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He wasn’t an idiot. “What just happened?”
Tension almost made her bite his head off. She glared at him from under the spill of her hair. “I just don’t want to eat here, okay?”
“Got it.” He stood up. “Let’s go.”
She sat hunched in the passenger seat of his truck, leaning against the door, knowing he wanted to interrogate her.
Sure enough, they’d barely made it to the main road before he said, “You know those girls?”
Becca looked out the window. “Not really.”
“Seemed like you did.”
She shrugged.
He let a moment pass. “Is this about a boy?”
“No!” She made a frustrated noise and shifted in the seat to face him. “Now you want to have the boy conversation? Are you kidding?”
He sighed. “I’d settle for any conversation.”
Becca straightened. Where’ve you been all this time?
The words were practically burning her lips. She just wasn’t ready for the answer.
“What about lunch?” she said when he turned onto her street.
Her dad kept his eyes on the road. “You didn’t seem like you were into it.”
Did he want an apology? One almost fell out of her mouth anyway. She bit at her lip as he pulled into the driveway. She was still struggling to think of what to say when he killed the engine.
She started to climb down from the cab and was surprised when he did the same.
“You’re coming in?” she said.
“I want to talk to your mother.”
Those words had weight to them, and she knew—she knew—they were going to talk about her. Probably thinking up some way to manipulate her into spending more time with him.
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“I’m not your enemy, Becca.”
She didn’t have an answer for that, so she bolted up the stairs as soon as they were through the door. He could talk to her mom all he wanted; she didn’t have to be a part of it.
Her mom would probably scrub the gutters with a toothbrush after this.
But maybe Becca could use this distraction to her advantage.
She pocketed her keys and crept down the stairs. Sure enough, they were talking in muted tones in the kitchen.
She could hear her mother’s voice. “Bill, you can’t show up and expect me to force her to—”
Then her dad’s whisper. “I don’t want you to force her to do anything. But something obviously happened, and I warned you—”
“Bye!” Becca yelled, opening the door wide. She could still smell paint. “Going to Quinn’s!”
“Becca,” her mother called. “Wait just a min—”
