Grumpy: You skipping out today?
Skipping?I glance at the time and,holy crap, it’s after nine?
I’m about to text him back when his voicemails from yesterday blink on the screen. Instead, I hit thelistenbutton.
As I take in the sound of Joshua’s rough voice rushing to explain, I squeeze the phone. I listen to everything he tells me—about his mom being diagnosed, his dad taking off, their Saturday visits, her teaching him piano—then I replay and listen again. My throat tightens. He was hurt, and he could have shut me out again. It would’ve been easier. But he chose to talk to me.
That’s all I wanted. That’s all I’ve wanted from any of them.
I’ve practically memorized his voicemails by the time I finally hang up. Then, with my palms clammy, I text him back.
Me: It’s not technically skipping if it was an accident, is it? Besides, first period’s just English. Pretty sure Mr. Lancer won’t miss me.
I start to type again, but he replies before I get the chance.
Grumpy: I miss you.
My heart crashes like waves, my lips curving into a hint of a smile. I trace over the text with my thumb, thinking of the way I teased him before.
Me: Aha. You finally admit it.
I hold my breath and wait for his response.
Grumpy: So much.
A laugh escapes me, and my chest thrums with the need to see him. But I need to find Mom first. Letting out a sigh, I scan the empty room again before calling her.
“Pass on the love if you feel like it, hang up if you don’t. Either way, may you find your peace.”
“Hey, why’s your phone off? I’m late for school, but I’d rather skip out with you anyway. Where are you?”
A knock whips my head to the doorframe. Flipping my phone shut, I brighten when I see my dad, but the second I take in his appearance, a knot forms in my stomach. His tie hangs loosely around the collar of his shirt, partially untucked, and his hair isn’t styled. Mostly, though, his eyes are heavier than I’ve ever seen them, wrinkled around the corners.
“Dad?”
He clears his throat. “Morning, Bluebell. Hope you slept well.” He scratches his chin, looking at the carpet. “Did, uh ... did your mom tell you where she went, by chance?”
“She’s probably on a walk.”
“Right.” He tugs on his tie. “Right. Out of curiosity, when was the last time you saw her?”
“Um ...” I wrinkle my nose. “Last night, when we went to sleep? Why all the questions?”
“Just curious, I guess.” He smiles, but for a lawyer, he’s not a great liar. “I’m going to grab a coffee. See you downstairs?”
He pats the doorframe and turns away when I call, “Hey, what about school? Aren’t you going to ... I don’t know, yell at me or something?”
“What?” He looks back, lines forming on his forehead. “Why would I yell at you?”
“It’s a school day. Isn’t it, like, bad to skip? I thought normal parents got mad about that kind of thing.”
“Oh. Uh, no. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
He disappears down the hall, leaving me more confused than ever. These have been the weirdest few days of my life. After closing my door, I decide to get ready to take a shower, but a yellow paper on my pillow snags my eye before I make it to the bathroom. I walk to my bed and pluck it up.
Thank you.
My soul is so full tonight because of you.
