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“Nope,” I answered.
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?”
Okay. That stomach thing was getting pretty bad (I felt like I was going to puke), but the anger inside me was so much stronger, and I didn’t care one bit that he saw it.
“You asked the question. I gave you an honest answer.” The fact that I stressed the word honest wasn’t lost on him. He flinched. Score one for Everly.
Dad set his mug on the kitchen table and ran his hands over the top of his head.
“This is serious, Everly.”
“Damn right, it’s serious.”
“Are you and he…well, are the two of you…”
Wow. He was going all in on this one. I considered adding one more lie to my short list, but in the end, I was just too damn tired and emotional to play games.
“I haven’t slept with Trevor Lewis, if that’s what you’re trying to ask me. And even if I had, it’s really none of your business. I’m almost eighteen.”
I moved to the other side of the kitchen table and leaned my hip against it, going for the calm and composed look, but the real truth was that I needed something between us. Something hard and solid. Because this right now? This conversation felt surreal.
“It was wrong of you to lie to your mother, Everly. Wrong of you to go away with a boy and not tell us. If anything had happened to you…how would we know?”
Okay, this wasn’t going at all the way I’d envisioned. Why were we talking about me? Did he think I’d just forget? That I wouldn’t ask the questions that were right there, hiding in my head?
I took a moment, a good long moment, and studied the man in front of me. The man who’d always been my rock. My hero. There’s something heartbreaking in knowing that the person you’ve idolized your entire life isn’t the Superman you’d always thought him to be. He’s not made of steel. He’s flesh and blood, and his Kryptonite is his humanity.
“Can I ask you a question now?” I asked softly, watching him closely.
Dad’s eyes got all shiny, the way mine did just before I was about to have one of those moments. You know, an ugly one. He dropped his head for a second, as if the stupid mug was going to somehow help him, and then he nodded.
“Sure,” he said, his voice so low I barely heard him. I think he knew what I was going to ask before I even opened my mouth.
“Why were you in Baton Rouge with Kirk Davies?”
Kirk Davies. The guy who’d been coming around our home since I could remember. He’d been at my birthday parties, at family gatherings, and he’d even spent a few Christmases with us. He was funny and charming and hot in a CW kind of way. He liked to draw, told funny stories, and had the most beautiful smile that you can imagine. He was my parents’ oldest friend, a guy they’d gone to college with, and he was totally, unequivocally, one hundred percent gay.
No one had ever said it out loud, but I knew.
Dad cleared his throat, took his time just like I had, but there was nowhere to run. No place to hide in this kitchen. There was the pantry, the fridge, and the table. There was the heavy silence full of dark and painful things.
There was him and me.
And now, finally, the truth.
“Kirk and I… We were there for the celebrations.”
Celebrations. Did he think I was stupid?
“I don’t believe you.” My heart was beating, fast and hard, but I didn’t waver. This was too important. Too hard. But I had to know.
Dad’s mouth tightened, and his gaze slid from mine, which spoke volumes to me.
“He lives in New Orleans, doesn’t he?” I asked. “Is that why you’re there all the time? Is he the reason you go?”
“What is this? I counsel a—”
“You’re lying!” Something broke apart inside me. My voice was shrill and loud, and that cliff I’d been standing on forever it seemed, was suddenly right there. My toes were over the edge, and I was going to fall, but I didn’t care anymore. “Can you just be honest with me? I know, Dad.” My voice broke, and dammit, there were those tears again. “I know.”
