As I help myself to a small stack of pancakes, Jack’s eyes brighten and, look at that, he finds his voice. He tells me all about baby Jackson and how Mrs. Baker’s daytime classes are going, pausing only to pour himself that second cup of coffee and add a heaping spoonful of sugar to it. I think he’s glad to havesomething safe to talk about, something that doesn’t revolve around hunting lurkers.
Then again, he’s always been something of a gossip. My mom used to tease him mercilessly about it, but he always said it had something to do with spending most of his time at the firehouse. Now, though, as our leader, it seems most of the juiciest gossip comes straight to him. And since I’m all but under house arrest nowadays, he feels like he has to tell me all about it.
“This weekend we have six birthdays to celebrate,” he says, and that at least makes me feel a little more hopeful. I’m allowed to go to the daytime affairs if I want to. I haven’t in ages, but it’s nice to know there’s something to celebrate in this terrible world. “Mrs. B already agreed to bake the cakes,” he continues, “and I’ll have some of the boys spruce up the decorations down at the school. We’re going to need it, too. I heard from Charlie down at the corner that his boy Scott wants to marry Pamela Ascher as soon as—oh.”
My fork falls from my hand, clattering against the wooden tabletop. My mouthful of pancakes suddenly tastes like sand. I have to force myself to swallow.
Jack clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable as we both realize he won’t finish his sentence. He takes a small sip of his coffee, despite the smoke still swirling above the mug, if only to have something to do. I'm silent as I hesitantly pick my fork back up.
I don’t take another bite.
He looks down at me as if wondering what to say next—or if he should even attempt to say anything else at all. He should’ve known better, or maybe I shouldn’t be so sensitive. Who knows? His brow furrows and, while I’m not happy about it, I’m also not surprised at the turn the conversation takes?—
“Speaking of…” He shakes his head, frowning. Wrong start. “I mean, I almost forgot to tell you. Chase stopped by the house last night. I told him you were sleeping.”
He doesn’t add theagain, but it hangs there at the end.
I bite down on my bottom lip, trying to fight the frown. “What did he want?”
My unsaidnowjoins hisagain.
“He just wants to talk. He misses Hallie.”
“He’s not the only one,” I mutter.
Jack sets his coffee down on the countertop. There’s that set to his jaw again. I’m not getting out of this lecture. It’s pointless, though. I could probably mouth it along with Jack, I’ve heard it so often. It’s not going to change anything.
“Listen, honey—” It’s alwayshoneywhen Jack feels sorry for me. It stings almost as much asHallie. “I miss her, too. I’d give anything to get her back… your mom, Rory… I would sell my soul to have them with us again. But we have to understand that we can’t?—”
“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?” My heart starts beating a little faster. I shove my pancakes away from me and climb out of the chair. “I’ll eat these later. Leave ‘em here, okay?”
“Allie, stop.” Jack sounds tired, defeated. My blood is racing, my pulse pounding, but I listen to him. He’s my dad, after all, and he’s lost just as much as I have. More, really, if you count me… “I’m doing the best I can.”
“Yeah? Well, we all are. It’s called surviving.” I’m sorry, but I can’t stay in the kitchen any longer. I can’t stand the sympathy in his eyes, and the pain etched into every premature wrinkle on his face. I have to get the hell out of here. “Bye, Jack.”
“Where are you going?” he calls after me.
I huff under my breath, scowling as I peer back at him. “Does it really matter? How far can I really get?”
Jack’s sigh is like a knife to my heart. I know I’m taking all of my frustrations out on him because he’s the only one around, and I also know it’s not fair.
Too bad I can’t find a way to stop myself.
And then he says absolutely the wrong thing, and it only getsworse.
“If this is about Chase?—“
Inside the sleeves of Rory’s jacket, my hands clench into tight fists. “I’ve told you before,” I say through gritted teeth, “it’s got nothing to do with him.”
He doesn’t believe me. And he shouldn’t. We both know that I’m lying.
Jack covers his cheek with his hand. “I know it’s hard, Allie, but you’re going to have to face him eventually.” His voice is shaky as he takes a deep breath before exhaling roughly. “You can’t avoid him forever.”
That’s what he thinks. I know all of Chase’s patrol schedules. Avoiding him is one of the only things Icando.
If only to get into the sunshine and out of my prison cell, I’d planned to take a walk over to the old high school after breakfast. It’s only about a half-mile trek from the Oak Grove Condominiums, and one of the few places where they leave the lights on all the time. I like to disappear into the depths of the library, not because I find any real joy in reading these days, but because it’s quiet and hardly ever occupied.
After my argument with Jack, I changed my mind, choosing to return to ‘my’ room instead. I have to. The Knights’ two-story house is directly across the street from Madison High, andthough Chase is the only one living there now, I refuse to risk the chance of running into him.
