“Nah, not today,” he said with a groan as he adjusted in his seat.
My brows shot up in surprise. My father hadn't had a sip to drink since the day of the accident almost two weeks earlier. He was on some pretty strong medications and the doctors had warned him about mixing alcohol with them. To make it easier on him, I'd tossed all the alcohol that was in the house, but he’d taken his last round of pain pills the night before. If he wanted to, he could go right back to the bottle.
“How about we run through DQ and get a Blizzard?” he asked.
I couldn't remember the last time my dad and I had done something as simple as drive through a fast food place. I nodded and headed for the DQ just down the road. We each ordered an Oreo Blizzard and ate them while sitting in the DQ parking lot, with birds chirping and light filtering in through the back window of the truck.
It was the best afternoon I'd had with my dad in two years.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Lilah
Chase had set an old gardening book on the edge of my bed. Its pages were yellow-tinted and the binding was torn. I sat down on top of my comforter and pulled it closer so I could inspect the front cover. It claimed to be an encyclopedia of plants that could grow well in Texas.
I gently tugged open the front cover and froze when I saw my mom's scribbled handwriting right next to mine. We’d each signed our names.
This book belongs to:
Elaine and Lilah Calloway
My letters were nearly impossible to read, but I could make out the “Lil” in Lilah. I ran my hand over the old ink and then turned to the next page. “Fruit Trees” was printed in bold across the top and beneath that my mother had scribbled a few notes. I oriented the book and held it up just below my face so I could read her writing better. The light from my window poured over the page, illuminating a forgotten piece of my past.
This morning I asked Lilah what type of fruit trees she'd like to grow. She listed grapes, oranges, and bananas—probably because they were still on her mind after breakfast. I explained that grapes grow on vines and that banana trees take up a lot of space. Then she said she'd rather do raspberries anyway, so we're going to try raspberries this year. I doubt Lilah will let them ripen long enough before she picks them. Raspberries are her favorite right now.
I didn't realize I was crying until a tear traced down my cheek and fell onto the page. The fat drop of water sat directly next to her writing and I simultaneously wiped it away with one hand and reached with the other hand to block another tear from ruining her penmanship.
I’d had no clue the book even existed. I realized it must have been hidden in those boxes of her old things—things I had no interest in looking through, but Chase had. He’d found something I never would have.
That first page was as far as I got that day, but it was the start of a change. When I closed the cover and took a deep breath, I could almost remember scribbling my name alongside hers.
Chapter Sixty
Chase
“I can't believe Trent got kicked out for the rest of the year,” Brian said, letting his tray slam onto the lunch table hard enough to tip over my bottle of water.
I reached up to right it before it spilled onto my tray. “He did?” I asked.
Brian nodded.
“He's in juvie for a few months and then he has to repeat his second semester to graduate,” Brian said, twisting off the cap to his Gatorade.
“Where'd you hear that?” I asked.
“I overheard the ladies in the front office talking about it while I was waiting to see the college counselor,” he explained.
“He deserves even more than that,” I said with a sharp tone. The police had questioned me and Ashley a few times after the event, but I hadn't been sure what they'd do to Trent. Guess I finally had my answer.
Connor walked up to our table and slid into the seat beside Brian.
“If we don't beat Oak Hill this week, we're officially out of the playoffs,” Connor said as he took a seat.
“Thank you for that reminder,” Brian groaned, tossing a fry at him.
I was half-listening to their conversation, half-wondering where Lilah was. For the last two weeks she'd switched back and forth between eating lunch in the library and eating out in the nature center. I always angled myself toward the front of the cafeteria on the off chance she’d walk by. A few times, I'd spotted her with her mother's book in her arms, clutched close to her chest. She'd texted me the night after she’d found it, just a simple thank you, but I knew it’d meant something to her.