25.
Seventeen years ago
Aubrey had never lied to her father before.
She’d misdirected, yes. Arranged the facts to suit her needs. She’d also omitted truths, like the fact that her boyfriend had been sharing her bed for half a year. But she’d never deliberately lied to her father until the morning of their impromptu vacation.
She sat at the breakfast table, gazing dully at a picture of the cabin he’d booked for the upcoming week of “rethinking her future.” The rental was an hour and a half away, on the shores of Lake Holiday, and, according to the information booklet, had no phone service. Aubrey would be off the grid for a week, with no way to reach Nick.
Which had undoubtedly been her father’s intention.
She quashed a sigh and set the pamphlet aside. Her mother was out in the driveway, packing the car, so she needed to do this now. Easier to lie to one of them than both.
“So... here’s the thing.” She pushed her waffles around on her plate. “I can’t take today off work. I talked to Renee this morning, and she said I’ll have to come in.”
Her dad barked a laugh. “Nice try. But you’re coming. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
“I know, Dad.” She made a face. “I’m not saying I can’t go, just that I can’t goright now.Renee found coverage for my other shifts, but today’s my responsibility.”
Responsibility.That seemed like a good word to toss in.
He stabbed at his waffle. “No.”
Aubrey ground her molars together. “But they’ll fire me if I don’t show up.”
“Then they’ll fire you. You don’t need that job anymore, anyway. You’re leaving for New York in three weeks.”
A silent scream sounded in her head.No, I’m not.
No use rehashing that now, though. She tried out a smile that could probably cut someone, if she wasn’t careful. “Come on. It’s my first job. It’s important to me to be honorably discharged.”
He grunted. “It’s not the military.”
“No, but it’s still my name on the line. My integrity.” Integrity. Responsibility. God, she was really digging deep.
He lowered his silverware and surveyed her.
She squeezed her fork until her fingers ached, shunting all her frustration into the metal. “Look. You and Mom can go up today and get everything ready. I have to work until eight tonight, but I’ll drive out to the cabin first thing in the morning.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to buy an extra night to go see that boy?”
Heat licked at the base of her throat.That boy.As if he didn’t know Nick’s name. “No. I’ll call him and tell him I’m leaving, but I won’t see him if you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t. Not until you’ve had time to think.”
“Okay.” Aubrey forced her grip to loosen and reached out with an upturned hand. “Then I’ll come straight home after work. I’ll be in bed by nine tonight, and I’ll head to the cabinthe second I wake up. You have my word. I just don’t want to get fired. I’d rather wrap things up on my terms. All right?”
The seconds stretched. Calculation flashed in his eyes.
Aubrey held her breath. She’d banked eighteen years of trustworthiness, apparently in preparation for this single moment. She prayed it would be enough to tip the tally in her favor.
Her father finally sighed and took her hand, his grip dwarfing hers. “All right. But you’d better be there before ten tomorrow. And you’d better look rested.”
Her heart kicked. She smothered the jolt with a tight smile. “Okay. Thanks.”
He squeezed. “Someday, you’ll look back on all this and thank me.”
She didn’t dare push her luck by responding, and instead polished off her waffles and went to change into her work clothes. She waved goodbye to her parents, got in her car, and headed for the bowling alley, glancing at the sky the whole time. In a surprising display of cooperation, the weather had delivered an incoming front of leaden clouds.
