Page 29

“Trying to modify this to make it easy for you to drive once you’re given the okay.”

His eyes crinkle as he braces a hand on the doorframe, easing his weight off his bad knee. “You’re too good to me. And optimistic—based on the physio schedule the doctors recommended starting in another week, I might not survive long enough to drive again. Now come inside for dinner.”

He heads back toward the house and my shoulders slump in relief. Despite a couple of close calls, I haven’t had any major mishaps. He still thinks I’m working at the diner during the day and out with friends at night.

I even kept my poker face through the entire broadcast of the F1 race over the weekend, the two of us chirping about race strategy, summer break gossip, and the Dekker firing.

Now my phone vibrates with a text.

Theo: Tell me how amazing I am.

Shay: At…?

Theo: Lots of things, now that you mention it. I have exceptional hands. Unbelievable stamina

My dream comes back, warmth tingling between my thighs.

Theo: But today, I did a drive by the admin building. Found something interesting…Your dad has a file at the academy.

Shay: You mean a file at ARI.

Theo: No. The academy.

What the hell? Why would my dad have a file at the academy? Surprise blurs with unease.

I shift out of the truck, shoving the phone in my pocket as I try to make sense of Theo’s words.

I’m on autopilot as I head into the house, taking off my shoes and washing up at the sink before I dry my hands and pull my phone out again.

Shay: What was in it?

The three dots blink up at me. Then Theo’s message loads.

Theo: Got interrupted before I could explore any further.

The hairs on my neck lift.

“What the hell is going on,” I mutter, my pulse kicking.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Dad says from behind me, holding up my schoolbag. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Shit.

“You’ve been going to the academy.” Dad’s voice is full of accusation. More than that, there’s betrayal.

The guilt that’s been simmering in my stomach boils over like acid in my throat.

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“The start of the semester. You got hurt and I couldn’t go to back to college this semester.”

“You could have.” He makes it sound simple when it was anything but.

“I didn’t want to! I figured I could take a semester of courses at the academy, then transfer those credits once you’re on your feet.”

He drops my bag on the table as if he can’t stand to touch it.