True Places(64)

“Dad . . .” Reid’s voice was quavering. He cleared his throat. “Dad, I wasn’t trying—”

“I’ll ask Brynn about it.”

“She’ll just deny it. She sent the photo.”

His father’s face hardened. “She did not send the photo, Reid. It’s ludicrous. But I will ask her if she knows Robert’s son, see what she says.”

Reid started to make the argument again, from the beginning, but his father held up his hand.

“Enough. And don’t even think of sharing this crazy story with your mother. She’s got enough on her mind.” He waited for Reid to promise.

Reid wasn’t intending to tell his mother, not after his father’s reaction, but he wasn’t about to give him that.

His father went on anyway. “I’m grabbing my bag and having a drink at the Grill, like we planned.” He jogged over to collect his tennis bag and began walking toward the clubhouse.

As Reid followed his father, his clenched fists gradually loosened, disappointment taking over from anger. He thought about what he had said about Brynn sending the photo, and it occurred to him for the first time that it wasn’t a selfie. Someone had taken it. One of Brynn’s friends? A boy? Maybe he didn’t know his sister at all.

Wait. The shot was taken at his grandparents’. Why would Brynn’s friends be there?

Who, then? Iris? The thought made him nauseous. Iris was pure. Or at least she had been until Brynn had taken her over. Reid wondered if he shouldn’t protect Iris, do a better job of being a big brother to her. It had never been a role Brynn had allowed him to play. She’d always been in charge of herself, and if she needed anyone, she went to their father. But Iris was different, and she had been comfortable with Reid in the beginning.

Reid watched his father drinking a beer with his friends. Looking out for Brynn hadn’t worked out so well. Why would looking out for Iris go any better? Let his parents deal with it. This wasn’t his fucking rodeo.

He dug in his pocket for his phone and texted Alex.

REID: Up for a party at UVA Saturday?

ALEX: You pledging?

REID: Cutting loose. Way loose.





CHAPTER 28

Suzanne hung up with her mother and stormed upstairs to find Brynn. Her daughter’s door was closed, and Suzanne took a moment to calm down before knocking.

“Who is it?”

The person who gave birth to you, who held you when you were sick, who could not imagine a more hopeful sight than your innocent face, and who now wonders how estrogen and oxytocin could make such a fool out of an intelligent woman. “It’s Mom.”

“Oh. Come in.”

Suzanne opened the door and stepped inside. Brynn was sprawled on her bed on her stomach with a textbook and a highlighter. She pulled out her earbuds.

“What’s up?”

“Your grandmother just informed me that you asked her to arrange for a limo to drive you and your friends around on Saturday night.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You didn’t think to run that by us?”

She swished her hair to one side and twisted it between her fingers. “I did mention it to you a while ago.”

“We talked about transportation for the prom, yes. And I said we’d be happy to drive.”

“Which is why I asked Grammy Tinsley. She thought the limo was a great idea.”

“It wasn’t her place to arrange it.”

Brynn tipped her head sweetly. “That’s between you and Grammy, isn’t it?”

“I’m still your mother.” Suzanne sighed inwardly. She didn’t want to fight with Brynn about prom. Suzanne had intended to finalize the arrangements with Brynn and had forgotten. Brynn was wrong to have gone behind her back, but Suzanne probably would’ve agreed to the limo if they had discussed it again. She crossed the room and perched on her daughter’s bed. Brynn sat up and tucked her legs under her.

“Look,” Suzanne said, “Your father and I just want you to be safe.”

Brynn stared at her, lids drooping, jaw slack in an archetypal pose of boredom.

Suzanne tried a different tack. “Okay, say the limo takes you and Sam and your other friends from here, after pictures, straight to prom. What then?”

“After prom, it takes us back here, so I can change.”

“Really?”

“Mom? The dress?”

Suzanne thought there were simpler ways to protect an expensive dress—such as putting it in a bag—but wasn’t going to argue Brynn out of stopping by the house. Suzanne and Whit would be able to see if everyone had managed to stay intact and sober for the first few hours. “Okay, so you change—all your friends change, I guess—then the limo takes you to Lisa’s for the party.”

“Maybe Lisa’s. We’re still checking.”

“Brynn, the prom is Saturday. What’s to check?”

“Maybe Kendall’s instead.”

“Let’s nail it down.” Brynn blinked slowly, as close to assent as Suzanne would get. “And you’re staying there all night.” It wasn’t a question.

Her daughter exhaled, exasperated. “You can call her parents, okay? You can even come over and do a full inspection. I’m sure they’d appreciate that.”