protective stance between the two of us. She stared up at him with hope in her eyes.
“It’s okay, Sam. I’ll get ya leveled out.” He gently moved her hair from her eyes before he ushered her toward the house.
With a quick glance over his shoulder, he gave me a reassuring smile. I hoped he’d be able to bring Sam around to the sober way of life. He had to or I didn’t know what I’d do.
I got in the car and drove home, aware Dad would probably be pacing the living room since it was after dark. Loneliness hit hard as a gentle rain danced on the windshield. Though I didn’t want to go home, I had nowhere else to go, or anyone I could talk to about things.
Dad luckily only gave me a fatherly look when I walked in. I told him I was tired, overwhelmed, and needed to be alone. He gave me a sideways hug from the comfort of his La-Z-Boy, and went back to watching some war program on the history channel. I would have given anything to have him pry just a little, but went directly upstairs instead.
Tomorrow the bomb would drop. Tomorrow everyone would discover Sam was missing. Tomorrow the nightmare would begin again and the chasm between my two lives would grow even bigger.
All I could do was curl up in my bed with Nicholas’ journal wrapped in my arms and sob.
Chapter Eleven
“Well, look who finally decided to get out of bed,” Dad remarked, looking over the top of his newspaper.
I stumbled into the kitchen and went directly for the coffee pot.
“You sleep okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I mumbled and poured myself a cup with extra sugar and cream.
“How are you handling everything?”
I shrugged. A s good as can be expected.
“’Cause if you need to talk … ”
“I’m fine, Dad.” I gave him the “don’t try to console me” look. Yesterday, I’d hoped to sit and finish where we left off, but not now—not after everything that happened last night.
“I contacted Connie at ET. She agreed to talk with you.”
I huffed and cocked my head to the side. Though he flowed out an enormous dose of concern and I should have been grateful, he didn’t have my permission to talk to Connie or anyone for that matter. He feigned an apologetic smile as I clenched my jaw before I wordlessly breezed past him and headed upstairs.
At the same time I heard a knock at the door. A wave of anxiety from the stranger struck me hard and stopped me midstride.
“Jules, will you get that?”
I gripped the railing, dread inching up my skin. “I’m in my pajamas.”
Dad scuffed the chair against the floor when the knocking persisted. “Okay, okay.”
I should have darted up the stairs but I couldn’t make myself go. I had to know who was there. My heart almost stopped when my eyes met Sam’s mom’s.
“Please tell me Samantha is here.” She stood on her tiptoes to peer over Dad’s shoulder, her hair wild and eyes crazed. “Sam?” she called into our house.
“I don’t think she’s here, but please come in.” Dad moved to the side. “Jules?”
I gulped and wished I could tell her anything to give her some hope.
“She’s not here, Mrs. King.”
Mrs. King’s face blanched. “Did she call you? Do you know where or who she might be with?”
Dad squinted his eyes as my gaze ping-ponged between the two. I struggled to answer. “I haven’t heard from her.”
“Nancy, let’s figure this out in the living room. I’m sure she’s with a friend or boyfriend, and too embarrassed to call.” He took her arm but she stayed frozen, her eyes—laden with dark circles—fixed on me.
My breathing accelerated as her suspicion clamped hard into my psyche, squeezing me like a vice. Did she know something? I cleaned up the best I could, minus the destroyed carpet. Under her stare, everything inside screamed to confess. Surely we could trust Sam’s mom. I couldn’t do this to her, take away her only child after she’d lost her husband to cancer ten years prior.
“It’s that boy, Todd. Isn’t it?”
“It’s okay, Sam. I’ll get ya leveled out.” He gently moved her hair from her eyes before he ushered her toward the house.
With a quick glance over his shoulder, he gave me a reassuring smile. I hoped he’d be able to bring Sam around to the sober way of life. He had to or I didn’t know what I’d do.
I got in the car and drove home, aware Dad would probably be pacing the living room since it was after dark. Loneliness hit hard as a gentle rain danced on the windshield. Though I didn’t want to go home, I had nowhere else to go, or anyone I could talk to about things.
Dad luckily only gave me a fatherly look when I walked in. I told him I was tired, overwhelmed, and needed to be alone. He gave me a sideways hug from the comfort of his La-Z-Boy, and went back to watching some war program on the history channel. I would have given anything to have him pry just a little, but went directly upstairs instead.
Tomorrow the bomb would drop. Tomorrow everyone would discover Sam was missing. Tomorrow the nightmare would begin again and the chasm between my two lives would grow even bigger.
All I could do was curl up in my bed with Nicholas’ journal wrapped in my arms and sob.
Chapter Eleven
“Well, look who finally decided to get out of bed,” Dad remarked, looking over the top of his newspaper.
I stumbled into the kitchen and went directly for the coffee pot.
“You sleep okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I mumbled and poured myself a cup with extra sugar and cream.
“How are you handling everything?”
I shrugged. A s good as can be expected.
“’Cause if you need to talk … ”
“I’m fine, Dad.” I gave him the “don’t try to console me” look. Yesterday, I’d hoped to sit and finish where we left off, but not now—not after everything that happened last night.
“I contacted Connie at ET. She agreed to talk with you.”
I huffed and cocked my head to the side. Though he flowed out an enormous dose of concern and I should have been grateful, he didn’t have my permission to talk to Connie or anyone for that matter. He feigned an apologetic smile as I clenched my jaw before I wordlessly breezed past him and headed upstairs.
At the same time I heard a knock at the door. A wave of anxiety from the stranger struck me hard and stopped me midstride.
“Jules, will you get that?”
I gripped the railing, dread inching up my skin. “I’m in my pajamas.”
Dad scuffed the chair against the floor when the knocking persisted. “Okay, okay.”
I should have darted up the stairs but I couldn’t make myself go. I had to know who was there. My heart almost stopped when my eyes met Sam’s mom’s.
“Please tell me Samantha is here.” She stood on her tiptoes to peer over Dad’s shoulder, her hair wild and eyes crazed. “Sam?” she called into our house.
“I don’t think she’s here, but please come in.” Dad moved to the side. “Jules?”
I gulped and wished I could tell her anything to give her some hope.
“She’s not here, Mrs. King.”
Mrs. King’s face blanched. “Did she call you? Do you know where or who she might be with?”
Dad squinted his eyes as my gaze ping-ponged between the two. I struggled to answer. “I haven’t heard from her.”
“Nancy, let’s figure this out in the living room. I’m sure she’s with a friend or boyfriend, and too embarrassed to call.” He took her arm but she stayed frozen, her eyes—laden with dark circles—fixed on me.
My breathing accelerated as her suspicion clamped hard into my psyche, squeezing me like a vice. Did she know something? I cleaned up the best I could, minus the destroyed carpet. Under her stare, everything inside screamed to confess. Surely we could trust Sam’s mom. I couldn’t do this to her, take away her only child after she’d lost her husband to cancer ten years prior.
“It’s that boy, Todd. Isn’t it?”
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