Killman Creek (Stillhouse Lake #2)(84)

I’m glad I think of that, because I didn’t like to believe Mom lied just to hurt Dad. No, she was trying to help us, that’s all.

If it was an accident, it makes more sense than trying to imagine that my dad, the big, warm shadow who took me to my first baseball game and watched TV with me and sometimes read me stories at night . . . that my dad is a monster.

I can distantly hear the shower cut off. Lanny’s almost done in the bathroom. She’ll blow-dry her hair, and then she’ll come knock on my door to say good night. She always does.

“I have to go,” I tell him quickly. “Sorry.”

“Wait! Brady . . . Son, I just wanted to say thank you for talking to me. I know it isn’t easy. But it means a lot to me.” I can hear that it does. He sounds like he’s about to cry. “I never thought I’d get to hear your voice again.”

“Okay.” I feel weird now, and sick to my stomach. Is it better, knowing that my dad loved me, still does love me, when everybody expects me to hate him? “I’ve got to go.”

“One more thing,” he says. “Please.”

“What?” My thumb hovers over the button to end the call, but I don’t press it. I wait.

“Just call me Dad,” he says. “Just once. I’ve been waiting such a long time to hear it.”

I shouldn’t. It’s a line, and I shouldn’t step over it. I texted the word, sure. But I haven’t said it. It feels like admitting something to myself that’s too big to understand.

But I don’t have time to think about it. So I quickly say, “Goodbye, Dad,” and I shut it off. My heart’s hammering, and my hands are shaking, and I can’t believe I just talked to my dad.

Someone knocks on my door. It isn’t Lanny; I can hear the hair dryer just starting up. I turn the phone off and open the closet door to say, “Yeah?” I’m watching the little circle spin around. It takes forever to shut this thing off.

“Connor? Can I come in?”

It’s not Javier. It’s Kezia. When I don’t answer, she tries the doorknob, and I’m glad I locked it, because this phone isn’t turning off . . . and then it suddenly does, it’s dark and silent, and I put it in my pants pocket and go to open up. “Hi,” I tell Kezia. “Sorry.” I go back to the bed and sit down, cross-legged.

She doesn’t come in, just watches me. “I’ve been worried about you.”

Everybody’s worried about me. Except Dad, who thinks I’m okay.

When I don’t answer, Kezia goes on. “You know, it’s okay to be mad with your mom. But you have to know she still loves you. A lot. Okay?”

“Sure,” I say, then shrug. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Just waiting for the bathroom. Lanny takes forever in there.” I hope I sound okay. Normal, at least. On the inside I’m shaking, and I feel like I’m flying apart. I talked to him. I heard his voice. I called him Dad. I don’t know how I feel. Elated, because I got away with it. Terrified. Happy. Worried. All those at the same time.

I can get rid of the phone now, part of me says. I’ve talked to him. So that’s done. I should go smash it now and bury the pieces.

But I can’t. Because this piece of technology in my pocket, it’s like a magic button I can press and feel . . . kind of normal. How can I get rid of it now? But it’s a risk. If they find out, everybody will be mad at me.

I remember his voice shaking as he asked me to call him Dad, like it was the only thing he wanted in the world, and I think, I don’t care if they’re mad.

I need my father. And now, I really think he needs me.



I sleep well for the first time in weeks. I don’t even dream. It’s like hearing Dad’s voice silenced something inside me that was screaming all the time.

And I know that’s probably wrong.

When we get up the next morning, everything seems normal, except me. We have waffles and bacon. I convince them to let me try some coffee with lots of milk and sugar, and I can’t decide, once I have it, whether or not I like it, but I drink it all anyway. Lanny’s milk-only now with her coffee. Javier and Kez just drink it black.

“Why don’t you have anything in it?” I ask them, just to have something to talk about. Javier laughs and exchanges a glance with Kezia.

“Probably the same for both of us,” he says. “When I was in the marines, we were lucky to get coffee. Almost never got it with anything else. You only have so much room in a pack, and when you’re carrying everything you need on your back . . . you skip the luxuries.”

“I got used to black coffee at the station.” Kezia nods. “You grab it quick to go. Creamer’s always out, and mostly the sugar is, too. After a while, you just adjust your taste.”

That sounds grown up. Maybe someday I’ll be drinking it black, too.

After waffles, there’s washing up, and then I take my bath. When I come out, Javier is gone to the range for the day. Kezia’s staying with us. Good thing Norton is a low-crime area, I guess. She gets two calls in the next hour, but neither of them is important enough for her to change plans.

Lanny’s busy making some kind of braided bracelet. She’s been trying all day to pretend like everything’s fine, it’s all cool, and this is the latest thing. She doesn’t even look up. “Stop staring at me.”