The Row(52)

“Yes. When.” He gives me a firm nod like there is absolutely no room for arguing this point. Then he changes back to the original subject. “For now, though, information first, dessert later.”

“I don’t know. Everything he said … it’s a lot to digest in a short time.” I deliberately don’t look at Jordan. In all honesty, I don’t have a clue how to feel. I haven’t had time to really think it through yet.

To his credit, Jordan doesn’t look like he buys that as an actual answer for a second, but he does hand over my promised dessert and doesn’t pressure me further. When his eyes meet mine again, there is more concern than playfulness there. “Fine, just answer this then. Are you okay?”

“I think so. We’re talking about something that happened when I was six—and then everyone has lied to me about it ever since—but it still makes me see everything differently.” A fresh wash of disappointment comes over me, and I take a bite of my ice cream, which tastes so amazing it actually does make me feel a little better. Cloud 10 may be my favorite thing about Texas. Still, I don’t feel ready to look at Jordan right now, so I keep my eyes on the sidewalk between my violet sneakers.

“I can’t imagine that it wouldn’t,” he says simply, taking a bite of his own ice cream but keeping his eyes on me.

I sigh and say the thought that bubbles in the back of my mind constantly. “We’re down to seventeen days now, Jordan.”

“I know.” He responds quietly before surprising me by slipping one arm around my shoulders and squeezing me lightly against his side. It only lasts for a minute, but somehow just having him here helps me find a piece of hope to cling to.

I clasp the cup of ice cream tight in my hands, my fingers cold even in the warm evening air. “Thank you for coming.”

“I just want to be sure that you really want the answers you’re looking for. No one would blame you for preferring not to know, considering the time you have left with your father.” He turns his gaze from the office buildings around us down to me. “I already told you, Riley. I am all in with you on this. No matter what.”

“Okay then. I don’t just want the answers. I need them. There’s no turning back now.” I swallow my nerves along with another spoonful of ice cream. “So I guess we’re in this together.”

The sun sinks below the faraway horizon and the streetlamps come to life, casting us in an eerie glow. I can’t tell if it’s because of the creepy lighting or because of the task we’re facing, but Jordan’s smile has taken on a grim aspect when I meet his eyes again.

Even in this unsettling atmosphere, his response reassures me the way it seems only Jordan can. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

*

I spend much of Tuesday alone. Looking through my notes and Daddy’s old letters, I keep trying to wrap my head around the idea that he could possibly still be innocent of the murders … but guilty of betraying our family all the same. Cheating may not carry a prison sentence with it, but it’s still something that’s difficult to forgive. It’s a decision he made that could’ve broken our family. I don’t know how he could feel like the best answer was to convince everyone I trusted to lie to me about it. And I’m starting to feel like I don’t know him at all.

Some of the things Mama said during our fight suddenly make more sense, but I’m still furious at her for taking part in Daddy’s lies. We’ll have to have a long talk the next time I see her. I’ll still be going to visit Daddy on Friday, of course, even if I have to keep it from Mama, but we’re both dealing with a lot right now, and I need to handle all of this chaos better if we are going to have even the slightest chance to heal our family again.

I don’t see Mama all day, and although she responds to my texts, my calls go straight to voice mail.

I had clung tight to Jordan the entire way home Monday night. The motorcycle is definitely growing on me. And as much as I’d like to deny it, anything that requires me to get that close to Jordan without any need for excuse or explanation seems like something I could get on board with.

When he dropped me off at my car, Jordan opened my door, but before I could climb in, he pulled me against him for an abrupt, tight hug. He kissed my forehead and whispered, “Everything’s going to work out, Riley. I promise.”

Then he’d climbed onto his black bike and disappeared into the night.

I don’t know how he feels confident enough to make a promise like that, but it helps me even if we know it might be a lie.

We made plans to see each other on Thursday, but I feel pathetic that I miss him already by Wednesday morning. We’ve texted a little, but he’s taking Matthew to visit their abuela today, so I know I won’t hear from him again until tomorrow.

I try not to think more about it as I make myself a bowl of fresh fruit. When my phone rings and the caller ID shows Mr. Masters’s number, I pick up immediately.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Miss Riley.” His slow drawl begins, as always, with the pleasantries. “How are you doing on this beautiful day?”

“I’m okay.” My nerves make me blurt out exactly what is on my mind. “Do you have any updates on the case?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” His voice becomes a bit harsher and I’m instantly on edge. “But there is something I need to speak with you about.”