"This is good. Real good, Scout. Just like your mom used to make."
My eyes sting with tears that I refuse to let fall. "Thanks, Dad."
"The house looks nice too." He glances around like he's actually seeing it for the first time today. "You're just like her, you know. Always doing things for me. Taking care of everything. Making sure I'm fed and the place is clean."
His words land like punches. Suddenly, I can’t breathe.
"I should grab... something." I rush to the other side of the kitchen, pressing my palms flat against the counter, fighting the tears that want to come. Behind me, I hear Silas's chair scrape.Please. Please don't come over here right now. I’m barely holding it together.
I slink out of the room, just out of sight. Sitting at an angle where I can see Silas and part of my dad’s back, but they can’t see me, helps me to calm down. I blow out a slow stream of breath.
Si clears his throat. "Thank you for having me."
My dad takes a second to answer. "I think I should probably be thanking you, son."
Silas waves his fork. "I'd do anything for your daughter, sir."
"You can call me Tom." My dad sizes Silas up. "So I'm guessing that you're a hockey player?"
Silas pauses then says, "Yeah."
A few moments pass before my dad says, "Scout just divorced a hockey player."
"Yeah. Enzo." Silas's voice goes hard as steel. "I'm not him. We're nothing alike."
"Didn't say that you were." Dad's laugh is thin as paper. "Scout's wonderful, you know. She's always been so helpful. It's how she shows she cares, I guess. Must have learned it from her mother."
"She is helpful," Silas says. His voice is quiet but absolutely fierce. "I try not to take advantage too much. Scout's always looking out for everybody. She needs someone who'll take care of her."
"And that's you?"
Silence stretches. "I'd like it to be."
"I see. Well, I don't care how big and brawny you are, son. If you hurt my little girl, I'll kick your ass."
Si's head dips. "Yes sir."
God, Silas is pushing all of my buttons. Wiping my eyes hastily, I force myself to go back out, even though I want to hide. My dad is standing now, looking uncomfortable in a way I've never seen. Silas has barely touched his food.
"I should go lie down," my dad mutters. "Thanks for dinner, Scout. And for cleaning. Both of you."
He gives me a half-hearted hug and kiss on the cheek, then totters off toward the staircase. It hurts my heart to seehim walk. He's out of shape and sort of shuffle-hobbles up the stairs.
Silas looks toward the window. "The weather is getting worse. Visibility's going to be terrible on those mountain roads. We should probably hunker down here for the night."
"Oh god." I rush to the window and see flurries falling from the sky. My stomach drops. "We can’t stay here. There's a motel a few miles down the road toward town that I usually stay at."
"Why not stay here? The house has room."
"It's just... wouldn't be good. Dad doesn't like the house disturbed by overnight guests."
Silas looks pointedly at the cluttered living room I just cleaned. The pile of junk mail. The years of accumulated neglect. "The house was already disturbed."
"Silas. Please." My voice cracks. "We'd have to clean out a room, okay? Trust me when I say that it's a whole can of worms. Let's just go."
I say goodbye to my dad through his bedroom door. He gives me what might be a 'drive safe' without opening the door. That’s all I get.
Silas helps me into my coat and hustles me out the door. Luckily the snow flurries are mixed with rain, so it's sleeting more than anything. Still not great driving weather, but way better than being trapped in this American Gothic rerun.
