Page 217 of Dream On, Liar

I should have been celebrating.

Instead, I was standing over an open kit bag, folding tape rolls, assessment sheets and the last of my equipment into their respective places.

My hands moved automatically. One thing after another. A familiar ritual after every series.

Except tonight, my mind refused to follow.

The door opened behind me.

I didn't look up.

“Maeve.”

My hands stopped.

Dad.

I turned slowly. He stood in the doorway, still wearing his credentials from the day, his expression unreadable.

“Hey, what do you need?”

“I want you to tell me what really happened.” My brow furrowed.

“What?”

“With Rihaan.”

The name landed somewhere beneath my ribs.

I looked back down at the open bag.

“I don't know what you mean.”

“You do.” His voice wasn't raised, that made it worse. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “This morning, I had a conversation with him.”

I swallowed. “About?”

“Cricket.”

I looked up.

“He's thinking about leaving.”

The words didn't register immediately.

“Leaving what?”

“Cricket.”

The room seemed to lose its warmth.

I stared at him.

“He's considering walking away entirely.”

“I…” Nothing came. I hadn’t known that he’d been thinking about it. Not even a hint.

Dad watched my face. “You didn't know.”