this anymore,” he decides, coming over to yank the bowtie from my neck. “Stand still.” His forehead creases in concentration as he loops it around my neck. I only relent, raising my chin, because there isn’t much time to fuck around here. He doesn’t meet my eyes when he asks, “Is she special?”
I stare at the ceiling, throat constricting with a dry swallow. My hands feel clammy, neck prickling uncomfortably. “Yeah,” I quietly confess. I don’t do it because of whatever bullshit bonding moment he’s trying so hard to actualize. I just can’t stand the thought of saying anything else, because she is.
Vandy is special.
His fingers stall momentarily, before pulling the tie through the knot. “Ah,” he says, grinning. “The firefly pendant was for her.”
“Dad,” I warn. He’s getting too close and it’s making me fidgety as hell. That’s what I get for having it shipped here. The one day this asshole is actually home to intercept the mail, and it’s the day her charm had arrived. “Back off.”
He looks taken aback by my tone, but easily recovers, tightening the knot and stepping away. “It’ll hold,” he decides.
“Thanks,” I mutter, trying to smooth over the tension. “It’s not that I don’t—”
He raises a hand, stopping me. “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be ready to listen.”
I observe him, this strange man I barely know anymore. He’s not quite the same dad I remember. That dad had been firm, but unyieldingly present. He would have pushed. He would have interrogated me about this until we were both blue in the face, and then he would have opened that drawer over there, dumped it out, and given me the third degree about all the things inside.
This dad doesn’t know me—not really. But lately, all this space he’s given me feels less like a cold shoulder and more of a generosity. This dad is oddly patient, and I wonder if it’s the same kind of patience I’ve grown into. The necessary kind. The sort of patience you’ve been forced to feel. Sometimes I see the way he walks through the house, eyes averted, like looking at these walls is physically painful, and I feel bad for him. Because maybe the other dad was present and firm, but this is a dad I can relate to.
Somehow, he’s become the better version.
“Dude—” a voice whispers from the dark. “You’re late.”
I make out Ben’s face from where he’s tucked against the wall in a dark shadow. Caroline is next to him. They, like me, are dressed in formal wear—not exactly my first choice for a break-in. “Sorry. It was this fucking tie. I couldn’t find it, then I couldn’t tie it, and shit. I know. I’m here.”
Caroline assesses me. “The bowtie was a strong choice, McAllister. I approve.”
Not sure I was asking for her approval, but whatever. “Are you ready?”
“We’ve been ready,” Ben replies, holding up his laptop. “The cameras are shut off for the next hour—on a loop. Buster shouldn’t notice anything.”
Buster is old and probably taking a nap in his chair right now. He’s not my biggest concern. Dewey, on the other hand, is conniving and wise. He’ll be waiting for something to go down tonight, even if it’s just some d-bag spiking the punch bowl. That’s why we have Sebastian and Carlton, though.
It takes almost nothing to get into the main building. I’d already swiped and traced a key days ago. A little marker, some clear packing tape, an old orange juice jug, and some careful scissor work had provided me with a passable blank, which I’d already tested before the pep rally.
I slip it into the keyhole, using my torque wrench to turn the tumbler.
Caroline grins wolfishly when the door opens. “Radical.”
For several logistical reasons, we have to take the long way through the building, sneaking through the east corridor and past the languages wing. Unlike the gym at Thistle Cove, the hallowed halls of Preston Prep are not completely darkened. I feel exposed and jittery under the soft emergency lights, hugging the lockers and walls as we tread quietly.
When we reach the tech room, I pull my kit from my pocket and start testing picks. Swiping a key to the main doors was easy—it’s the most worn and accessible key on the janitor’s ring. But finding the key to this room in that mess? Fucking impossible.
Ben watches me work while Caroline anxiously surveys the hall, teeth gnawing at her thumbnail.
“So, uh,” Ben starts, eyes fixed on my hands as I work