Sweet Liar (Candy #2)(86)

“No.”

His eyes rounded dramatically. “You’re going to let her get away with that? Who are you? What did you do with the real Candy?”

“Kristen’s already in enough trouble. I’m not going to do anything else to her.” Last I heard, she was still on probation because of the drugs I’d planted in her locker.

He angled a look at me. “The Candy I used to know would have.”

I smiled. “Maybe I’ve matured.”

Theo studied me. “Maybe you’re getting soft.”

“I’m not getting soft. I’m learning when to let things go.”

He took a step back and looked at me. “What about him? Have you let him go?” Theo purposefully didn’t say Jonah’s name this time.

I glanced away. “No.”

He eyed me thoughtfully. “Meeting him changed you. Being part of a family again changed you too. I know you’re still hurting, but they’ve been good for you.”

I would never admit it out loud, but I suspected Theo was right. I didn’t feel alone anymore, and when the loneliness went away, the anger and bitterness faded. They weren’t completely gone, but they were in the background now, under control.

When school ended for the day, I went outside and stood there for a moment. If it was too cold to walk, I was supposed to call Lorraine for a ride. But I had my gloves that I’d retrieved from Lea’s house along with my coat, and I decided to walk, even though there was a nip in the air.

I couldn’t help thinking of Jonah each time I put on my heated gloves. As much as I missed him, my sympathy for all he’d gone through was tempered by how much he was worrying us all, especially Lorraine. She checked her phone and her messages constantly, hoping to hear something from him. It was unkind of Jonah not to at least get a message to his mother.

The walk home from school was only a mile if I cut through the woods, and so I arrived home in no time at all. Lorraine’s little house, set back from the road and hidden in the trees, was our home now. Lorraine and my father and I all lived there together. Pumpkin too, of course.

Despite the new living situation and all that happened to him, my father hadn’t changed. I didn’t think he could, even if he wanted to. He still worked for the organization, and he still killed people for a living. It was all he knew, and he was good at it.

Having Lorraine know everything about my father and love him in spite of it was something new for him. She refused to tiptoe around his job. Unlike my mother, who was a quiet, subdued kind of person, Lorraine challenged him and fought with him when they disagreed. She kept him on his toes, and much to my surprise, he seemed to like it.

I asked him once what repercussions there might be from the information he gave to the Chinese. The fact that he didn’t like talking about it was obvious. But he admitted there were likely some consequences, things like government computer networks going down or getting hacked. Stuff I’d heard about on the news, although I had no idea my father was responsible for at least some of those security breaches.

“Candy, is that you?” Lorraine called from the kitchen when I walked in.

“In the flesh.” I hung up my coat, dropped my bag by the door, and went to find her.

“It’s your turn to make dinner, if you still want to. If not, I could whip something up.”

We both looked at my mother’s recipe book sitting on the counter. Lorraine was very conscious of respecting my mother’s memory, and even though she loved to cook, she wouldn’t use the recipe book without me, or at least without my permission.

I looked at the recipe book, and then at her. “I really liked that pot roast you made last week. Maybe you could show me how to make it?”

She bit her lip, and I could see how happy my question made her. Cooking was one of the ways we related to each other, and I liked finding common ground with her.

A few hours later, Lorraine and I were elbow deep in chopped vegetables when we heard the front door open. My father called out to us, “We have a guest for dinner. Why don’t you come out here and see who it is?”

Lorraine raised her eyebrows in question. My father never brought home guests. “Good thing we’ve got plenty of food,” she said. Pulling off her apron, she washed her hands and walked out into the living room.

When I heard her cries, my heart jumped into my throat. They were followed by the sound of deep laughter that reached inside my chest and squeezed. I’d only ever heard him laugh that way a handful of times, but I recognized the sound as well as I knew my own voice.

Nerves set in as I stared at the doorway to the living room. Jonah was out there, just beyond it. What if he’s only here to see his mother? What if he doesn’t feel the same way about me anymore?

“Is Candy here?” I heard him ask.

My breaths quickened and I headed for the doorway, unable to help myself, drawn by his voice.

When I looked out and saw him standing in the living room with my father on one side and Lorraine on the other, familiar butterflies swarmed in my belly. He was a sight for sore eyes in a navy Henley shirt and a pair of faded jeans. His dark hair was a little longer, worn in his familiar careless style pushed back off his forehead.

His face had healed, except for the scar beside his right eye, which looked a little pinker and rawer than before. Victor had aimed for that spot when he was punching Jonah. He’d pummeled it again and again, going for a place he thought was weak or that had meaning behind it. His cruelty was horrific, and I shuddered each time I thought of it.