Falling Like Leaves (Bramble Falls, #1)(41)

Chapter Eighteen




My whole body is practically vibrating with anticipation as I wait at the bus station.

I finally get to see Dad, and my bedroom with my king-sized bed, and Fern, who I texted on my way here to make sure she was free for breakfast tomorrow before I have to head back to Bramble Falls.

Last night may have sucked, but I’m finally going home.

Five minutes before the bus is supposed to arrive, my phone dings.

Pen Thief Jake: hope you have fun in nyc tonight. Gotta tell you tho, you’re missing out



A second message comes with a photo of him dressed in his suit, his phone pointed at the mirror and a cute little smirk on his face.

I laugh despite the pang of guilt that snaps me like a rubber band.

Me: The girl sitting next to me agrees. She just asked for your number.

Pen Thief Jake: Is she cute?

Me: Nope, but I gave it to her, anyway.

Pen Thief Jake: a true friend Me: I really am sorry.

Pen Thief Jake: I know. don’t even think abou tit. Just have fun Pen Thief Jake: tit lol where’s autocorrect when you need it



I roll my eyes, laughing to myself as I put my phone in my pocket. But then it dings again.

Dad: Did you get the email?

Email?

I open my email app to find one unread message in my inbox—from Mr. Erikson.

Ellis,

I’m so sorry to do this, especially at the last minute, but I have to cancel tonight. Hopefully you get this before you catch your bus. I’d still love to meet with you to discuss your future at Columbia and the admissions process. I’ll be in touch soon to set something up for November. Things should slow down for me then.

Best,

Justin Erikson



I don’t have time to process the utter relief that creeps into my bones before my phone is ringing.

I swipe up. “Hey, Dad.”

“Did you get it?”

“I just saw it, yeah,” I say.

“So unprofessional. He always was a flake,” Dad says. “I should have known better.”

“Sounds like something came up. People get busy.”

“Yeah, well,” he says. But he doesn’t add anything.

“The bus is pulling up, so I’ll text you when I’m close, okay?” I say as the bus comes into view.

“What do you mean? Why would you still come?” he asks, truly sounding puzzled.

“Um, because I figured we could still get pizza and hang out?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Ellie Belly. Tonight’s not good for me,” he says. “Maybe in a few weeks. I’ll have Kara check my schedule and get you penciled in, okay?”

He’ll pencil me into his schedule. Like I’m a client.

“We’ll be back home in a few weeks,” I remind him.

“Well, then, that’s perfect.” A door closes wherever he is. “I have to go. Sorry again about Justin. Love you.”

The line goes dead as the bus comes to a stop.

I look down at my bags, then back at the bus. After how adamant I was that this meeting was too important to miss, heading back to Bramble Falls and telling everyone it was canceled feels too daunting. I could go back to the city and stay with Fern or just lie in my own bed, but being back in New York without seeing Dad somehow feels even worse. I wanted to spend time with him. I wanted him to want to spend time with me, to ask me about how things were going here.

What’s the point if he doesn’t care enough to make time for me? What could possibly be more important than his daughter, especially on a Saturday night? It’s not like he has work.

Although even if he did, the reality is, it would be more important to him.

The bus pulls away, leaving me crying on a bench thirty minutes outside Bramble Falls.



* * *



The sky is a marbled canvas of pinks and purples as we head back into town. Mom’s quiet in the driver’s seat, letting my sleeve absorb my silent tears without commentary. By the time we pull into the driveway, my eyes are puffy, my nose is red, and I’m ready to sleep until Monday. But when we go in, Mom follows me to the attic.

I stop on the steps and turn to face her. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to get you ready for homecoming.”

“That’s almost funny.”

“I’m not joking,” she says. “You worked your butt off making that gorgeous dress, you got yourself a date—”

“That date probably hates me now,” I say. Even though I know he doesn’t. Or, at least, I don’t think he does. But another boy—the boy I can’t stop thinking about—definitely does.

“Jake doesn’t hate you. He will be thrilled when you show up. Don’t let your dad ruin this for you,” she says.

“My eyes are red and puffy,” I whisper, tears springing to them again.

“That will go away while I fix your hair.” She gives me a gentle shove. “Get going. You’re already going to be late.”

When I turn the corner at the top of the stairs, Aunt Naomi is sitting on the bed in front of a mirror that wasn’t up here when I left.

“What’s going on?” I ask, slowly walking into my makeshift room.

She points to the supplies on the dresser. “Your mom said we were going to have some last-minute homecoming primping to do. I wasn’t sure if you would need a straightener, a curling iron, or a crimper, so I plugged in all three. Hoping like hell it doesn’t blow a fuse in this old house,” she laughs. “But they’re all ready to go. So sit.”