One Small Thing(71)

He kissed me back. Christmas came early.

I grin and my smile doesn’t leave my face even when I arrive home to two glum-faced parents. I give them both a wave. Dad probably had a bad day at the hardware store and Mom’s always complaining about how the agents are terrible with their expense reports. I float up the stairs. I sway in the shower and hum as I change my clothes.

On my phone, I find the mushiest playlist about love on Spotify, lie on my bed and learn there are old bands with names like REO Speedwagon and The Bangles. Who knew?

After an hour of listening to music, I hear my mom yell up the stairs that dinner is ready.

“Any big Halloween plans?” she asks when we’re all seated at the table. The orange pumpkin season is upon us.

“Scar might be having a party.” Remembering Scarlett puts a small dent in my good mood. I rest my fork on the side of my plate.

Should I bring up Jeff? No, I decide. If Jeff had been a jerk three years ago, my parents wouldn’t still be so in love with him now. Dad, in particular, thinks Jeff’s the best guy ever. Plus, I don’t want to piss them off with the information that Jeff’s dating Scar. It’s better that they don’t know.

I pick up my fork and resume eating.

“That’s nice. I guess we’ll need to get you a costume.”

“If we give her permission to go,” Dad says tightly. He’s been wearing a dark expression since we sat down. He totally must’ve had a bad day at work.

Mom sighs. “Dave, we discussed this. Beth’s been on her best behavior since...” She trails off, but I can fill in the blanks.

Since she went to the police station in defense of our daughter’s killer. Since she went to his house after we ransacked her bedroom and did God knows what with that boy.

“Her best behavior,” Dad echoes, and I feel a chill, because it sounds more like a question than an agreement.

“And the shelter? How was that?” Mom casts a worried glance in Dad’s direction before turning back to me. “You showered when you got home. Did something happen at the shelter?”

“We washed the dogs and I stunk like wet pet hair.”

“We?” Dad echoes, narrowing his eyes at me.

The tiniest alarm pings in the back of my head. “The staff,” I say, lowering my gaze.

“You and Sandy?”

It’s the tone of his voice that makes me look up from my plate. The tone that says, I know you’re hiding something. I flick my eyes toward Mom first and then to Dad. They know. Or, he knows, at least. The alarm is loud this time. Buckle up, buttercup, I advise myself. This isn’t going to be pretty.

“No, me and Chase,” I answer. It’s the truth, but I’m hoping my parents don’t ask who Chase is.

“Who’s Chase?” Mom asks.

Too much to hope for.

“He works at the shelter. Nice guy. He’s—”

The sound of my father’s fist slamming against the table is almost deafening. All the silverware jangles loudly. A freshly baked bun falls off the serving platter and rolls toward my plate. I catch it before it topples off the table.

“It’s Charles Donnelly,” Dad growls to Mom.

Her eyes widen. “What?”

He scrapes his chair back in an angry rush. “What our well-behaved daughter has neglected to tell us is that she’s been working with that...that...criminal for the past two weeks.”

Mom gasps. “Beth, is this true?”

I clench my fork in my fist. “Yes, and there’s not much I can do about it, so that’s why I didn’t tell you guys,” I lie. “He’s been very respectful to me, though.”

My mother’s face pales. “He works with you,” she says, sounding dazed.

“I have no control over who the owners hire. But you don’t have to worry about us working together—”

“We’re not worried.” It’s my dad who answers. “Because he won’t be working with you after today.”

I drop my fork. It clatters onto my plate. “What do you mean?”

“I called the shelter and told them that if they continued to employ a murderer, I’d make it my business to see that their business was shut down.”

My jaw drops. What? “No,” I say, shooting to my feet. “He needs that job! It’s a condition of his probation to have a part-time job.”

“That’s too bad.” Dad’s not sorry at all. He hopes that Chase gets sent back to prison.

I take a deep breath, trying to control my rising anger. I can’t believe this. How did my dad even find out about—

“Jeff told you, didn’t he?” I demand after it dawns on me. And here I was trying to protect the asshole.

“Yes, he did,” Dad bites out.

“He’s dating Scar, you know,” I say snidely. “That’s how he found out. Because he and Scar came to the shelter today.”

“I know he’s dating your friend. Why shouldn’t he be? Unlike some people in this house, Jeff has always been up-front with us.”

“This is wrong. You’re wrong,” I tell Dad, but his face is set in stone. So I turn to Mom. “Please, Mom. You know this isn’t right. Chase served his time.”

Inexplicably, her response is “Why do you call him Chase?”