The Truth About Jack (Entangled Crush) by Jody Gehrman Page A

Attila seems entirely convinced, but they let my specious logic slide. They’re right to doubt me, of course. The entire plan’s been shaky from the start.
    Still, I can’t stop grinning as Attila goes to the bar and fixes us one more round of drinks.
    …
    Dakota
    Tuesday night, Dad takes me out to sushi. We go to Momoko’s in Petaluma, my favorite, where we wolf down spider, dragon, and California rolls with gusto. We both know he’s doing this as a peace offering, a chance to talk about our fight, but it’s not until the green tea ice cream arrives that he finally broaches the topic.
    “You know I’m proud of you, whatever you do,” he says, his face tense.
    “I know, Dad.”
    He looks at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t assume that just because your mom did things a certain way, you will too. You’re not her, and it’s not fair to—”
    “I’m not putting off college forever,” I interrupt. “I’m just considering my options.”
    We eat our ice cream slowly, a thousand unspoken impulses and memories swimming under the surface of our conversation like a school of fish beneath the opaque surface of the sea. It’s not easy for us to talk about Mom, maybe because he was every bit as blindsided and hurt by her affair and subsequent transformation as I was. In a way, not being able to talk about that means not being able to talk about lots of other stuff, skirting heavy topics in general. It’s like opening up about anything means balancing on the rim of a steep, slippery pit, and we both know what lies at the bottom of it: Mom.
    “I’m sorry about River and Cody,” he says carefully. “That’s got to hurt.”
    I nod, not trusting myself to answer.
    “Why didn’t you tell me before?” He’s trying to sound detached, but it’s pretty obvious he’s hurt.
    “It was too raw.” I can feel a lump forming in my throat. “I couldn’t really talk about it.”
    I don’t add that I didn’t want him worrying about me more than he already does. Knowing him, he’d want to help me “process” the whole thing, which sounds torturous. He might even book me an appointment with his therapist friend, a guy named Jared with a long white beard who smells like sandalwood mixed with sweat and wears socks with his Birkenstocks. That’s all I need—to have a stinky wizard gazing at me earnestly, encouraging me to emote.
    “What do you think of Emily?” Dad asks, changing the subject. He can probably tell I’m less than eager to hash out the River/Cody debacle. Unfortunately, he’s chosen to leap from one uncomfortable topic to another.
    “She seems nice.” I shrug. “I don’t really know her.”
    The ghost of a smile flits across his face, like he’s remembering some tender moment they shared. He looks boyish suddenly, smitten. Not for the first time, I find myself thinking, I hope you know what you’re doing.
    He uses his spoon to scoop up the last of his ice cream, but pauses with it halfway to his mouth. “I’d like to see more of her. You feel okay about that?”
    “How well do you know her?”
    He looks surprised at something in my tone. Even I can tell that came out sounding wary, maybe even hostile. I try again.
    “I don’t mean to be negative. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” I leave off the last part: again.
    He flashes a warm, paternal smile and ruffles my hair. “Don’t worry about that, Ducky. I’ve got it under control.”
    Between my own disastrous breakup and the hell I watched him go through with Mom, I’m not so sure anyone in love has it “under control.” Maybe that’s why they call it falling—because you can’t stop yourself. I don’t know for sure if Dad’s falling for Emily, but it sure looks like it. I keep all this to myself, though. Going on about my tarnished view of relationships would earn me an appointment with the smelly wizard for sure. If there’s one idea that’s sacred at Luna Cove, it’s “Love Matters.” The whole idea behind communal