Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“It’s so nice for all of us to sit down and have a meal like this.” Mom is back to her benevolent saint act, sitting at the end of the table with her new tan and a warm smile. “There’s nothing like coming home after a trip and finding my family here.”
Because she didn’t already have a family before this? I guess Lucy and I didn’t count. It doesn’t come as a surprise.
“I’m only sorry business cut the trip short.” Mr. Ambrose is plowing through his food. He probably has to get back to whatever brought them home a few days early.
“It means I get to be with my babies.” Great. As if I didn’t already have trouble keeping food down.
“I’m done,” Hayes says. I was so busy trying not to throw up thanks to Mom’s performance, I didn’t notice Hayes shoveling food into his mouth. “I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Stay,” Mr. Ambrose mutters around a mouthful of roast beef. “I haven’t seen you all week.”
“Seriously? This is the second time we’ve sat down as a family for dinner, and that makes maybe three times total for the two of us unless it’s a holiday. Don’t act like this is a huge tradition I’m breaking.”
“We’re trying to create new traditions.” The men stare each other down for a beat before Hayes pulls his chair closer to the table.
So what does he decide to do next?
“Morgan’s been making new friends at school since you left,” Hayes says. “I heard them gossiping in the bathroom today.” His smile is almost natural.
“You hang around outside the girls’ bathroom a lot? Do you wish you could use it?” I ask.
Lucy bursts out laughing, which for a moment breaks the tension. Why does he have to be this way? If he heard us, he should know I was covering for him.
“Morgan,” Mom warns.
“I’m only teasing my brother.” I smile across the table at Hayes. “Yeah, I was having a really fun conversation with Madison.”
“It sounded that way.”
What is he trying to do? Get me in trouble? Why do I care about him getting arrested again? Sometimes I can’t remember.
“We were talking about the concert in the park the other night,” I say. “She said some crazy stuff happened. It’s all anybody’s been able to talk about since then.”
“See?” Mr. Ambrose gestures with his knife. “This is why I’m against letting kids go out on school nights. Things happen and distract them from their work the next day.”
I raise an eyebrow, daring Hayes to push it further. I’m not about to break down the way he wants me to.
“What’s that?” Hayes points at my half-hidden bite mark. “Looks like a bite?”
“Yeah, a bug bite.” I adjust my top to cover it and seriously wish his father had let him leave the table. “No big deal.”
His nostrils flare. I don’t get it. Does he want me to announce how I got this? Or am I supposed to dissolve into tears and run away from the table? It’s like he wants me to break down—and when I don’t, it only enrages him.
“Can I please go now? I made plans before I knew we were doing this whole family dinner thing tonight.” Hayes stands, tossing his napkin to his plate.
“Let him go, sweetheart,” Mom coos. “We did sort of spring this on him. At least one of the kids has an active social life.” Nice way to slide in a dig at me, but I’m too relieved Hayes is getting out of here to care.
“Do you have plans tonight?” Mr. Ambrose asks me as he gets up from his chair.
“No, I have studying to catch up on.”
“Hayes could take a lesson from you.” He offers a wink, then goes to the other end of the table to offer Mom a kiss on her cheek before heading to his study.
I’m happy to let Lucy chatter away through what’s left of the meal. I don’t have much to offer right now. If either of our parents knew what happened this week… I don’t even want to imagine it, though that won’t stop my brain from coming up with all kinds of scenarios.
Later, in my room with my laptop and books, I keep an ear out for Hayes’s return. A part of me expects him to invite himself into my room like he has before, but the doorknob doesn’t even jiggle.
By the time I fall asleep, he still hasn’t come home.
20
By Sunday afternoon, Salem looks a little pale, a little drawn, and she’s not as bubbly as I’ve gotten used to seeing her. But at least we’re hanging out for the first time since she slept over.
“Here’s a tip: don’t mix painkillers and booze unless you’re with people you trust.” Salem frowns down at the fries she’s moving around on her plate. “I’m not taking them anymore. I don’t like who I am when I do.”