“Everything’s fine,” Tara answered. Wes turned the TV on low and sat on the bed as he started flipping channels.
“That’s why I called,” Tara continued. “You know, in case you or dad were worried we got caught in the storm.” She didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm.
“Your father is worried about you,” her mom insisted. “So am I.”
“He didn’t even ask if I was okay, he just started yelling. What he needs to worry about is if I’ll ever talk to him again!”
“Tara.”
“I’m serious, Mom, I’m done. I can’t even live my life anymore.”
“Honey, listen, you don’t really know this guy. We just want you to be careful.”
Tara turned toward the window where the storm outside matched her emotions. When her mom put it that way, she understood where they were coming from, and she respected their concerns. But why couldn’t her dad understand he had to trust in the person he’d raised her to be? If she was done, she had to go all the way, no matter how hard it was to say the words hesitating on her tongue.
“I’ve been more than careful for the past thirteen years, Mom.” Deep breath. “I’m not Annabel. I wasn’t like her then; I’m not like her now.”
She heard her mother’s soft intake of breath on the other end of the line. Tara swallowed hard, but waited in silence until her mother spoke again.
“Oh, Tara, I know that, honey.”
“Well, so should Dad.” She squared her shoulders and said, “Tell him until he’s ready to apologize and treat me like an adult, I have nothing to say to him.”
She replaced the receiver with deliberate care, aware that the TV now remained on one channel. Taking a deep, silent breath, she faced Wes, wondering what he’d say. He’d scooted back on one side of the bed, his legs stretched comfortably in front of him, his back against the headboard. His gaze didn’t stray from the screen as he reached out a hand to pat the opposite side of the bed, indicating she take a seat.
“How long before the pizza gets here?”
Tara eased onto the bed. “Ten, fifteen minutes.”
He offered her the remote, but she shook her head, and he left it on the Discovery Channel. Not that she paid attention to the actual program. Between being intensely aware of him a mere three feet away, and wondering what would happen when she went home, she was lucky to recognize there were seals on the screen.
“Who’s Annabel?”
“My sister.” She hesitated a moment. “She died when she was sixteen—someone slipped ecstasy into her drink at a party.”
Wes swiveled his head to look at her, then reached over to clasp her hand in his.
And there were the tears she knew would come if she told him about something so personal.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
She reached up with her free hand to wipe away the moisture in her eyes. “It happened awhile ago. I’m fine.”
He kept watching her, his thumb rubbing across her skin in soft, comforting circles.
“What?”
He lifted a shoulder, and she huffed in annoyance.
“Just say it.”
“Cutting your dad off like that seems pretty harsh. You should talk to him.”
Tara couldn’t believe her ears. “You do realize it’s you he doesn’t like, right?”
He smiled gently and squeezed her hand. “In light of what you just told me, it’s what I represent. I don’t take it personally.”
“He means it personally with any guy I like,” she retorted. Realizing what she’d admitted, she hurried on. “I’ve tried to talk to him many times about how overbearing his is, but he never listens. Maybe now he’ll hear what I don’t say. My only other choice is to move away.”