“I’m a big girl,” Brianna said. “If it gets ugly, you won’t want to be there. I’ll tell him alone.”
“Fine,” Allison said. “I’ve got a couple of errands to run. Will half an hour be enough time before I come back?”
“I’ll text you,” Brianna said, and closed the car door.
As Allison drove off, she walked through the front entrance of the rehab wing. She loved her father, and they’d always been close. But she had never disappointed him as cruelly as she was about to this morning. It was all she could do to keep from turning around and running out of the building.
Last night she’d resisted the urge to call Liam and cry on his shoulder again. She knew what he would tell her—take responsibility and face up to it like an adult. She didn’t want to call him again until she’d proven she could do just that.
She found her father in the gym, using a cane to walk with the help of a therapist. He was dressed in sweats, his color good, his face freshly shaven, but he still winced with every step. He was in obvious pain.
He glanced up and saw her. “Hello, honey. Did Allison come with you?”
“She’ll be here a little later.” Brianna took a deep breath. “Daddy, we need to talk.”
He gave her a puzzled frown. “If it’s about your car—”
“No. It isn’t about the car.”
He glanced at the therapist. “Can we go back to my room? I think I’ve walked enough for now.”
The husky young man walked him back down the hall to his room and settled him in a cushioned armchair. Brianna followed, closing the door after the therapist left.
“So it’s that kind of talk, is it?” Burke’s voice had taken on an edge.
“I’m afraid so.” Brianna sat on the side of the bed.
“You look like you just lost your best friend. What’s the matter?”
“I’m in trouble. Just listen, all right?”
In a voice that shook sometimes, she told him about the party and the beers she’d drunk, about being stopped by the police and arrested because she was under the legal drinking age.
“Allison posted bail and picked me up,” she said, deciding not to mention that she’d called Garrett first. “She read me the riot act on the way home. She even told me I wasn’t going to get the new car you promised me.”
“She was right. You’re not.”
“Oh, I know that. I don’t deserve a new car. And with the theater in trouble, I know you can’t afford one.”
“Go on.” He was stone-faced. She could sense his displeasure building.
“Allison took me to a lawyer the next day. She—the lawyer—said that the best I could hope for would be to get the DUI charge dropped and plead guilty to underage drinking, but only if I’m very lucky. Either way, I’d at least get a fine and probation with community service, maybe even jail time. And I wouldn’t be able to leave the state until I served it.”
“What about school?” He spoke in a flat, measured tone as if controlling himself by force of will.
“That’s the worst part. I’ll probably have to drop out of Northwestern, and they might not readmit me. The lawyer called the court and got permission for Allison to drive me back to Evanston so I can clean out my dorm room and talk to the dean. I’ll be able to tell you more after that.”
“So when are you and Allison going?”
“Tomorrow. We want to do it while you’re still in rehab so we can be with you when you come home.”
“You make it sound like I’m going to need babysitters.”
“Dad—”
“Why didn’t you tell me right away when you got arrested? At least I could’ve given you some sensible advice. Damn it, I’m your father. And I’m tired of being treated like a helpless invalid who doesn’t know what day it is!”
“Daddy—”