EIGHT
Galen didn’t speak during the drive back to town. It wasn’t anger permeating the cab of his truck as much as thoughtfulness. That made it somehow worse.
“How long are you going to be like this?” I asked when he pulled into a parking spot in front of one of our favorite beachside restaurants.
He glanced over at me. Rather than speak, he shrugged.
I scowled. “This really wasn’t my fault.”
“We’ll talk about that when we get home.” He opened his door. “I texted an order when we were leaving the ranch. The food should be ready. Stay here.”
I considered arguing just for the sake of it. Instead, I turned my attention out the window and stared at the big moon, which would be full in a few days.
Galen went inside, retrieved our food — coming out with two huge bags — and put it on the floor in the backseat before hopping behind the wheel again.
“I feel as if I’m getting punished by my dad,” I complained as he took off in the direction of the lighthouse.
“Mmm-hmm,” was his taciturn response.
I glared at him. “You know, I’ve had a trying day.” Picking a fight with him was not smart. His silence irritated me to no end, however, and I couldn’t help myself. “You should be coddling me.”
“I’m pretty sure that spending a hundred and fifty bucks on your favorite foodiscoddling you,” he shot back.
Well, that was a point. “You should be petting me, stroking my hair, telling me how brave I am.”
“Were you brave?” he asked in his most diplomatic voice. “To me it seems you were stupid and had no choice but to be brave once you were on a different plane.”
That, too, was a fair point. “I didn’t realize what was happening.”
“You said it was calling to you.”
“It was.”
“What should you have done under those circumstances?”
“Well,Dad, I probably should have mentioned that I heard it whispering. I wasn’t planning on crossing. Booker coming toward me kicked my fight or flight response into high gear and it happened before I could even register it.”
“Which proves my point.”
My glare sharpened. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“I’m just the man who loves you more than anything, who would have been left behind never being able to follow to get you. I would have grown old trying to get to you, pictures of you living in a hellscape haunting me for eternity.
“There would never have been children or any happiness, not for a single instant,” he continued. “I would have turned into a shell of a person and never smiled again.”
He said it in a serious tone but I found myself smiling. “And you say I’m the dramatic one.”
He smirked. “That’s how it would have played out.”
“Please, you would have called a million different witches in until you found someone to open that door,” I argued. “You would’ve had me back in weeks.”
“If you had survived that long. It sounds as if there’s some sort of supernatural serial killer there, a creature who likes his work.”
And another point in his favor. “I’m sorry,” I blurted, not realizing I was going to apologize. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. Then, when I saw her … I lost all common sense.”
He pulled into our driveway, killed the engine, and gave me a sympathetic look. “And that’s why I’m going to coddle you when we get inside.”
Hope ignited in my chest. “So you’re no longer mad?”
