Sweet Liar (Candy #2)(13)

Theo: Peachy. You?





Peachy? There was something seriously wrong with him.





Me: Same here. Just peachy.





Bullshit for bullshit. Unfortunately, that approach didn’t work. There was no reply.





Me: I don’t even like peaches. What’s going on?

Theo: Seriously? Peaches are great. Peach cobbler, peach pie, and other peachy stuff I can’t think of right now. How do you think that saying got started? Because peaches are awesome, obviously.





I sighed. After weeks of no contact, this was what we were talking about?





Me: I stand corrected. Peaches = yum. Are you okay?





There was another long pause.





Theo: Just not up for talking right now. Had a treatment, but wanted to get back to you so you wouldn’t worry. The not worrying you thing doesn’t seem to be working, though. Will call you next week. OK?

Me: OK. Miss you and your inspirational calendar quotes.

Theo: Burned that calendar.





Reluctantly smiling at that, I watched the screen, but there was nothing more from him.

The need to cry crept up on me again. Everything was going to shit. I needed to talk to my father. I needed to talk to Drew. I needed to see Theo.

At the moment, I could do none of those things because I was waiting for Jonah to come back with the answer about whether I could speak to my father. That burned me worse than anything, needing his permission to talk to my father. It was infuriating.

Slipping the phone in my pocket, I walked into the kitchen and made a bowl of corn flakes. When I was done eating, I put the bowl on the floor and watched Pumpkin rise from his place in the corner of the kitchen where he’d been watching me, trot over to it, and start to delicately lap up the leftover milk.

It was at that moment that the doorbell rang, and my stomach jumped. It had to be Jonah. My friends didn’t come here, and my father didn’t have any friends that I knew of.

My hair was still wet from my shower, dripping a cold puddle of moisture onto my back. On my way to the door, I grabbed a sweatshirt from my room and pulled it over my head.

When I opened the door, there was Jonah, as expected. He had on his leather coat and a pair of black wool gloves. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold that was seeping into the house. His expression was slightly wary but mostly unreadable again. A good night’s sleep had apparently put his mask back in place.

I moved aside and closed the door quickly behind him. His movements were stiff and awkward, as if he didn’t know how to act around me anymore.

Pulling off his gloves, he said, “I’ll place the call to your father in about ten minutes. Does that work?”

My eyes widened. “Um, yeah. That works.”

“I’m not sure how long you’ll have to talk. They’ll cut it off on his end at some point.” Jonah took off his coat and draped it over the back of the couch. “Did you get any sleep?”

My heart was pounding and I was supposed to make small talk? “A little. You?”

“Some,” he replied distractedly. “Do you want to sit in here or go into another room?”

Something occurred to me then. “Are you going to listen?”

“This isn’t a private conversation, Candy.”

“Of course it isn’t.” I deflated because I should have realized. No doubt my father knew and would say nothing of consequence, at least not with them listening. Hearing his voice would have to be enough.

“I’d rather talk in the kitchen, I guess.” I’d spent part of my night and all of my morning on the living room couch. I could use a change of scene.

I walked into the kitchen and could feel Jonah’s gaze on me as I picked my cereal bowl up off the floor and placed it in the sink. Rather than sit with him in strained silence, I stayed busy by making tea. After placing my mug in the microwave, I watched it spin slowly through the little square window. When it was done, I dropped in the tea bag and brought it over to the table.

I hadn’t offered Jonah any this time, and he eyed mine. He could eye it all he wanted. I wasn’t waiting on him today.

Jonah watched the time while I sipped my tea. My body felt so taut in the stilted atmosphere between us, I thought I might break if I tried to move.

Sitting across from me, Jonah looked as if he felt the same way. In the hours that had passed since he left here last night, things had turned even chillier between us. Where was the Jonah who’d kissed me and made me feel alive again? Not here, sitting in my little yellow kitchen right now.

The few remaining minutes dragged out, and I realized the tea was a mistake when the few sips I’d taken began to slosh around uncomfortably in my jittery stomach.

“It’s time,” Jonah finally said. He picked up his phone and dialed.

Sitting up straighter, I watched his every move closely, listening intently when he held the phone to his ear. I was more nervous than I thought I’d be. With people listening in, we couldn’t talk about the situation, not that my father would tell me anything anyway. What would he want to talk about then? Did he even want to talk to me?

I was still second-guessing myself when Jonah said, “I have her here,” and handed his cell phone to me.