"Are you telling me," Dad said slowly, "that Tolliver is there. Now. In your room."
"It's everyone's room—but yes," I said.
"I thought he wasn't supposed to get back until tonight."
"He and his brother came back early."
Dad paused. "Is there another guy in your room?"
"No," I said as if that was ridiculous. Because it was. "I barely know Hudson."
"Thank God," he said then added, "So, there's only one hockey player in there?"
"Yeah, Dad. See? It could always be worse."
It was supposed to be a joke, but my father didn't laugh.
"Freya, it's almost midnight," he said.
"I know, the concert ran long. I didn't think?—"
"No, you didn't."
That brought me up short.
"Why did you wait to tell me until now?"
"I didn't want to worry you," I said quietly.
"Well, missionnotaccomplished," he said.
"Am I grounded?"
"Yes, until you're 50."
"Dad."
"You are grounded," he said with a sigh. "So grounded. But I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me. Thanks for that, I guess."
"Of course, I told you," I said. "You're my dad."
There was a long exhale then, "I love you, kid. Even if you are trying to drive me into an early grave."
I smiled despite myself. "I love you too."
"Okay, now let me talk to Tolliver," he said.
"Why?"
"Because I want to remind him what'll happen if he tries anything with you."
I rolled my eyes. "Dad, there are three other people in this room who are all related to me."
"And one who isn't."
"It's not like that. Tolliver and I, we're just friends."
"But you want it to be more," he said. "And I'm sure he does too."
