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Gillian scoffs. “Not friends. Not anymore. She’s…” She shakes her head. “Something is going on with her.”
I sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“She’s always been a little off, but lately it’s gotten to the point we’re worried about her. But she won’t accept any help. And we can’t sit there and just wait for her to finally accept that she needs some serious professional help,” Gillian explains. “So, Lola confronted her about the stuff she’s been saying and, to make a long story short, we’re cutting her out.”
I smile. “You’d really do that for me?”
Gillian looks at me like I’m crazy. “You’re my sister. Duh.”
“Plus, she never liked Willow anyway.”
“Harley.”
I laugh and let myself nestle into the spot between my two sisters. I might not have my mom, but I can always feel safe around them. And that means the world to me.
“Whatever she said to you, I wouldn’t take it seriously. Willow will do anything to get her way. She’s always been that way. And now that something has gone unhinged, well, there’s no telling what she’ll do,” Gillian explains.
There’s still so much I don’t know. And haven’t talked to Drew about.
“Come on. Let’s get back to the cute stuff, shall we?” Harley says.
While Gillian and Harley try to keep me distracted, my mind is racing. Maybe Willow is truly willing to do whatever she can to ruin my relationship and get Drew back. However, I am in the job of emotions. I know people don’t just do things out of thin air.
There’s a story here. I need to know about those texts. I need to know about the night Drew’s mom died.
And I need to know about his father too.
I need the truth. I need it now. And I need it from Drew.
24
DREW
I watchas the 3D printer slides back and forth as it constructs the latest part of the engine. This sucker has been one of my favorite investments. Now I don’t have to go into the office to work on my models, I can do it all from the comfort of my home.
It’s still going to take some time before this next piece will be ready, so I return to the model as it stands. About halfway done. No need for any more tinkering, but I can’t help myself removing a piece and putting it back in.
This will work. It has to.
A wave of déjà vu hits me. I don’t like it. Because it reminds me of a person I try desperately not to think about.
My father.
If there’s one thing I can say he gave to me, it was my love of building things. Those were the only good times we had, building model airplanes and doing puzzles together. Those were the moments I believed he would stay.
A memory hits me then.
We were in the middle of a model submarine. It only had a few more pieces to go. I was still clumsy at eight years old and unable to handle the glue with the necessary finesse. Dad was there to glue the pieces together.
The only time he was really there.
A tear falls down my face, blurring the model engine in front of me.
I’ve always been afraid of turning into him.
But now I know.I know.
I won’t be anything like him. I won’t walk out on my child or the woman I love. Because if my child loves me half as much as I loved and adored my father, my father who didn’t give a single shit about actuallybeinga father, then I know that is not a love worth betraying.
