Split(108)

“Hey, Dad.” I toss the keys onto the kitchen counter and drop into the chair across from his.

“Shy, you okay?” He pushes back and slumps into his seat.

“No.”

“Mind telling me what’s going on between you and Lucas?”

I blink up at him and for the first time it doesn’t take all my reinforced walls and steely attitude to tell him exactly what’s on my heart. “I’m in love with him, Dad.”

“See that.” He picks up his glass and takes a mouthful down his throat. “Seems he feels the same, not that I blame him.”

My lip quivers and my chest throbs as his quiet compliment.

“You’re so much like her, ya know.”

I flinch and squelch the hope blooming in my chest. You’re nothing like your momma. His words ring through my ears and I shake my head. “Like who?”

He sighs and a soft chuckle falls from his lips. “You know your granddaddy wasn’t too happy about his daughter falling for a pale face. He made it damn near impossible for us to be together.”

I grin, remembering the stories my mom would tell about her and Dad having secret meeting places, how she spent time with a boy she grew up with on the reservation, paid him to act like her boyfriend so her dad would get off her back. “She told me.”

“The woman was stubborn as hell.” He rubs the back of his neck and drops his chin. “God, I miss her.”

My instinct is to say something to comfort him, words of strength that’ll hold him together, but I’m choked with sorrow. I miss her too.

“I know when you left for college I said you were nothing like her.” His eyes shine with a vulnerability I haven’t seen in him since the day we lost Momma. “I lied. You’re so much like her it scares me to death.”

“Dad . . .” My breath catches and a single tear slides down my cheek.

“I hated losing her. Then I lost you. Now you’re back, and”—he shakes his head—“I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me, Dad. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Can you promise me that boy is safe?” He tilts his head. “I’d bet he’s all right, but I won’t gamble with your safety.”

“I . . . yeah, I mean—”

“I don’t like that Trevor guy, but fact is Lucas tied him up.”

I open my mouth to defend Lucas but slam my lips shut without a single defense. “He deserved it. You can’t ambush a man at his home in the middle of the night, especially a man like Lucas.”

“I feel terrible about the life the boy was forced to live. Understand how that would mess a kid up. He’s always seemed like a decent guy. And now you’re in love with him.” He drains his glass and stands up. “Your mom was blind to my faults. I felt like the luckiest man in the world and took advantage of her not seein’ ’em. Don’t make the same mistake, baby. You see red flags, you run.” He dips and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I won’t lose you too.”

I watch my dad amble down the hallway like a man pulling the weight of a thousand lives behind him.

Red flags. You run.

Not this time. I’m done running.





THIRTY-NINE



SHYANN


“I’m sorry, Shyann, but visiting hours don’t start for another thirty minutes.” Diana, the receptionist at the hospital, gives me a sympathetic smile.

I have to see Sam. I have to wake her up, plead with her to push through so she can give me the information that’ll free Lucas.

My fingers clasp together on the counter in front of me and I try to remain calm. “I know, and I’d never want to get you in trouble, but do you really think anyone’s going to balk over thirty measly minutes?” I’ve been waiting to get in to see Sam since before the sun came up, and with every passing hour I could see Diana’s resolve dwindling. “Please, if anything happened and she didn’t wake up, I’d . . .” A lump forms in my throat at the very thought that Sam might not come away from all this okay. That I’d never get a chance to say how sorry I am for being a shitty friend.

“Sorry, Shy—”

“Please. I’m going crazy here.” Only she can free Lucas and I must get through to her and at least try to pull her out of this.

She sighs heavily and leans toward me. “I’m going to run to the bathroom.” A tiny lift of her eyebrows is all she gives before she turns her back and walks away.

With her out of sight, I scurry toward the double doors and pray like hell I don’t get caught. Once through, no one seems to care that I’m there except for a few questioning looks from nurses that I brush off by acting like I belong there, walking the halls of the hospital.

I follow the numbered doors until I reach Sam’s. Her door is cracked and I peek inside to see her lying in the dark alone and still unconscious. I tiptoe inside, close the door, and take the seat closest to her bedside.

I expect her parents will be here the second visiting hours open and I don’t want an audience for what I need to say.

Gently grasping her swollen fingers, I dip my forehead to our joined hands. “Sam, please wake up. I know I don’t deserve your friendship. Don’t deserve your help, not after the way I left things between us. I’m so sorry. I should’ve been a better friend to you.”