Page 10 of Dark Tangled Truths
It’s not phrased as a question, but there’s a lot of curiosity in her eyes. I blow out a breath, and she takes my arm to pull me into their circle. I’m not used to having to explain myself. She sits and picks up her wine glass as I sit on the edge of the couch.
The back of my neck prickles with nerves. My dad smiles like we do this all the time. Like somehow he’s comfortable with this. I blow out a breath.
“EvanAnn Ward. She’s the one who’s beating me for valedictorian.” I rub my hands together and study the shared look between my parents. It’s fucking weird. This whole thing is weird, but I don’t want to point it out.
“Has she stayed over a lot?” Mom asks, like the answer doesn’t matter, and takes a sip of her wine. But her eyes twinkle with curiosity. She wants to know.
“Not a lot.” Fuck, this isn’t what I want to talk about. My life is mine. I shift my focus to my dad. “What did you want to talk about?”
He has green eyes like me, and they harden just slightly as he leans forward to set his glass down. Is this cozy little family moment all a lie? A build up just to let me down? To pretend like we’re going to be fine once they divorce?
My shoulders tense as if waiting for a blow.
“We know things haven’t been easy these past few years.” Dad reaches his hand out to Mom and she takes it.
I stare at their joined hands, trying to figure out if this is a reconciliation or a parting of ways. My stomach churns, but I lift my gaze to my dad’s and wait. I don’t know which choice would be preferable.
“Work pulled us in opposite directions.” Mom smiles at Dad with a touch of sadness. “We all drifted apart.”
“We decided to figure out if this living arrangement worked for us.” Dad looks at Mom. His gaze softens. “We met up and decided we didn’t want this to end. We still love each other and you. We put our careers ahead of our relationship for so long we almost lost it.”
I clench my fists. “So what does this mean?”
“Well, we’ve taken vacation from work to sort some things out.” Dad rubs his thumb over Mom’s wrist as she smiles like he’s the most brilliant man alive.
“So, Cabo?” I raise an eyebrow. It makes sense they came home to tell me they’re going to work things out together. Alone. Which suits me just fine.
Mom laughs. “No. We’ll be staying here. You’re part of our family. We’re a little bit broken, but with time, we’ll be able to strengthen our bond again.”
I open my mouth, but what the fuck am I supposed to say to that? That’s great? I’m so excited for you? But seriously, I’m good? You two can fuck off to wherever you vanish to, and I’ll continue with my life the way it is, because it works for me.
“This is a good thing, Hawk.” Dad lowers his head and meets my eyes, almost like he’s daring me to back talk them.
I glance at Mom’s hopeful eyes. “I have a lot going on with hockey and the play.”
Mom grins and settles into her chair. “Oh, yes, the play.Othello, right? I can’t wait to watch it. When are your shows?”
“In about a month.” I expect her to fly in for one of the shows. This can’t last that long, right? A few days, maybe a week. My parents are devoted to their careers.
Mom lights up. “Perfect. That’s how long we took off.”
CHAPTER 4
Damon
Monday at school,everything feels the same as last week. With the exception that I drove Evan to school this morning so she wouldn’t have to try to hold on. I re-bandaged her hand and looked over all the little cuts.
Between classes in the hallway, we make sure we’re with Evan. Not an issue because Cam has her in literature and I have her in calculus and history. We make sure to take notes for her since her hand still hurts.
She has a red paper flower tucked behind her ear after first period that remained there through third. As I carry her tray out into the courtyard, Hawk has his arm wrapped around her waist.
“My parents are here to stay for at least the next month.” He shakes his head. He texted us the details last night while Evan and I slept. Evan told me about them this morning. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to get away with.”
Evan blows out her breath as she sits on the bench next to me. Her left hand braces on my shoulder to help her lower down. She holds her hand with the white gauze wrapped around it up a little. “This is like waving a red flag in front of my mom. She made me breakfast this morning.”
“I doubt she actuallymadeyou breakfast,” I say.
She smirks at me. “Probably not. The staff made me breakfast. She just gave it to me.”
