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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Meghan
“I need your keys,” I say quickly, trying not to let on that something’s so very wrong, but of course, Dad doesn’t buy it.
“Why? What’s wrong?” he asks, pulling them from his pocket.
“Nothing. I just need to leave for a second.”
“A second?” he asks, clearly taking in my tear-stained face and my frantic breathing.
“Maybe longer. Can you get a ride home?” I ask.
“Of course, but are you okay? Did something happen?”
“Something…did. I can’t talk about it. I need to go.”
“Is it Nick? Did he do something?” he asks as he places the keys in my hand.
I take a deep breath. “He didn’t do anything. He’s just…wrong.”
Dad gives me a once-over. “Okay. The key to the house is there too, if you need it. I’ll catch a ride with Grandma and Grandpa,” he says, wrapping his hand around mine. “Everything’s going to be okay, Meggy. I promise.” He pulls me into his arms and gives me a hug. I want to stay, and I almost do. Wrapped in his arms gives off that same false sense of security I get when Nick does it. I feel safe and secure.
But it’s a lie.
“I’ll get your car back to you,” I tell him, pulling away.
“I’m not worried about the car. I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine.” Deep breath. “I’ll be fine.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him…or myself.
Probably both.
But Dad sees through it. If anyone can see past the hurt and fake front, it’s him.
I glance back at the water’s edge, but don’t see anything – or anyone. “Go. I’ll make sure he’s okay,” Dad offers. “And when you’re ready, he’ll be waiting.”
Blinking back the tears, I reply, “I don’t think he will.”
Dad places a kiss on my forehead. “Trust me, honey. He’ll be waiting.”
When I look at his eyes, I see his love – that unmistakable, unbreakable love that only a father has for his daughter.
Except, that’s not true.
I’ve seen that look before.
Twice.
And one’s dead because of me.
I quickly squeeze Dad’s hand and turn to the door. I move quickly, without making eye contact with anyone, and head toward the parking lot. Inside his car, I’m wrapped in comfort and memories. I stick the key in the ignition, and slowly pull out of the parking spot. As I move onto the road, I can’t help but glance to the water. Will he come after me? But I don’t see him.
It’s probably for the best.
I drive without a destination, yet know exactly where I’m headed. I pass the cemetery where my fiancé now rests and head out of town. When I reach the quiet country road, I turn off, and for the first time, wonder if I’m making a mistake.
It’s late.
