There’s definitely evidence in here that we were doing, um, certain things. I’d rather Tess didn’t come back in. In an effort to prove that nothing’s wrong, I open the door wide and step out, scooting past her to head for the bathroom.
“Would you like to watch the movie with us?” Tess asks me softly, and I pause. I’m not looking at her, facing toward the back door that leads to a cement patio. The arcade machines are on my left, the bathroom door on my right.
I glance back with yet another forced smile. I’m getting good at those, aren’t I?
“Actually, I think I’m going to study a bit. Finals are coming up quick.”
“Okay …” Tess hazards, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair. I turn away, hoping I can make it to the bathroom before she tries to engage in anymore conversation. My mind could not be further away from here right now. Parrish. All I can think about right now is him. “Dakota, I’m sorry.”
That gives me pause.
First off, she used my actual name. Second, she’s apologizing?
I turn around, a spark of hope flaring in my chest.
“I’ve been giving you the cold shoulder, and that isn’t fair.” We stare at each other down the length of the hallway. I’m hyperaware that Parrish is listening in, but somehow that makes this easier, like I have an ally now or something. “You’re my daughter, and I want you to be a part of this family.”
My smile gets a little less forced feeling.
“I’m sorry I went behind your back, Tess. But I really do love the Banks; I miss them. I miss Maxine, and she’s so close—”
Uh-oh.
If I were a writer like Tess, I might say something like: The expression on her face was nothing short of a landslide. Where once stood a mighty forest, there was only mud. It was as if the whole world came tumbling down in an instant, toppling trees, smothering homes, bathing the world in quiet pain.
I’ve infuriated her. Again.
“Yes, well, I accept your apology.” Tess raises her chin and levels a look on me that could kill. “But I’m not budging on this. If I find out you’ve contacted them, or if you’ve seen that girl, I will ship you off to military school. Do you understand me?”
I just stare back at her, eyes wide, mouth gaping. All those happy, sparkly, bubbly feelings that Parrish churned up inside of me disappear, and I’m left free-floating in the middle of an emotional void.
“You’d … send me to military school for talking to my family?”
“This is your family,” Tess snaps back at me, and then she closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she opens her eyes to look at me again, I have to take a step back. The force of her stare is like a blade to the heart. “When you turn eighteen, I can’t stop you from doing what you want. Until then, you are my daughter. My daughter. Not Saffron’s. Not Carmen’s. Mine. You, Parrish, Kimber, Ben, Amelia, Henry … you’re my entire life.”
“Possession isn’t love—” I start, but the way she’s looking at me tells me that I better stop now before it’s too late.
“Let’s let the subject lie, shall we?” she asks, and this time, it’s her that forces a smile. “I really am sorry about ignoring you all weekend. Maybe tomorrow you can ride with me in the front of the SUV and Paul can sit in the back?” She cocks a brow like this is supposed to be funny, and then turns on her heel to leave.
For several minutes, I just stand there and stare after her.
Eventually, Parrish comes to me. He’s fixed his pants and slipped his shirt back on (the hoodie is um, dirty), and he smells so good, feels so warm when he wraps me up in his arms and pulls me close. I can hear his heart thundering, digging my fingers into the fabric of his shirt and closing my eyes. I won’t cry today. I won’t.
This time, when I pull back, it isn’t me who has tears.
It’s Parrish.
“Are you okay?” I ask because he’s gritting his teeth even as his eyes get watery, flooded with emotion that he tries so damn hard not to show. His King Sloth act is just that: an act. He pretends not to care because he cares too much.
“I don’t know what to do,” he whispers, looking down at me with such pain, like his very soul is being ripped in half. “I just don’t know. Tess is … she’s my mom, Dakota. She’s my mom, and you’re her daughter, and I … I can’t do this.” Parrish tears away from me, heading down the hallway as I chase after.
He tries to close his door, but I shoulder my way in anyway, watching as he presses his palm to the wall beside the window. His head hangs down, and he’s panting like he’s run a marathon.
