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I wanted to go after her. No matter how much I wanted to, though, I couldn't. There were so many things going on. I couldn't leave Cecilia like this. Too many things were at stake. Including this fuckery going on with my father. We needed answers, and we needed them quickly. So I kept my eyes on Rae until the horizon swallowed her whole.
Then I went inside.
“Cecilia?” I called out her name as I closed the door behind me.
“In the kitchen.”
Her voice was so soft. Breathless. Worried. I made my way into the kitchen and saw her sitting there with a crystal glass of whiskey. She twirled it around in her fingertips. The sadness in her eyes was unbearable. I placed my hand on her shoulder and squeezed, knowing damn good and well that whatever she had found out wasn’t good. I walked to the fridge and got me a soda. I wanted a glass of whiskey, too. But I figured Cecilia wouldn't allow it.
I sighed as I sat down in front of her, watching her glassy eyes find mine.
“What happened?” I asked.
Her eyes fell to her glass. “What time is it, again?”
I shrugged. “Sometime past lunch.”
“Good.” She put her whiskey glass to her lips.
She chugged. And chugged. She swallowed until the amber liquid was gone. And when she got up to get a second glass, I knew it wasn’t good. Whatever she had to speak with me about would be life-altering. That much I knew for sure. How badly, I didn't know.
But I braced for the worst.
Cecilia eased herself back down and leaned heavily into the chair. I brought my soda to my lips, mindlessly sipping as I gave her the space she needed to collect her thoughts. Part of me wanted to yell at her to spit it out. The rest of me knew how much she was struggling, though. The look in her eye. The sadness in her features. The way her eyes teared up and dried out. Like her body didn’t know whether to be sad or angry.
Or both.
“Did Dad call you back?”
She nodded slowly.
“Did he answer any of your questions?”
And again, she nodded.
“Whenever you’re ready to talk, Rae’s gone.”
She drew in a short breath. “You should really call that girl and apologize.”
I nodded. “One thing at a time.”
Cecilia reached for my hand. “Your father’s already—”
I took hers, wrapping my fingers around her hand. “He’s already what?”
Though I knew what was coming.
“Your father’s already found a buyer for the house, Clinton.”
I drew in a deep breath. Anything to keep my head from popping off. I had to keep my cool. I couldn't let loose on her. I couldn't become Dad in this moment. I squeezed her hand before I sat back. Her touch fell away and I replaced it with the cold soda in my hand. I brought it to my lips and chugged, wishing it were alcohol. Wishing it were something to wash away the pain and hatred and disdain I had circulating through my system. The carbonation burned. I let it burn, too. I didn’t stop until the damn drink was gone. And even then, I wanted something stronger.
Something harsher.
Something more potent than a fucking Dr. Pepper.
“What else did Dad say?”
She sighed. “A lot. He blames you for what happened. Though I kept telling him it was his fault. That he started it after having one too many drinks. That you were only trying to defend me.”
