Page 53 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
“I don’t know. I wish I could say they won’t be, but I just don’t know.”
“Why did she leave?”
The question crushes me like a ton of bricks and I choke on the silence that ensues. I don’t know how to answer. She hasn’tasked the question that directly before. After Talia left, we talked about how she was gone, that she wasn’t going to come back, but I think the shock overtook a lot of the deeper, more painful questions. Then we came here and we’ve kind of lived in la-la land ever since.
“I think—” I swallow thickly. My heart is in my throat. “She decided she wanted a life that looked different than ours. She couldn’t see how incredible the life we had was and chose to go after something else. It was selfish, and I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve made her stay—for you, for us.” I wrap my arm around her, her snowsuit sliding across the leather seat as I pull her close. “I willalwaysstay. I will always be here. I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, praying I can be enough for her.
She nods but doesn’t speak. The chair nears the top of the hill, signaling it’s our turn to get off. We don’t fall, so that’s something. We’re standing at the precipice of the mountain once again, looking down at the place we’ve called home for six weeks.
“I wish we could stay,” she says, breaking the silence, and then she takes off down the hill.
“Me too,” I mutter. “Me too.” Then I take off after her, my mind moving faster than we are, trying to figure out how I can make that wish come true for both of us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rory
Itap on my steering wheel as I stare down the red light. Driving to have dinner with my parents is the last thing I want to be doing tonight. But it’s Sunday night, and seeing as I skipped out on dinner last week—and forgot to call and cancel—there’s no escaping it this week.
I’ve been summoned—to Dad’s house, no less—which feels ominous somehow. We usually meet at a restaurant because they can never agree on whose house to eat at if we try for a home-cooked meal. Not that I’m expecting anything. Mombarely cooked when we were kids, and I’ve never seen Dad lift a finger in the kitchen.
As I pull up to Dad’s A-frame house, the gravel crunches under my Subaru’s tires even through the layer of snow. I don’t want to leave the comfort of my car, but I’m here now, so I might as well get this over with. I watch each step I take over the slick ground, ignoring the anxiety building in my veins.
I want to be holed up in a little condo drinking hot chocolate through a cookie straw, watching kid movies on the couch with Willow and getting lost in Breck’s arms when the lights go out. They leave on Friday, and this dinner is taking me away from one of my last nights with them.
My gloved finger barely brushes the doorbell before the door swings open. Mom stands on the other side, looking me over with irritation in her eyes.Oh good, it’sgoing to be one of those nights. At least I won’t have to wait out their small talk before we get to the disappointment part of the evening.
“Come in,” she says and turns on her heeled foot. Did it just drop fifteen degrees in here?
“Good evening to you too,” I mutter under my breath, sliding off my boots.
The smell as I move through the lavish house alleviates a little bit of tension in my shoulders. Scents of curry, spices, and coconut milk make my mouth water. The aromatic dishes sit on the long oak table and, just as I open my mouth to compliment the food choice, my dad’s voice cracks through the room like a whip.
“Sit, Rory.” Deep blue eyes, identical to Wes’s but with none of the warmth, bore into me. They’re cold as ice and my body freezes under their stare. I don’t even know what I’m in trouble for, but it’s clear that I am, and I feel ten years old again.
I duck my chin and move to my seat, awaiting the hammer that’s poised to fall as soon as Mom takes hers across from me.
“Anything we should know, Rory?” he questions, eyes narrowing. He sits stick-straight; shoulders tense around his ears.
Shit. Do they know about me and Breck? No, that can’t be right. I shake my head, the confusion clear on my face. Dad’s features harden and Mom’s face holds nothing but disappointment.
“What’s going on?” I ask, worrying my thumb between my teeth.
“What’s going on?” Dad condescends. “I’d love for you to answer that question. I’d love for you to own up to what you were doing last week when you didn’t show up for dinner.”
“I… I told you I wasn’t feeling well,” I stammer. I’ve never been good at lying.
Mom scoffs and Dad slams his hand on the table beside his plate, rattling the silverware and glasses.
“You’re really going to pretend you weren’t too busy with another elopement to show up for your obligations? Too busy dragging Wes’s friend into your nonsense?”
My mouth pops open. Their knowing shouldn’t surprise me, but somehow it does. And their referring to Breck as “Wes’s friend” stings too. He’s my friend—maybe a little more than a friend—and yeah, spending time with him felt more important than dinner last week.
My mom sees the realization as it dawns and purses her lips with a nod. “You really thought we wouldn’t find out you’ve been taking on more of these photography projects? It wasn’t just the one for Jamie’s friend and then your brother’s. We know about all the others. You think we don’t know what you do? Like we’d let our daughter run amok and tarnish our family name in this community.”
“But I—how?” I can’t form words. I don’t understand.
I avoid Mom’s eyes, glancing at Dad instead, and the look in his gaze crushes me. I’ve strived not to disappoint my parents for years and here I am, a bigger disappointment than ever. I can almost feel it radiating off them.
