By the time I pulled into the diner lot, my knuckles were white from gripping the wheel. The neon sign buzzed faintly in the rain. The parking lot was half flooded, puddles reflecting red and blue light. I saw my dad’s jacket through the front window before I even shut the car off.
He was sitting in a booth. Alone.
Tripp stood when he saw my headlights and pushed through the diner door before I even reached it.
He met me at the entrance, rain plastering his hair to his forehead.
He was shaking with rage.
“What the hell did you do?” he spat.
“What did you do?” I shot back.
“You think I didn’t notice?” he ranted. “You think I didn’t connect the dots when my father sold off my company overnight?”
My stomach dropped. Raph.
“Where’s my dad?” I demanded.
“He’s inside.”
“Then let’s go inside.”
He stepped into my space, still ranting.
“You cost me my job. My company. It was going to be mine. It was all going to be mine until you and your damn husband.” He spat the word out with such disdain.
“I didn’t?—”
“Don’t lie.”
Rain soaked through my hoodie.
“Tripp, this is not the place. Go sit down. We’ll talk.”
He laughed harshly.
“Oh, now you want to talk.”
“Yes. Sit down.”
I pointed toward the diner. I needed to control the environment and contain the spiral. He hesitated. Then shoved past me and went back inside. I followed.
The bell over the door jingled faintly. The diner smelled like coffee and grease and wet pavement. A waitress looked up briefly but went back to refilling cups.
The booth where I’d seen Dad was empty.
I stopped cold.
“Where is he?” I asked, voice already rising.
“He probably had to use the bathroom,” Tripp said dismissively, sliding into the booth.
My heart started racing.
“Where?”
He gestured vaguely toward the back. I didn’t wait. I hurried down the narrow hallway and pushed open the men’s bathroom door.
