"Mom... she's in pieces about this." I press my fist to my mouth, swallowing a sob. "Jordan, can you maybe help Daddy? Do you think if you spoke to your father…? The news says there's evidence Daddy did it but that's got to be a lie. Right? Your father can do something."
"Listen, baby, I've spoken to my father already, and he's promised to look into it."
Joy bubbles through me. "You've… spoken to him already?" I whisper. "When?"
There's a pause.
"This morning," he admits.
"Oh." I sink down on the edge of my bed. "Before the news broke?"
"Yes."
"In person? Brendan Farrington is in town? And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't want to worry you until I had something concrete," he says quickly. "I know this is a lot, Bree, but we will fix it. It'll all be okay."
"Oh, I hope so." I wipe my eyes, breathing hard. Somewhere under the panic, a small, sharp sting begins to form. "I really do. Jordan. I… Um…"
I can't say it out loud—that I need him like oxygen. That my chest hurts so badly I can't breathe without him.
"What do you need, baby?" he asks gently. I can hear how much he wants to be there from the way his voice drops. For a moment I almost feel better.
"Can I see you?" I blurt. "I know we agreed to wait until after exams but my head is scrambled now. I don't even think I can do tomorrow's paper. I—just come and get me. Please."
Silence.
"Sweetie, I'm not in Henderson right now," he says finally.
I swallow hard. "You're not? Where are you?"
"Houston."
The word hits me like a fist.
"Oh? When did you leave?" My heart is racing now, my anxiety turning into something colder.
"This afternoon," he says. "There was a jet waiting. Work stuff. I didn't have a choice."
"You didn't… text me?" I feel stupid as soon as I say it. But it spills out anyway. "You just left without even letting me know."
"Baby, I was going to." He sounds pained. "It all happened so fast. My father—" He breaks off, exhales. "It's complicated."
I close my eyes, dread knotting in my belly. "Okay. When are you coming back?"
"I'll come as soon as I can."
"That's not an answer, Jordan."
"Do you trust me?" he asks.
"Yes," I breathe. It's automatic. Reflex. The truest thing I know.
"Then wait."
"Wait for what?" I ask quietly.
He doesn't respond. The silence says everything.
