If You Only Knew, page 3
“How you holding up?” Paige walked down from the back room where the animals were kept. She had doodie duty.
Paige gave me a look. “You were thinking doodie duty, weren’t you?” Her flat expression only made the laughter bubbling in my chest pop out of my mouth. Paige rolled her eyes. “You are such a child sometimes,” she huffed.
I held the clipboard up against my mouth, hiding my wide smile. “Oh, please, don’t act like you weren’t the one who came up with it.”
Placing an elbow on the counter, I shifted my weight to my left leg because my right ankle was still a little sore from the other night. Paige walked back to the sink and washed her hands, and I went to the computer to check our patient list for tomorrow. I’d already called in reminders to everyone, but Paige had to send out texts to those who had signed up to receive them.
After I got done with the checklist, I went back to staring at the front door and rolling a pen back and forth on the counter. I couldn’t wait to get home and shower and wash the smell of wet dog off my skin. Not that I was complaining—I loved working at the vet office. It gave me the opportunity to interact with animals, my main passion after biking, and to learn more about being a veterinarian. Sheila Ford was an excellent mentor. Her love for her job got me excited about my own future.
Grabbing my phone out of my pants pocket, I checked my messages for the umpteenth time.
No text from Dad. I had asked him if I could bring anything home to eat for lunch and he hadn’t responded. I fidgeted with the screen before typing out another message.
Dad???? FOOD???
It was very unlike him to not respond when the possibility of takeout was an option.
A soft meow caught my attention, and I glanced down the hall to the row of patient rooms in time to catch Mr. Morrison walking out with his fat gray cat, Barry. Dr. Ford trailed out behind him, her black dreads up in a ponytail.
“Make sure to give him the worm medication, and he will be just fine.”
“Thank you, Doc.” Mr. Morrison wobbled with Barry under his arm and lifted the cat up to his face. “You hear that, buddy? You’re going to be fine.”
I stifled a smile. Mr. Morrison came in often with Barry. He was a bit of a hypochondriac when it came to his cat. After Mr. Morrison checked out and paid for Barry’s medicine, I officially clocked out.
“Tessa, you know you can take as much time off as you need if things at home need more attention.” Dr. Ford picked up a chart, a mug full of sludge coffee in the other hand. She took a sip and the mug came away with a red lip stain.
“Thanks, Sheila. I’ll let you know.”
I grabbed my bag from under the counter and headed out the door, squinting against the bright sunlight. I walked to the car, head bent as I unzipped my bag to find my keys, when someone collided against my shoulder, jostling my movements.
“Whoa, Hopper. Watch where you’re going much?”
I froze and my heart took stuttered beats. Sweat broke along the back of my neck. “Jared.” I pursed my lips and met the familiar blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”
The sun glinted off Jared’s streaked-blond hair. He wore his usual preppy style button-up and bro-shorts, as Paige referred to them.
“Looking for you, of course.” His cocky smile made my stomach writhe, and not in a sexy way.
I grabbed my keys out of my bag and walked around him. “I told you to stop doing that.” He quickly blocked my path to the car.
I threw my head back and groaned. “Would you please stop? This”—I pointed to him and then back to myself—“isn’t going to happen. Not again.”
Jared held up his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m sorry. Please, hear me out, Tessa. I’m not that guy anymore.”
I gave him my best skeptical stare. “Move.”
“Tess, please.” He palmed his hands in a prayer position. No one was going to answer that prayer, least of all me. “You always said people deserve a second chance.”
A shot of anger hit my veins, but I resisted getting drunk on it. “Second chances are for people who own up to their mistakes.” I kept my voice level.
Jared’s face turned ten shades redder, and I knew I had struck a nerve. But he deserved it after using my own words against me to justify his actions.
“You know who my family is.” He stepped closer. “I panicked. I’m sorry.”
I placed my palm on his chest and pushed him away. I hated when he invaded my space like that. It was his go-to intimidation tactic. “You left me in the car, Jared! I woke up alone. Do you have any idea how scary that was? No, you don’t, because you’ve never thought about anyone but yourself.”
I stomped past him and yanked open the car door. “It’s over, Jared,” I tossed over my shoulder. “It was over the minute you decided to abandon me after you screwed up.”
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I slammed the door shut and turned on the ignition, driving out of the strip mall, tires squealing in protest.
* * *
By the time I got home, I’d forgotten all about lunch, still reeling from the run-in with my ex.
It turned out I didn’t have anything to worry about. Uncle Mike and his husband, my uncle Steven, had brought over some pho from our favorite place, and there was enough left over for me as well. My appetite had taken a nosedive after seeing Jared, but I forced myself to eat and eventually the aromatic, spicy broth worked its magic, and I felt stable enough to help Dad.
Jiminy whined by the back door when I finished changing, and I pulled it open to let him out before running down the steps to where Dad stood in front of the open garage. Sweat dripped down his face. He’d gone on a run to calm himself down, but it appeared to have done little in that department. Instead, he seemed more agitated than before, pacing back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck, muttering to himself about some case he needed to get to and how he didn’t have time for this BS.
I grabbed a trash bag and started working, hoping it would give him the push he needed to focus on the task at hand. The anxiety built higher along my nerves. It made it difficult to force past my own fears. The idea of Dad having another heart attack put my life into a crystalline resolution, highlighting all my mistakes, the ugly truths, and the guilt that floated right below the surface of my skin.
I chewed on my lip. The box fan Dad had set up inside the garage leveled out the temperature wavering inside of me. Small ripples of dread shuddered on my skin. I hadn’t been inside the garage since the other night. I glanced at Dad quickly; the bags under his eyes were dark and his shoulders hunched over. Worry crested in my chest. I hated how much this weighed on him. I pictured him with the tubes that went through him last year at the hospital after he had his heart attack and fought back the tears clinging to the surface of my eyes.
Grabbing a broken trophy, I stuffed it into a garbage bag, ignoring the pain tracing circles around my chest whenever my eyes passed over Dad’s Porsche.
“You don’t have to do that, Tess,” Dad said, his voice strained. His eyes didn’t move away from the car.
I slipped the plastic bag in between my fingers, the elastic stretching against my skin, hoping the touch would help me forget that some idiots had dared to break into our place.
“It’s okay, Dad. I don’t mind.”
He rubbed his head, breathing in and out of his nose, and finally pivoted to me. “You shouldn’t be doing that. You act like you’re not scared by what happened, kiddo, but I know it bothers you.”
I spent last night jerking awake at phantom noises and then pacing the house with my baseball bat for any returning thugs. Not exactly sure what I would have done if the offenders had returned. I liked to think I picked up a thing or two watching way too many kung fu movies with Paige and her boyfriend, Alex, but I most likely would have ended up flailing around like a jellyfish.
“You don’t have to be brave for my sake,” Dad said.
“Says the man who sleeps with a gun under his pillow.” A small corner of his lip twitched. I almost got him to smile. Since coming home, he’d mostly frowned and flared his nostrils. Dad was supposed to go back to work today, but he had let the office know he was taking one more day.
The back of Dad’s shirt was drenched in sweat so I grabbed the bottle of water sitting on the workbench, handing it to him.
“Thanks,” he mumbled before getting back to work.
I frowned at his inability to take a break and simply rest for more than a few seconds. Jiminy whined by my side, waiting for a pat. I bent down and hugged his black coat. The phone in my pocket buzzed.
Wanna go for a ride later? Alex is getting antsy being cooped up at work all the time.
I read over the text from Paige. I held back a laugh. Like they needed to even ask—I was always down for a ride.
“That Paige?” Dad asked, noticing the smile on my face. He took the garbage bag out of my hand. I nodded. “You should go inside and give her a call.”
I tilted my head to the side and crossed my arms. “I can work, Dad. You can’t get rid of me.”
He shook his head. “Do whatever you want, sweetie. You always have,” he said with a laugh.
Taking the bag back, I said, “Maybe you shouldn’t have raised me to be so independent, then.”
The words left a hole that wanted to expand into my chest. He was right. I did do what I wanted. All the time. At the cost of the ones I loved.
I closed my eyes and tried to fight the image floating in my head from the night of the crash. The sound of glass breaking, the unnatural way the car had turned, the look on Paige’s face when she showed up—part fear, part disappointment.
Secrets brimmed and I was afraid they were going to start leaking out of me. Pain and rage radiated from my pores.
I gathered the rage and cradled in against my chest to help me get through the other feeling sitting right under it. Because anger I could do. Anger I could work with. It started when Mom left and connected all the way to the night of the accident. Always there, right at the top of the pyramid of emotions, the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. It was everything else, below the surface, I had a hard time with.
Dad and I worked in silence even though all I wanted was to come clean about the accident. But then I’d have to throw Paige under the bus, too. My mind kept going back to my guilt even though I tried to fight it with my anger, eating and digging deeper and deeper into my muscles. By the end of it, I would simply be bones and organs with the guilt keeping me standing.
It had to end at some point. Didn’t it? I had to move on.
When I was about halfway through cleaning the garage, the sound of tires skidding against pavement caught my ears. I looked down the driveway in time to catch a kid in a familiar dark sweatshirt come walking up to us.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Also, a sweatshirt. In June. The guy was asking for a heatstroke.
He approached where I stood. Dad was busy in the back of the garage and had yet to notice him. His steps were cautious and hesitant, hands in pockets, no swagger in his walk. He stopped his approach and our eyes connected. I held in a breath and forced myself to blink, hoping I imagined the whole scenario. But there he stood, and my heart skipped in an agitated beat. I hadn’t seen his face that night, but I recognized him anyway. From his walk, the length of his body, the curve of his shoulders.
He cleared his throat. “Mr. Hopper,” he said, trying to catch Dad’s attention. Jiminy barked a couple of times.
Dad had his arm raised, placing a bucket back on a high shelf. He turned his head and froze when he saw the guy standing in the sunlight while we remained in the shadowed garage.
My heart pounded, the feeling of unease settling between my ribs.
“Corey? What are you doing here?”
My whole body froze. “Wait. Dad, you know this guy?” I looked back and forth between the two of them.
Dad wiped his brow. “Yeah. Corey’s the kid I told you about. The one I prosecuted last summer?” Dad’s brows wrinkled. “Are you here to take me up on that offer?”
Last summer. Right. Last year Dad sent an eighteen-year-old kid to jail for drug possession. Nothing new—in fact the case was pretty cut-and-dried. Except Dad didn’t think the kid was guilty. He thought this guy, Corey, took the fall for someone else and tried to cut him a deal. Corey refused to budge. Claimed he was guilty. Dad, the human lie detector as I liked to call him, didn’t believe him. They were at an impasse.
I remembered how frustrated Dad was, how it ate away at him. And then the heart attack happened and I forgot about the case; it got buried beneath the memories of fear and pain. Apparently, Dad hadn’t forgotten.
Corey pocketed his hands. “No, sir. I’m here to turn myself in.”
Dad stared, the silence cutting the space between them. “What do you mean?”
“It was me. I was the one who vandalized your home.”
I took a moment to get a good look at Corey, anger filtering my vision. “What are you doing?” I asked. Why was he doing this? He could have easily gotten away with what he had done the other night. I never saw his face; there were no other leads.
Dad shook his head. “You did this?” He swept an arm across the open garage.
Corey nodded.
Dad’s hands were in fists by his side. I could sense the rage building inside of him. He flared his nostrils. “Why?” he said through clenched teeth, stepping toward Corey.
My heart started to kick harder, and I dropped my arms to my sides, preparing myself for his next move.
Corey shrugged. “Because I was angry. Because I felt like it.” There was no resolve behind his words.
Dad flew across the space between them and grabbed Corey by the collar, startling both of us. “Do you have any idea the kind of danger you put my daughter in?”
“Dad!” I tried to deter him from the direction he headed. Which was straight to Pissed-Off Town, one exit away from I’m-Going-to-Kill-You Ville.
“Tell me who else was involved.”
Corey’s face flushed red; his eyes contained a panic I’d seen a few times in my life. All from boys who’d come over to pick me up for a date. Fear. He looked so scared and young. He was simply a boy. A boy dumb enough to return to the scene of the crime.
I shook my head and tried to get rid of those thoughts. Corey should be scared after what he did. “Dad.” I lifted my hand and placed it on his shoulder. “Calm down.”
Beneath my fingers, the tension in Dad’s body flexed in his muscles. “No, he needs to answer the question first.” Everything he’d kept in the last forty-eight hours slowly came undone, all the frustration and anger and hurt.
“Dad, please,” I pleaded. But he wasn’t listening. “You have to. He’s never going to talk when you’re attempting to kill him. You’re going to give yourself another heart attack.” The panic in my voice shook through the grasp I had on it as I whispered in a harsh tone.
Dad turned to me, his face softening. His body relaxed, and I removed my hand from his shoulder.
“Is this how you pay me back for what I did for you?” Dad’s body sagged in defeat. “Destroy my home, my sense of security, put my daughter at risk? You better tell me about the others before I take you down.”
And there it was. Dad and his threats were as familiar as the freckles on my left forearm. The guy straightened, and his eyes roamed my face in a flash, then went back to Dad’s. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at home?
Whatever the reason, I knew one thing—it probably wasn’t going to end well for either of us.
COREY
My throat squeezed tight, and I breathed through my nose. Hopper removed his hands from the collar of my sweatshirt, and I swallowed the pain before taking a full breath. My chest heaved heavy while Hopper and I eyed each other. I rubbed the back of my neck.
The girl, Tessa, kept staring at me. Her lips set in a straight, grim line.
“They cut your tongue out in jail?” Hopper’s nostrils flared.
I shifted my gaze back to Hopper and fought the urge to turn around and run back home. I could go back and pretend like nothing happened. Continue following X’s orders, continue being leashed to Vance, continue to try to calm him when he came up with some crazy scheme and then pay for it when I did. But I didn’t want to spend what time I had being someone else’s pawn anymore. I wanted to make one decision for myself. Even if it cost me my freedom, at least I had a say in it.
“It got out of hand, and that’s my fault, sir. I came here because I want—no, I need—to make things right.”
Hopper crossed his arms and stared me down. It reminded me of the first time we met at court. The intense way he held himself, how he refused to drop his gaze. My quiet affirmation to the crime. I forced myself to pull my shoulders back and stand up straight. Hopper continued to size me up while I tried not to sweat bullets.
“Is this the guy you saw the other night, Tess?”
Tessa wrung her hands.
“Tessa?” Hopper urged.
I couldn’t rip my gaze away from hers. My body fought the edgy adrenaline pushing sweat onto my skin.
“I’m sorry.” What was it about the girl that made me constantly apologize?
“Yeah,” she answered, clenching her jaw. “You’ve already said that. It’s him.”
“I’m sorry for how far it went. I’ll pay you back for the damage, go to jail for it. It’s fine. I deserve it.”
Hopper let out a laugh. “Pay me back? You have any clue how much money it’s going to cost to fix that car? Thousands of dollars. You got that kind of money?”
No, I didn’t. I had some scraped together to keep our family afloat before I went to jail. Now I had next to nothing. The thought didn’t bring that resounding sense of calm I needed; instead, it made my sweat stick to my clothes.
“I didn’t think so.” Hopper took a step forward. “Are you still involved with the same people as before?”
A peace offering. That was what he was giving me. If only I could partake. “It doesn’t matter. It was my idea to begin with. The other guys were following my orders. Call the cops. Put me away. I can handle that, but I’m not ratting anyone out for my mistakes.”
