“I told you to stop calling me that, Kenny,” Veronica said, crossing her arms.
“Sorry, Veronica,” he said with a wink. “Old habits just die hard. You know how it is.”
“Mm-hmm.”
He blocked the door handle with his body, his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his khaki uniform as his eyes slid over her like oil. “You’re looking good.”
She stifled a groan. What did she have to do to get him to lose interest? Marrying another man hadn’t worked. Neither had running the campaign of his father’s opponent in the mayoral race.
Maybe she should stop brushing her teeth. Or stuff her bra with bologna.
Veronica gave him a tight smile. “Thanks, but I really am in a hurry.”
“Look,” Kenny said, giving no indication of moving, “I just wanted to say that I hope there’s no bad blood with us because of all this political stuff.” He gestured at Diane’s posters, giving her that killer smile again. “You know I don’t pay any mind to all that.”
“Well, I do,” Veronica said, tapping her foot against the pavement. “It is my job, after all.”
Kenny laughed, shaking his head. “I remember you telling me once you didn’t want a job; you just wanted to cook nice dinners for your husband and raise fat babies.”
“I said a lot of things when I was fourteen,” Veronica said. “If I recall, that was about the same time you wanted to be a rodeo clown.”
“Still do, a little,” Kenny said with a grin.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Veronica asked, looking pointedly at the badge on his chest and the gun at his hip.
He shrugged. “Technically, sure, but it’s perfectly within bounds for a deputy to stop and chat now and again. Preferred, even. Makes the people feel safer, knowing we care.”
“I’m not ‘the people,’ Kenny, and it’s hard to feel safe around you knowing how much your dad’s team loves to spin anything I say into a headline about how I—I don’t know—hate puppies or think all babies are ugly or something.”
Kenny narrowed his eyes. “You think I’m just mining for quotes? Ronnie, none of that campaign stuff has anything to do with me.”
“Sure, Kenny.”
“I swear. Of course I want my dad to win, but you’ve got to know I would never do anything to hurt you.”
She tilted her head, wondering if he even heard himself. “Yeah. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that the papers keep calling me Diane’s ‘controversial’ campaign manager. Or that your dad’s ad has our freaking prom photo in it while talking about the importance of ‘reliability’ and ‘family values.’”
“None of that was my decision!”
“No, it was just your decision to let the whole town think we were engaged after we broke up.”
“That was just a misunderstanding.”
Veronica let out an incredulous laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, fine. You are totally innocent. Can you please let me get to my car now?”
He shook his head but finally stepped aside, pursing his lips like she’d just shoved a lemon in his mouth. As she turned the car on, he rapped on her window with his knuckle, leaning over to peer in at her. She could tell he was waiting for her to roll down the window, but she just looked at him. “What?”
“I won’t tell my dad that I talked to you,” he said, his raised voice slightly muffled by the glass.
“I appreciate that.”
“See, I’m still a good person.”
Veronica fought the urge to roll her eyes. This is why I couldn’t marry you, she thought. “I know you are,” she said, giving him the validation she knew he needed before he’d allow her to leave.
Satisfied, he finally stepped away from her car.
Chapter Fourteen
JUSTIN
My shift the next morning goes horribly. The computers go down at work, which makes the customers grouchy, and then when they come back online, they can’t process credit cards, which makes the customers mean. I actually have an old lady tell me I should be ashamed of myself when the machine declines her Visa, because it’s supposed to be accepted everywhere.
Okay, first off, lady, your issue should be with Visa’s false advertising, not me. Second, it’s not like it was my choice for the machines to stop working. But the way she looks at me is like she’s caught me with a severed Ethernet cable in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other.
After my shift ends at five, I head back to Alyssa’s house, since I can’t imagine hungover Stan is much of an improvement on drunk Stan. I’ll give him a couple of days to detox, then test the waters again. I texted my mom over lunch to let her know where I’d be, and she’s predictably fine with it. As long as I’m not dead, she doesn’t care if I’m at home. She probably actually prefers that I’m not.
But all my plans to avoid the people I live with go up in smoke when I pull into Alyssa’s driveway to find Stan’s car parked outside.
I consider just heading home. If Stan is here, he’s not there, and Mission Avoid Stan is still pretty much my top priority. But if I do that, he’ll still have to come home eventually—probably sooner rather than later, once he realizes I’m not returning to Alyssa’s house. So I’d only be buying myself maybe an hour, max.
While I’m pondering where else I could go that Stan can’t find me, my phone buzzes. I glance down to see I’ve missed a series of texts from Alyssa while I was driving.
Are you on your way back yet?
Stan is here
At my house I mean
He says he’s really sorry about yesterday
He seems really messed up
Get here soon please
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to throw the phone out the window. It’s one thing to split when no one knew where I was; it’s another to ignore a plea from the one person in the world who actually cares about me.
Heaving a sigh, I pull my key out of the ignition and head inside.
Stan is sitting on the couch in the living room when I walk in, his leg bouncing up and down with enough nervous energy to break concrete. Alyssa perches in an armchair on the other side of the room, back straight. Neither of them is talking. Alyssa’s phone is in her hand, her head down as she types furiously. Probably another text for me, wondering where I am.
When he sees me, Stan practically leaps to his feet.
“I didn’t mean what I said yesterday,” he says, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I had a really bad day and I screwed up. But that wasn’t me. You’ve got to know it wasn’t me.”
“How’d you even know where I was?” I ask, even though it wouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to figure it out. It’s not like I have a ton of friends with couches I could’ve crashed on.
Stan ignores my question, grabbing my arm. “You have to come home.”
I yank my arm out of his grasp so hard he takes a stumbling step forward. “No, I don’t.”
“Look, I know I said some stuff I shouldn’t have, but this is really important.”
“What is really important?”
Stan’s eyes dart to Alyssa. “It’s a family thing.”