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“Callie?” Dad’s voice is softer now, the concern in it making it even harder to say what comes next.

I drag in a breath and try to make myself say Jubal’s name, but every version of tomorrow crowds behind the words before I can get them out. If Dad reacts badly, I can’t undo it. If he feels betrayed, I can’t make him unfeel it. If everything between him and Jubal changes the second I tell him, I don’t get to decide when it changes back.

“I was just…” I swallow, and Jubal’s name is right there. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay with Olivia staying through Sunday.”

The pressure in my chest releases so abruptly that I hate myself for how good it feels. Dad doesn’t know I’ve just taken the safest exit I could find. He only nods and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Of course, I am. You know she’s always welcome here.”

“Right.” My voice sounds normal, which somehow makes it worse.

His hand leaves mine, and I stare at the place where it was while the relief drains away. Dad didn’t get distracted, rush me, or give me a single reason to wait for another day. I had the perfect moment, but I let it slip by.

“You need something, Duvall?”

My head snaps toward the kitchen, and I find Jubal standing in the doorway with a dish towel slung over one shoulder. I have no idea how long he’s been there, and I cling to the possibility that he didn’t hear enough to know what happened. But he doesn’t need to know what we said. He knows I had Dad alone, exactly like I said I needed, and I still didn’t tell him. I almost wish Jubal looked angry, because then I could explain. I could tell him I tried, that I panicked before I could get it out, but the hurt he’s trying not to show makes every explanation stick in my throat.

Dad shifts in his chair, unaware of what’s happening between us. “Is everything under control in there?”

Jubal pulls his attention away from me. “Yeah, Coach. We’ve got it.”

“Good. Make sure Valentine stays away from the pie until everyone gets in there.”

“I’ll do my best.”

His voice sounds so normal that Dad turns back toward his beer without another thought, but I can’t stop watching Jubal. He holds my gaze for another second before turning toward the kitchen, and every part of me wants to follow him. But I can’t. Not with Dad sitting three feet away after I just let the chance to tell him pass. My fingers tighten around the edge of my chair as Jubal disappears through the doorway.

Someone calls Dad into the kitchen, and I follow him, finding Jubal just as he ties off the trash and heads toward the mudroom. I’m moving before I can lose the chance, slipping out the back door as he crosses the patio. The cold cuts through me without my coat, but I barely feel it as he keeps walking away.

“Jubal.”

He doesn’t turn around immediately. I keep walking anyway, stopping a few feet behind him when he finally looks back at me.

“I was going to tell him.” I take a step closer, needing him to understand that before anything else. “I know what you saw in there, but I wasn’t sitting with him trying to get out of it.”

Jubal holds my gaze, shifting the trash bag in his hand.

“The second I tried, all I could think about was what would happen after. What it would do to you. What happens tomorrow when you walk into the facility and he has to coach you, knowing we’ve been keeping this from him.” I curl my fingers into the ends of my sleeves. “I kept trying to find a way to tell him without hurting either of you.”

“Pea, I understand why you were scared. But understanding doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. I can give you time. I just don’t know what I’m waiting for anymore.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” My eyes burn, but I don’t reach for him. “I don’t know what he’s going to do when I tell him, and I think that’s what I’ve been trying so hard not to face.”

Jubal watches me for a moment before he nods. I can still see the hurt in his eyes, but he’s here. I don’t need him to forgive me before I’m allowed to want him close, and I’m tired of letting fear stop me from reaching for what I want. I reach for him, curling my fingers into the front of his sweater as I close the last of the distance between us. His gaze drops to my mouth as his hands settle around my waist, and when I rise onto my toes, I’m the one who pulls him down and kisses him.

He hesitates for half a breath before his mouth moves against mine, and the hand at my waist slides around my back, pulling me closer. I tighten my fingers in his sweater and kiss him again, softer this time, until the back door opens behind me.

“Calliope?”

Dad’s voice pulls me away from Jubal as I turn toward the back door. Jubal’s hand is still around my waist when I see Dad standing there with a stack of mail in his hand. His fingers tighten around the stack of mail, bending the envelopes against his palm, and my throat closes around the answer.

“How long?”

“A few months.”

“You’ve been with my daughter for months, and neither of you thought I should know?”

Jubal’s jaw tightens as his hand slips from my waist. For a second, he doesn’t answer. “I’m sorry, Coach.”

“You should’ve told me.”