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“Why?”
I hesitate, questioning how much I should divulge. After all, my dad works for his dad, and telling Blaise the truth—that my dad generally tends to screw people over within that timeframe—doesn’t seem like a great idea.
I settle on, “We just like a change of scenery, I guess.”
Skepticism weighs in his eyes, but he drops the subject as we arrive at the outskirts of town and he turns into a gas station.
I check the time and frown. I’m two hours late for school already.Crap.
“Sorry, but the tank’s already red lining,” he apologizes as he notes me frowning at the clock. “I promise I’ll hurry. And I can drop you off at school before I take Alex back to the house.”
“It’s fine. You can go home, and I can just drive myself to school … I don’t want to make you drive to the school with him in the back seat like that”—I nod at Alex—“and risk getting pulled over or something.”
“Are you sure?” he asks as he parks next to a pump.
“Yep, it’s cool. Either way, I won’t make it there until after lunch anyway.”
He silences the engine then gives me a strange look. “Thanks, Hadley. What you did this morning … and agreeing not to say anything …” He clears his throat. “But yeah, thanks. I haven’t felt this grateful in a very long time.”
“No worries. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Yeah, it really is.” Hereallystares at me again. “Especially with how shitty I treated you when we first met and almost every time after that. I wish I hadn’t, but … yeah, I’m just sorry.”
“Like I said, no worries.” As we start to share yet another moment, I bail out of the car. “I’m going to go get some coffee. You want anything?”
“I’m good, but thanks.” His gaze remains glued on me, dissecting me.
Or maybe he’s just staring at that stupid hickey I know is on my neck.
“Okay.” I shut the door and hightail it into the gas station, my heart racing in my chest. I don’t know what the fucker’s problem is today, but it needs to chill out. So what if Blaise isn’t nearly as bad as I originally thought? My heart doesn’t need to get all fluttery over it. It should be tougher than that.
Ishould be tougher than that.
“Remember the rules,” I mutter to myself as I enter the gas station. “We don’t need this getting out …” I trail off as I spot my dad’s truck through the window, parked in the side parking lot. A much nicer truck is parked beside it that has heavily tinted windows.
Curious as to what my dad is doing here in the middle of the day, I start to head back outside to ask, when the door to the nicer truck opens and my dad hops out. I pause, watching as he peers around nervously. Then he collects a large duffel bag from the truck, hurriedly climbs into his own truck, and then peels out of the parking lot, kicking up a cloud of dust.
I grind my teeth as I watch him speed off down the highway. “Another duffel bag, Dad? Really?”
I have a very suspicious and very unnerving feeling that the contents of that bag might be very similar to the bag buried in our backyard.
Just what the hell has my dad gotten mixed up in? And does this have anything to do with his new job?
My gaze floats over to where Blaise is standing next to his SUV. He’s currently swiping his card in the machine, but his eyes are trained on the road, right in the direction my dad drove off in.
19
HADLEY
I remain fairly stuckin my own head for most of the remaining drive home, my mind crammed with questions. Questions about my dad. About what he was doing at the gas station with yet another duffel bag. Questions about Blaise. Like, how much he knows about my dad and about Blaise himself. The biggest question: what led him to seek guardianship of his brothers? What line was crossed that he finally decided they were better off without him?
How am I supposed to ask him any of this? I barely know him. He barely knows me. Why would he share his personal story with me? He may very well not, but at this point, I’m becoming desperate enough to ask.
I take a sip of my coffee then flick a quick glance to make sure Alex is still passed out before turning in the seat toward Blaise. He’s hardly said more than a handful of words since we left the gas station, either stuck in his own head, too, or tired of chatting with me.
“I have to ask you a question.”
Breaking the silence makes him jolt.
