“What’s this about?” Dad grumped from somewhere, likely coming into the living room.
“Go sit on the couch,” she instructed him.
Grumbling about having been in the middle of something, he sat with a huge, put-upon sigh, and she went to sit next to him.
“Hey, Dad,” I said.
I could immediately tell he knew something was wrong. Well, from his perspective anyway. The way his eyes widened a little and the immediate attempt at looking stern and unflappable.
“Son, what’s going on?”
Mom moved so she could balance the laptop on their thighs, oddly reminiscent of the way River and I had watched the movie that first night. She gave me this loving, even if nervous, smile, then nodded.
I cleared my throat, feeling awkward. Then I remembered I was doing this for River, and for Mom and myself. Because Mom deserved to know. Who was to say he hadn’t been continuing his affair all this time?
“So, Dad, you know I’ve been working where River now lives,” I started, and he couldn’t hide the dislike in his eyes this time. “In fact, we’re together now. He’s my boyfriend, and I love him very much.”
Dad sneered. “But you’re not—”
“Gay? No, no I’m not. I’m actually asexual, but that’s beside the point. I’m in love with him.” I made eye contact with Mom, then looked back at Dad. “He told me what happened that day.”
For a few seconds, I could see the battle raging inside Dad. I could see how he considered denying it and telling us River had lied. But then he sort of deflated. He rubbed his chest over his heart, the motion seemingly unconscious, but Mom caught it.
She looked worried for a moment, then steeled herself, realizing how much what was coming was affecting him.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice quiet, oddly fragile, as if she was preparing for the worst.
“River overheard me on the phone,” Dad said very quietly.
I turned up the volume.
“Who were you talking with?” A tear rolled down Mom’s cheek.
“Dianna.”
“Tell her what River heard,” I prompted when both of them seemed to freeze.
I remembered Dianna. She’d been one of the secretaries at the office where Dad had worked.
He grimaced and looked down. “It was…” He stopped and swallowed, his face twitching a little. “It wasn’t anything a sixteen-year-old should hear.”
Mom let out an anguished little sound, then clearly gathered herself. “You told me he was dangerous. Youliedto me and said he was related tothat boy!”
“That boy” meant the shooter who killed my cousin and a few others the fateful day that started to change my mother.
I cursed under my breath. I’d wondered how he got her to agree so quickly. It was obvious now.
“I panicked, okay—”
“Donotuse excuses like that,” she snapped in a tone I hadn’t heard before. “Did you—” She stopped herself and glared at him. “You know what, that’s a private conversation.” She wiped her cheeks and looked at the screen again.
Bucky, hearing the upset tones from the computer, chose that moment to climb higher in his mission of getting onto my lap.
“Hey, come on now, boy. Everything’s fine,” I murmured to him, trying to keep the laptop level.
“Is that adog?” Mom’s eyes were wide.
“Yes, this is Bucky. He belongs to the foreman here. Bucky is a good boy. He wanted to see why everyone was so upset; he reads tones and body language really well.”
