Deceived by Julie Anne Lindsey Page A

apartment, I locked the door and used the chain. I left the lights off and moved to the window. The Jeep drove away. The driver was nothing more than a silhouette behind the wheel.
    A knock on my door sent terror coursing through me again. I froze. Everything stopped. A humming in my ears warned that I should sit before I fell over. Worst night ever.
    “Gabriella?” Dad’s voice. Confusion swallowed the fear, and I shuffled toward the door to the tiny peephole in shock. My dad stood outside staring back at the little hole, looking agitated.
    I unlocked the door. Dad pushed himself inside, closing the door behind him. He embraced me as if he hadn’t seen me in a decade. His forehead pinched in the center and his lips turned down at the corners. A tremor played over my hands. Something was wrong.
    “Dad, what’re you doing here?” Nervous energy translated well to excitement over our reunion. My arms wound around his waist. I laid my head against his chest and fought back tears.
    He pulled me back by the shoulders and looked me over. He mashed his lips together the way he did when he worried. “Looks like you’ve settled in nicely.”
    “Yeah.” I locked my arm into his elbow. My breaths were shallow as I pulled him in a slow circle around the room. “I burn meals in this kitchen on a daily basis. The bedroom is covered in clothes I hardly get to wear, and the bathroom is invaded by a tiny punk girl frequently. Consider yourself warned. You’ve seen the grand foyer and magnificent great room.” Our tiny apartment was a direct contrast to the giant old Victorian home my dad lived in now. I loved that one better than all the others before it.
    “Well, it’s a heck of a lot nicer than any of the dorm rooms I ever had. Wait until next year when you’re sharing a room the size of your current bathroom with four other girls and sharing the actual bathroom with an entire floor full of coeds. The words community showers ought to help you appreciate this place.” He flopped onto the sofa and pulled me down beside him.
    “Coeds?”
    He slid his eyes my way.
    “I do like it here.”
    He furrowed his brow, unsure.
    “What’re you doing here?” I touched his sleeve to be sure he was real.
    “Well, when we spoke the other night, you seemed unhappy, and I never want that for you. I worried.” He rubbed a hand over his knee. “I stopped by to make sure you’re okay. Like I said, I won’t be that far from you again. I’m sorry. I meant what I said about working around here for a while.” He looked truly heartbroken, as if he’d done me a terrible injustice by going away on business. I never thought he minded traveling.
    Emotional from the night’s events, hearing him sound so guilty pushed me over the edge. I threw my arms around his neck, and tears ran free again. “I really miss you, Dad. I hate when we’re apart. I’m not unhappy. I was just homesick.” I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and felt about ten years younger.
    He kissed my head and pulled my hair away from my face until I finished crying and sat upright.
    I wanted to remove any guilt I might’ve saddled him with. “I like it here.”
    “Not too much, I hope.” His eyes narrowed, and I knew he wanted to know about boys. His biggest concerns next to security when he chose Francine Frances had been the boy-girl ratio and campus policies on dating. As if he thought there might be some.
    “Why?” I hoped I sounded as innocent as I intended.
    “Well, honey.” He stalled before he rallied. “I’d like to move you to a school closer to our new home.” Gentle emphasis hung on the word new . He didn’t mean the latest new home, the one that was my favorite so far. He meant we were moving again.
    “What? We’re moving? Again? When? Where?”
    “Well, it’s a part of the job. It provides us all the comforts we’re accustomed to, like food and shelter.” His face gave warning. “This time we’re moving west. There’s a small town outside of