The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys #1)(21)

“Lynn, we’ve been through this,” Dad said. “They’re friends. That’s how they do things. Right, pumpkin?”

“Yes,” I said, not adding that the few times I’d had Miller come to the front door, Mom and Dad had either been in a rage or a cold front. Humiliating for me and awkward for him.

“And anyway,” I said, “he has the same concerns you do about me working with Mrs. Whitmore. Because he’s a good person. The best.”

Mom let it drop, but the thoughts behind her eyes told me talk of “that Miller” wasn’t over.

“When do you start?” Dad asked.

“This week. Tuesdays and Fridays.”

“That’s fast. Well, I’m proud of you,” Dad said. “You’re going to make an excellent doctor, and this program will be the perfect finish to your college applications.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“And on that note…” Mom smoothed her napkin on her lap. “Seeing as that process is going to begin soon, it might be a good idea to look into a few scholarship opportunities.”

“For God’s sake, Lynn…”

“What? She’s top of her class. A shoo-in for Valedictorian. Why shouldn’t she be rewarded for all her hard work?”

I glanced between them. “Do I need to apply for scholarships?”

“No,” Dad said firmly while Mom started to speak, then snapped her mouth shut.

My stomach felt like it had suddenly turned to stone. My parents offering to pay for my entire college tuition, even through med school, had been the greatest, most precious gift of my life. Not only for the money but because it meant that they believed in me.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Everything is fine,” Dad said, glaring at Mom. “There is no need for you to apply for any scholarship. We promised we’d cover it, and we will. Isn’t that right, Lynn?”

Mom met his gaze steadily. “If you say so, Vince.”

“I do say so. And I’m going to be late for work. Have a great first day, honey.” He brushed his finger over the tip of my nose and left without another word.

I turned to my mom, afraid to ask and afraid of the answer. “Mom…?”

She stirred her coffee. “Don’t ask me, ask your father.”

“He won’t tell me. You guys never tell me anything. You just shout at each other. In front of my friends now, too.”

Mom sipped from her mug.

My hands twisted under the table. “Mom, please. I want to be a surgeon. Even with the college credits I’ve earned already, that’s still ten years of school, minimum. If it’s too much, I get it. Things change. If there’s an issue with my tuition, you can tell me.”

Tell me you and Dad are going to be okay.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Mom said, rising from her chair. “You’ll be late for school.” Her fingers trailed over the envelope of my PCV assignment. “You’ve been quite friendly with River Whitmore, haven’t you? I hear you talking about him more and more. Even more so than that Miller, which is why I was surprised to see him in your room last night. I thought he was out of the picture.”

I blinked at the abrupt change in topic. “Miller will never be out of the picture. Because we’re best friends.”

“I thought Shiloh was your best friend.”

“She is. They both are.”

“And River? You’ve had a crush on him for ages and now you’re hanging out with his crew.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ve made an appointment for you to see Dr. Crandle next Thursday.”

“The gynecologist.”

“Yes. Since it’s become clear to me that I can’t keep track of which boys come to your room at night, better safe than sorry.”

“Good idea,” I said, my face burning. “I might lose track, myself.”

Mom sighed. “I’m just being realistic. You’re seventeen now, and I know how the world works.” She pursed her lips. “Should I have done it sooner?”

God, I wanted to sink into the floor. “Uh, no, Mom. I haven’t even been kissed. Going on birth control is overkill, don’t you think?”

“Oh, honey,” she said, regret swimming in her eyes. “You work so hard, and I know we haven’t been around as much as we should. Not like we used to.” She cupped my chin in her hand. “I’m just trying to do the mom-thing and take care of you. Okay?”

I mustered a smile. “Okay. Thanks.”

She smiled back with pained amusement. “You were supposed to say, ‘No need, Mother dear, I’m saving myself until marriage.’”

“Seeing as how I’ll never get married, that’s a little too long to wait.”

“I hope that’s not true, though God knows we haven’t set the best example.”

I swallowed hard. “You used to. You and Dad used to be…so happy.”

She stiffened. “Yes, well. Things have come up.”

“Mom…?”

She blinked and patted my hand. “I’ll make that appointment. Have a great first day.”





Shiloh and I didn’t have any classes together until History that afternoon. I met her on the expanse of grass in front of the shaded cafeteria tables at Santa Cruz Central High School at lunch. My friend wore a loose bohemian-style dress over her slender frame, and her dark hair was box braided in hundreds of tiny braids, the ends flowing loose and wavy over the light brown skin of her shoulders. Chunky bracelets, necklaces and rings—most of which she made herself—completed her look that I called Earth Goddess Chic.