He folds his hands together on the black tabletop and says, “You are not driving all the way across the state and back in one day.”
“I’ll get a hotel room and come back on Tuesday.”
“No you will not.”
He’s treating this like I just want to hang out with some friends. Clearly, he doesn’t see the importance. “Dad, I have to. This is very important.”
He shakes his head. “The answer is no. End of discussion.”
“But—”
“No.”
Leah stands and quietly says, “Excuse me.”
“May—” I start to say.
“The answer is no, Paige.”
I stare at him dumfounded. I assumed my dad would be okay with this. Logan needs my help. Whenever someone needs help, my dad is always first in line to provide it. Why, all of a sudden, is helping a bad thing?
“Ple—” I try once more.
He cuts me off with a single look.
I slump in my chair and fold my arms across my chest as my blood boils in my veins. I cannot believe him. He won’t listen to reason right now. He won’t listen to me, period. Every time I try, he shuts me down.
I continue sulking and silently stewing in my chair the entire time Leah is gone. When she returns, he smiles at her and asks about her recently received nomination to the Naval Academy. They start talking, but she keeps sending worried glances my way.
Only minutes ago, everything was headed in the right direction. I was going to help Logan. Now, once again, I’m letting him down. What would he do if he were in this situation? That’s easy to answer. He’d ignore his dad. The problem is if my dad doesn’t give me permission to leave campus, I’ll be considered AWOL just like Logan was. And I’ll earn a suspension just like he did, too.
A suspension would totally derail my future. My dad would lose it and never let me go anywhere by myself again, especially almost two thousand miles away to Colorado.
Of course, how would I feel if I went there while Logan was stuck in prison? I imagine the burning in my stomach would return with a vengeance and last the entire time he was there. Years and years of guilt.
I bite my lip, not at all comfortable with what I’m considering.
But … do I really have a choice?
CHAPTER 29
LOGAN
“Thanks for the ride,” I say to Gordy as we pull up to the curb outside Lora’s parents’ pristine mansion. My hearing is in two days, and I feel like she and I need to talk.
“Sure thing, man. I’ll wait right here.”
I exit the car and slowly walk to the front door, suddenly second guessing myself. Do I really want to see her? What will we say to each other? After two unanswered rings of the bell, I let out a relieved sigh and turn around. It’s probably for the best.
I’m not even down the first step when the door opens.
Shit.
“Logan, is that you?” Lora’s mom says.
I turn around and plaster a smile on my face. “Hi, Mrs. Mitchell.”
“When did you get back in town?” she asks, her Botox-laden face emotionless. It used to freak me out. Her face always looks the same, whether she’s welcoming you to her home or disapproving of how the yard guy trimmed her azaleas. It’s like she’s made of plastic or something.
“A few days ago. Is Lora home?”
“You’re due in court on Monday.” It’s not a question. I get the impression she wants to frown at me, but her face is still blank. I think I’d be frustrated, not being able to control my own features.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“‘Ma’am’?” She’s probably wondering what happened to me. I sound like a Goody Two-shoes, just like Jernigan. It’s the stupid Wallingford influence.
“May I see Lora?” I ask. “I just want to say hi since it’s been a while.”
She rests her white-tipped nail against her lips for a few long moments. Finally, she says, “Lora’s in the den watching TV.” She holds open the door, which I take as my invitation.
“Thank you.”
Hopefully this won’t be too awkward.
I pass through their double-story foyer, take a left at the marble statue of some Roman God, then slowly open the mostly glass door to the den.
Lora’s on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table as she rapid-fire types on her phone.
“Hey,” I say when she doesn’t look up.
My voice causes her to jump. Then she just stares at me like a deer caught in headlights.
“Surprise,” I say with a stupid grin.
She doesn’t move.
I was kind of expecting her to act a little excited to see me. Maybe not jump off the couch and engulf me in a bear hug, but at least smile. Or ask how I am. Or not appear totally guilty for whatever she’s doing on her phone.
“So I was thinking I’d take you up on that offer of dinner,” I say, stepping into the room.
“Tonight?”
“Sure, if you want to.”
“I’ve … actually got plans.” Her eyes dart to her phone. I wonder if it’s the guy from the movie theater or someone else. Not that it matters. I was worried, or maybe hopeful, all those old feelings would return the moment I saw her, but they didn’t. I feel nothing for her. Not joy. Not anger. I’m absolutely indifferent.
“Oh, okay,” I reply with a shrug.
“But maybe we could grab lunch tomorrow?”
“Yeah, maybe.” I’m not sure why I even came over here now. It’s becoming clear I don’t really want to spend time with her. And I’m too much of a wuss to tell her I’m turning her in. This is pointless.
“Do you want to sit down?” She finally lowers her phone and scoots over on the couch a little so there’s more space for me. She fiddles with the bottom of her shirt, pulling off nonexistent pieces of lint. “I didn’t realize you were home,” she says.
I lower myself next to her. “I came back last weekend. For Thanksgiving … and the hearing.”
“Are you liking your new school better?” She says it like I’m at an ordinary school, not Wallingford. I’d love for her to have to spend a week there. With Paige as her mentor. She wouldn’t last half a day.
“Not particularly.”
“I’m sorry.” She lowers her hand to my knee, like maybe she’s feeling a bit of what we used to have. “I really am sorry,” she continues. “Thank you for what you’re doing.” She gives me her big doe eyes. I used to be a sucker for those. Now, not so much.
“Yeah, about that,” I say, sliding away from her. “I kind of got in trouble and might not get the plea bargain.”
“What?” she asks, her face going slack. “What’d you do?”
“I had to pick up a drunk friend.”
“Why’s that a problem?”
“No license. No permission to leave campus.”
“Oh, right.” She starts biting her thumbnail.
“So, um, if I don’t get the plea bargain,” I say, “I’m looking at jail time.”
Her hand falls to her lap. “You can’t go to jail!”