Page 34 of Level Up for Love

Chapter

Nine

I’m running late to D&D, yet I’m driving in the opposite direction from Game Knight.

I was halfway there when Mona called and asked if I could grab her character sheet from her apartment—she was on the other side of town, out with Shay. I’d grumbled about it privately but resolved that I was the one closer to home and turned around.

I’ve just pulled up to our building and made my way halfway up to Mona’s apartment when my phone buzzes again in the back pocket of my ripped jeans. I whip it out and press it to my ear. “What else did you forget?”

“Reagan?” The voice on the other end of the line sounds surprised—and also gravelly, masculine, and very much not like Mona. I avoid these calls like the plague, so it’s been months since I’ve heard it.

I sigh and deflate against the wall midway up the stairwell. “Dad.”

“Hey, Rea. How are you? It’s been a while.”

“Fine. I’m in the middle of helping Mona with something.” I stomp the rest of the way up the stairs and shove the key into her doorknob. “Can we talk later?”

His tone turns concerned. “Is she okay?”

My vision briefly flashes red, but I ignore it as I rifle around Mona’s messy coffee table until I find her D&D notebook. “She’s fine.”

“Good, good. Okay, well, listen—I just wanted to check in, see how you were doing.” He’s talking really fast, like he’s waiting for me to hang up at any moment. He knows this dance as well as I do. “Have you given any more thought to the trip?”

I’m proud of myself for managing to cover up my sardonic laugh with an uncomfortable cough. Dad finally settled down in Florida this year, and he’s been trying to get Mona and me to visit.

“I’ll think about it,” I say for the dozenth time. “But I’ve really got to go.”

“Okay. Okay. Well…let me know.” He clears his throat. “Love you, kiddo.”

“Bye, Dad.” I hang up, turn off my ringer, and shove my phone back into my pocket.

When I finally slide back into my car, I take a moment to check everything: the position of the rearview mirror, the adjustment on the seat, the sound of the ignition when I turn it on. I nervously twitch on the windshield wipers to clear the handful of leaves caught under them, and I probably look over my shoulder eight times as I carefully reverse out into the street. I might be late, but as I head back toward Game Knight, I don’t drive even the slightest bit over the speed limit. I never have, not since the accident.

I try to focus on the road and the erratic patterns of other drivers, but every time I blink, the memory of that day flashes behind my eyelids.

Mona and I had just gotten out of high school swim practice. I’d hated it; my sister has always been my best friend, but I resented how much better at swimming she was than me, especially because she was a year younger. Mom usually picked us up from practice after work, since I didn’t have my driver’s license yet, but for once, Dad was home from one of his business trips and offered to come. I was so excited to see him, to tell him how I beat Mona for the first time in a butterfly sprint. She moped the whole time, of course, so I offered her the front seat as a consolation prize and sat in the back behind Dad.

How many days have I spent wishing I’d never budged?

That day, Dad was loud. Excited. He’d just gotten home the night before and wanted us to catch him up on everything he’d missed. I thought he was just happy to see us. I didn’t learn until later that he’d come straight from happy hour with his work friends.

I remember the way his pale green eyes—the ones I got from him—met mine in the rearview mirror as he asked, Has anyone asked you to prom yet? I held his gaze for so long that neither of us saw the car coming.

I don’t remember the rest, not really, but the doctors explained everything afterward. Dad rolled through the red light, and a car hit us from the right. Dad and I were fine, but—

Mona wasn’t.

After that, we barely spoke. I blamed him, of course, and we grew even further apart after the divorce, though Mona eventually got better. Even after he’d apologized and made a hundred different amends, I just couldn’t bring myself to rebuild that bridge. I still can’t.

My shoulders relax a little when I pull into Game Knight’s parking lot, and after a few bracing breaths, I do my best to shake it all off as I speed-walk through the store and down the stairs to the Dungeon Room.

I’m only fifteen minutes late, but given the tense way I left things last time, my tardiness certainly doesn’t earn me any brownie points from the rest of the table. Arthur and Shay wear identical grumpy frowns, and Colin impatiently toys with his d20 while reviewing the character sheet laid out before him. Interesting—I wonder who his new character will be. Mona perks up gratefully as I pass over her notebook, though Shay’s features inexplicably darken further.

Wesley’s expression is unreadable. I shot him a message to let him know I was running late, and he seemed understanding enough. But now he regards his notes and doesn’t look up until I’m seated.

“My bad,” I say distractedly. I cast a quick glance around the table before meeting Wesley’s gaze. No fighting, I promise myself. “Let’s do this.”

The rest of the journey to Zaska is made in stony silence.