hopes of getting the heck out of here while the blob is distracted.
And stop dead. “Dad?”
He wraps his arms around me. “I heard what happened. I was so worried.”
My hands hang limp at my sides as he squeezes me. I don’t know what to do, how to feel. He’s never so nice to me. What changed…
But as I think, and listen to the police try to corral the media, it clicks. We’re probably being filmed, and he’s probably trying to be seen as the loving, caring father.
I want to pull away from him, but who else do I have?
Not Cade.
Slowly, I lift my arms, and hug him back.
Chapter 18
He, along with two of the officers, lead me outside. Cade’s SUV is gone. In its place is Dad’s Subaru wagon.
I’m not surprised Cade’s gone. But I still hoped he wouldn’t be. That he’d waited. That he hadn’t left me again.
But it’s the same as before. Cade’s gone, and I’m left behind with Cynthia and my dad.
I rush to the passenger door and open it. But before I can get in, I see someone’s legs occupying the seat.
“Hi sweetie,” Cynthia says.
“Get in the back,” Dad says, before getting in the driver’s seat.
I’m too shocked to do anything else but obey.
But as soon as I hear the door slam shut, I can’t help but think I’ve made a huge mistake.
I’m going right back where I don’t want to be. Where I dread being—a fact I’ve never fully understood until just now.
Because before, I had no way out. I was stuck, and there was nothing I could do about it. But now, now I have Cade.
Or, I did.
I have to go back. I grab the handle, but as I’m about to pull, the blob pours out of the airport, looks around, then rushes our car, ignoring the two officers standing in their way. If only we had tinted windows.
“Get us out of here, Stephen!” Cynthia shouts at my dad.
He does, and any hope of jumping out is blown away as we speed out of the loading zone and onto the street. If only I was an action star instead of a teenage girl—I could jump out, roll along the asphalt and magically not get struck by oncoming or overtaking vehicles, get up running, and run straight into Cade’s arms, who would be waiting for me as the blob’s shouts and questions were drowned out by the slowly rising triumphant soundtrack that would crescendo as I leapt into my lover’s arms, our lips meeting as the camera zoomed in tight on our faces, to the cheers and weeping of everyone in the theater.
But that’s fantasy. Cade isn’t waiting for me. He left me. Again. Just like I knew he would.
And as much as I hate my dad and Cynthia, at least they’re here for me. At least they’ve never left.
Still, I can’t bring myself to say thanks.
No one talks on the ride home, and the drive just gets more and more awkward, like somehow the moment to speak has passed. Like, if one of us had said something within, say, the first minute of me getting in, we could have talked. But now, that would just be weird.
And so we remain silent.
It’s only as we approach our house that it becomes implicitly acceptable to speak.
I lean forward and dig through the center console.
“What are you doing?” Cynthia asks.
“Nothing.”
I find what I’m looking for, and stick a piece in my mouth to mask the vile taste.
“I could have gotten it for you.”
“It’s fine.”
“Well, we’re home,” she says. She turns back in her seat to look at me. “How are you, dear?” If her sincerity was any faker it would be accompanied by sheet-metal thunder.
I shrug. “I’m fine.”
She shakes her head. “Those reporters. No respect.”
“How’d you know about them?”
Her eyebrows raise slightly and her mouth opens in an O. “Well, I— I saw them coming out.” She shakes her head again. “Waving those mics. Like sharks. Vultures, really.”
“No, I mean how’d you know to be at the airport?”
Cynthia touches my knee. “We’re here for you sweetie, whenever you need us.”
That’s a stretch. But I hold my
And stop dead. “Dad?”
He wraps his arms around me. “I heard what happened. I was so worried.”
My hands hang limp at my sides as he squeezes me. I don’t know what to do, how to feel. He’s never so nice to me. What changed…
But as I think, and listen to the police try to corral the media, it clicks. We’re probably being filmed, and he’s probably trying to be seen as the loving, caring father.
I want to pull away from him, but who else do I have?
Not Cade.
Slowly, I lift my arms, and hug him back.
Chapter 18
He, along with two of the officers, lead me outside. Cade’s SUV is gone. In its place is Dad’s Subaru wagon.
I’m not surprised Cade’s gone. But I still hoped he wouldn’t be. That he’d waited. That he hadn’t left me again.
But it’s the same as before. Cade’s gone, and I’m left behind with Cynthia and my dad.
I rush to the passenger door and open it. But before I can get in, I see someone’s legs occupying the seat.
“Hi sweetie,” Cynthia says.
“Get in the back,” Dad says, before getting in the driver’s seat.
I’m too shocked to do anything else but obey.
But as soon as I hear the door slam shut, I can’t help but think I’ve made a huge mistake.
I’m going right back where I don’t want to be. Where I dread being—a fact I’ve never fully understood until just now.
Because before, I had no way out. I was stuck, and there was nothing I could do about it. But now, now I have Cade.
Or, I did.
I have to go back. I grab the handle, but as I’m about to pull, the blob pours out of the airport, looks around, then rushes our car, ignoring the two officers standing in their way. If only we had tinted windows.
“Get us out of here, Stephen!” Cynthia shouts at my dad.
He does, and any hope of jumping out is blown away as we speed out of the loading zone and onto the street. If only I was an action star instead of a teenage girl—I could jump out, roll along the asphalt and magically not get struck by oncoming or overtaking vehicles, get up running, and run straight into Cade’s arms, who would be waiting for me as the blob’s shouts and questions were drowned out by the slowly rising triumphant soundtrack that would crescendo as I leapt into my lover’s arms, our lips meeting as the camera zoomed in tight on our faces, to the cheers and weeping of everyone in the theater.
But that’s fantasy. Cade isn’t waiting for me. He left me. Again. Just like I knew he would.
And as much as I hate my dad and Cynthia, at least they’re here for me. At least they’ve never left.
Still, I can’t bring myself to say thanks.
No one talks on the ride home, and the drive just gets more and more awkward, like somehow the moment to speak has passed. Like, if one of us had said something within, say, the first minute of me getting in, we could have talked. But now, that would just be weird.
And so we remain silent.
It’s only as we approach our house that it becomes implicitly acceptable to speak.
I lean forward and dig through the center console.
“What are you doing?” Cynthia asks.
“Nothing.”
I find what I’m looking for, and stick a piece in my mouth to mask the vile taste.
“I could have gotten it for you.”
“It’s fine.”
“Well, we’re home,” she says. She turns back in her seat to look at me. “How are you, dear?” If her sincerity was any faker it would be accompanied by sheet-metal thunder.
I shrug. “I’m fine.”
She shakes her head. “Those reporters. No respect.”
“How’d you know about them?”
Her eyebrows raise slightly and her mouth opens in an O. “Well, I— I saw them coming out.” She shakes her head again. “Waving those mics. Like sharks. Vultures, really.”
“No, I mean how’d you know to be at the airport?”
Cynthia touches my knee. “We’re here for you sweetie, whenever you need us.”
That’s a stretch. But I hold my
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