Somebody Else's Sky (Something in the Way 2)

She and Dad exchanged a look, but he quickly refocused on cutting his steak. “What about work?”

“He hasn’t even been out twenty-four hours,” Tiffany said.

“And he’s had a lot of time with nothing to do but sit and think about it.”

“I’m looking for something in construction,” Manning said, his voice deeper than usual. “I’ve got word out that I’ll take anything.”

“That sounds wise,” Dad said. “It’s not as if you’ll have a shot at law enforcement now.”

I set down my fork. Dad wanted to embarrass Manning by pointing out his mistakes, but he didn’t know those mistakes were mine. I was the one who was embarrassed. I’d ruined Manning’s future, probably in ways I still didn’t even know about.

Manning caught my eye. He stared hard at me as he intoned, “Like I said, I no longer want that. I don’t. Not at all.”

“Why not?” Dad asked. “A little disillusioned now, I imagine.”

“You could say that.”

“We’ll find you something else, babe,” Tiffany said.

I looked at Tiffany. She needed to stop using the word babe before I flipped out. It sounded worse than Dad’s steak knife scraping the china.

“I have some money saved up from inside,” Manning said.

Dad looked impressed. “How’d you manage that?”

Manning didn’t answer. “I’m happy to help with the rent.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Mom said. “You just focus on finding work. Use what you have to get yourself a nice suit for interviews.”

Manning closed his mouth, his jaw ticking. This was too much for me. I couldn’t imagine how hard it was for him. I wanted it all to go away. To go back in time and undo the mess I’d made. Opening my mouth to tell the truth would just make things worse. I was trapped.

Mom stood from the table. “I think we have some ice cream. How’s that sound?”

Nobody answered.

“Tiffany, help me clean up?”

“Why can’t Lake?” Tiffany whined, but took her plates into the kitchen. Since she’d left everyone else’s, I got up as well.

“Sir,” Manning said, “would it be all right if I went over to the wall and smoked?”

As much as I loved the smell of cigarettes for taking me back to Manning, hearing that he still smoked gave me a pang of disappointment. I’d hoped, even though the guards had taken the bracelet I’d made Manning, that he’d quit like he’d promised before he’d gone away.

Dad pushed his chair back and got up. “Just keep it away from the house.”

I picked up my plate and glanced at Manning from under my lashes. I might’ve expected him to be distracted by the mental warfare happening at the table, but he looked right back at me. It was our first moment alone. I went around the table to him, and his head tilted back. He didn’t look angry—just curious.

I piled his dish on top of mine. “Hi,” I said.

“Was the steak your idea?” he asked.

It wasn’t the question I’d expected. There was so much to say. I smiled. “Yes.”

He nodded once. Before I could say anything else, and there was a lot on the tip of my tongue, he shifted to get cigarettes from his back pocket and stood. His presence was suddenly so huge and hovering that I fumbled the dishes, dropping a couple forks.

He stuck a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, picked up the silverware, and gestured for me to go. “After you.”

We were closer than we’d been since the morning he was taken away—since that night in the truck. Remembering his hand inching up my shorts, my face warmed. I ducked my head and went around him, into the kitchen. Tiffany and Mom were arguing in hushed tones, but stopped when we walked in.

Manning stopped in the doorway and held up his cigarette. “I’m just going to . . .”

“Sure,” Tiffany said. “I’ll call you when dessert’s ready.”

He disappeared into the dark.

“But dad’s being awful,” Tiffany whined to Mom when they were alone again. “He’s going to scare Manning away.”

“It’s just because he cares about you. He doesn’t want you getting mixed up with trouble.”

“Manning isn’t trouble. I swear. I’m probably a worse influence on him than he is on me.”

“Trust me, I believe that,” Mom said.

I put the dishes in the sink, snuck by unnoticed, and slipped back outside. I spotted Manning’s cigarette first, a pinprick of orange light near the bushes, and then him with his back to the wall. Crossing my arms into myself, I went to him, the grass damp on my bare feet.

“Shouldn’t be out here without shoes,” he said when I was close. “You might cut your foot.”

“On what?”

“Who knows.”

In that way, he was still my Manning. Overprotective, always thinking the worst. I breathed a little easier knowing he hadn’t changed too much. “You’re smoking again.”

“I never stopped.”

“You said you’d try.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. I knew what he’d say. A lot had changed since that morning we’d stood outside of Reflection and I’d asked him to be better. “I still have your bracelet,” I said. “If you want it.”