Sweet Liar (Candy #2)(14)

Hesitantly, I took it and moved it up to my ear, a strange reluctance taking hold.

“Candy?”

I gasped at the sound of my father’s voice as my throat thickened and tears sprang to my eyes.

“Dad,” I whispered.

“How are you, little one?”

Sniffling, I pushed to my feet restlessly. I couldn’t sit still. “I’m okay. How are you?”

As I waited for him to answer, I walked out into the living room, not wanting Jonah’s watchful eyes on me.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

I swallowed, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Don’t worry about you? How can you say that? You should have told me. I asked you to talk to me so many times.”

There was a pause before he replied. “What would I say, Candy? There was nothing you could do.”

His answer was so typical of him.

“We should have left sooner.”

“It’s better for you this way. Now you can finish school, graduate, and go to college like you were meant to.”

I brushed away the tears spilling down my cheeks. “I don’t think it’s better.”

“Listen to me. You have to stay strong. I’ll be disappointed if you let yourself fall apart.”

Anger washed over me. I could fall apart if I wanted to. If anyone was entitled to fall apart right now, it was me.

Did he think I would get on with things like nothing happened? That his life wouldn’t spill over into mine? Did he have any idea what Jonah and Victor wanted me to do? What would he think if he did?

As much as I wanted to tell him, I knew I couldn’t, and I didn’t want to spend the call being furious with him or making him angry with me.

“What’s it like there?” I asked, changing the subject and picturing a jail cell.

My dad sighed loudly over the phone. “I have a room with a bed and a window. It’s small but functional.”

“I tried to help you,” I said, remembering how the gun felt in my hand.

He was quiet for a moment. “I know. I saw.”

I swallowed at how little he had to say about it, foolishly hoping he’d somehow be proud of me and of how far I’d been willing to go to help him. Instead, I could hear a tinge of disapproval in his brief response.

“You can live in the house as long as you want or sell it,” he was saying. “You know by now it’s yours.”

I sat down on the couch. “Sounds like you don’t plan on coming back.”

“I don’t know what will happen. I’m taking it one day at a time. But I want you to take care of yourself. Keep up with your schoolwork, and even though I’m not there, cook dinner each night the way you like to. I already miss your enchiladas. The food here is lousy.”

I wiped at my runny nose with a trembling hand. “You’ll get out of there and come home again. I believe that. So you need to believe it too.”

There was a rustling sound from his end. “I’m sorry, Candy. They’re telling me it’s time to go. Don’t forget what I said. Make the enchiladas tonight and think of me. Follow your mother’s recipe, and I’ll think of you too at dinnertime. I want you to promise me.”

“I promise,” I said softly, knowing I had no appetite for enchiladas or anything else.

Then there was a click and he was gone.

Still gripping the phone, I just sat there. A tissue box appeared on the coffee table in front of me. Glancing up, I saw Jonah, and all I could think was that he knew the whole time. He knew they were taking my father away and I might never see him again, and he’d never said a word.

“Candy . . .”

Despite the plea in his voice, I stood up abruptly and carelessly tossed his phone onto the table. Brushing past him, I walked down the hallway to my bedroom, and closed the door behind me.

As I sat down on my bed, I grabbed a tissue from my nightstand and tried to calm down. When I heard the knock at my door, I wasn’t surprised, and when it opened despite my not offering an invitation, I wasn’t shocked by that either. Jonah was going to plead his case again. I could feel it, and it was the last thing I wanted to hear right now.

As he came into the room, he eyed my tear-stained face and his already sullen expression fell even further. Despite my glare, he sat down on the edge of my bed and looked at me.

Shifting, he rubbed his cheek. “Maybe talking to him was a mistake. It just upset you more.”

He watched me, and I could see the helplessness he felt in his hesitant eyes and turned-down lips.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I don’t want you to get close to Drew or his family. There’s no guarantee it will help your father. No one is promising you anything. They want to use you to get to the truth the same way they have all along.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “But your father wants me to—”

“I’ll smooth it over with him. You don’t owe him anything. You should get on with your life. That’s what your father wants. He made his choice. This happened to him, not you. You still have all your choices ahead of you.”

Jonah extended his hand and rested it on my forearm.

I stared down at his hand, at his long tapered fingers and the raised network of veins along the back. He waited for me to remove my arm, but I didn’t. It would make the rift between us even deeper, and for some reason I didn’t want to do that.