calls, it means he’s putting his own reputation on the line for West—and that means he does trust me. At least a little.
I put my arms around him. His neck smells like aftershave. Like my dad.
“I love you,” I tell him. Because I do. I always have. He’s the world I was born into, and he gave me so much. Safety and strength, intelligence and courage, the knowledge I arm myself with.
He’s a great dad, and I love him.
When I squeeze, his arms come up, and he squeezes back.
“After this, can we be done for a while with the bombshells?” he asks. “You’re going to give me a heart attack. ”
“I hope so. Although maybe now is when I should tell you I’m not going to be around for break. Once you get West out, I’m staying with him until he flies home. ”
Another sigh.
A long minute, with the snow hitting the glass, and my dad not letting go, and me not letting go, either. His shirt collar is stiff, his body warm, the size of him surprisingly wrong since I’ve spent so much time snuggled up to West.
My dad isn’t very tall. I’ve always thought of him as taller than me, but he’s not, after all.
He’s just ordinary.
We’re both doing the best we can.
“I talked to Dick,” he says. “We have some strategies to consider. ”
“Okay. Why don’t you set up a meeting for the three of us, and I’ll take anything he has to share under consideration. ”
My dad backs up a step and looks down at me with his eyebrows steepled. “You’ll take it under consideration?”
“Right. ” I touch his arm. “This is my fight, Dad. I’ll take your help, if it’s help I think I need. But don’t get confused about who’s in charge. ”
And it’s funny—he laughs. Not a big laugh. Kind of a snort with half a smile attached to it, and a slight shake of his head. “You always were a ballbuster,” he says.
But he says it like he’s proud.
SPRING BREAK
West
I wish I had a picture of what she looked like that day.
I’d told her not to come, not to get involved, but I didn’t really expect her to listen. It’s like she said to me—we’re a team, and she’s the leader.
There are guys who’d have a problem with that, her asshole ex among them. And, sure, even I threw out a token protest when she said it, but that was mostly to make her smile.
Caroline’s being the leader—it doesn’t mean I’m her flunky. It doesn’t diminish me. It’s just who she is.
I always liked that about her. How she could walk into a classroom with her books, her binder, her pens, and you could see by the way she raised her hand, the questions she asked, the straight column of her spine: She’s the leader.
It’s what makes her so awesome.
So I wish I had a picture of Caroline on the steps of the police station, and it’s not because I’ve forgotten.
Her perfect posture. The way her hair bumped over the collar of her jacket, shiny and smooth.
