Here With You (A Laurel Heights Novel) - By Kate Perry Page 0,44

with any one thing for that long."

"It sounds like you're saying I'm a screw up." She crossed her arms. "Don't forget that you still had doubts even though you have a calling. You came here needing me to convince you to keep going with your music, so don't pretend you're so much better than me."

"I'm not saying that."

"That's not what it sounds like."

"I'm just saying how can you know if it's what you're supposed to do if you don't give anything a try? You move on before you can really commit to something."

"Like what?"

"Like—" He shook his head, visibly calming himself down. "I don't want to spend our time fighting, Nic."

Because they didn't have that many days left together. He didn't say it, but she got it nonetheless. He was pretty much done with his song. The music was all there, and he himself said the words would quickly follow. Their time was drawing to an end.

She'd known all along this day would come. She just thought she'd be prepared for it. She stood up, trying to hide her sadness. "I need to go to work."

He smiled a little as he strummed his guitar. "You might want to get dressed first."

Standing, she let out a sound that hopefully sounded like a chuckle. She shivered as she walked to her bedroom. She wasn't sure if it was from chilling in the damp towel or because of the disappointed way Grif stared at her.

Chapter Nineteen

Rachel woke up from a dream that Aaron had kissed her, and it'd been so great.

She sat up in bed, pushing the covers aside as she remembered the night before. Only it wasn't a dream. He had kissed her, and it'd been better than great. She started to smile—

But then she remembered the look on her dad's face when he caught them in the car.

The happiness she'd woken up with melted into dread. Last night, her dad hadn't said anything to her beyond a curt "Go to bed." Usually he was gone to work way before she got up, but she had a feeling this morning was going to be different.

She wondered if anyone would notice if she spent the next couple years hidden in her room.

Sighing, she forced herself to get out of bed. She washed the smeared eyeliner from under her eyes and made herself look as much like a good girl as she could. To give herself extra confidence, she wore one of her new bras and panties, topping them with a plain T-shirt and jeans.

As ready as she'd ever be, she decided, grabbing her bag and going downstairs.

Her dad was waiting for her in the kitchen. He didn't look up from his tablet even though she knew he knew she was standing there. He calmly took another sip of his coffee and swiped the screen.

Nerves twisted her gut. Normally he'd want to "parse" the situation and "come to a mutually beneficial resolution." The fact that he was so stony freaked her out. It meant he was pissed.

Swallowing, she shuffled to the table and slumped onto a chair. She couldn't believe it, but she'd give anything to hear him use those workplace words he liked that drove her crazy.

He swiped the screen again, his jaw tight.

She frowned, feeling the anger rise in her. He never paid attention to her. He didn't have the right to be pissed with her—it wasn't like he cared. "If you don't say anything, we're both going to be late."

He pushed the tablet aside and glared at her. "That's what you're going to open with?"

She crossed her arms. "What was I supposed to say?"

"Why don't you try I'm sorry?"

"That would imply that I regretted my actions." She felt a twinge of guilt at how bratty she sounded. Her mom never liked it when she took that tone.

Her dad set his coffee cup down so hard she was surprised it didn't crack. "I've had enough, Rachel. It's bad enough that you've been uncommunicative and difficult. Last night, you broke a trust. A tentative trust because you broke it before, by getting drunk at that party."

She winced—she couldn't help it. Getting drunk really had been stupid. "Last night was nothing like that party," she mumbled, sinking lower into her seat.

"You snuck out with a boy," her dad yelled, slamming his hand onto the table.

She jumped, her breath catching in her throat. Her dad never yelled. Ever. She gripped the edges of her chair's seat, not sure what'd happen next.

"Who knows what you were