Moment of Truth - Kasie West Page 0,76

of me with my dad. And how I was going to clean up the mess I’d made. I was about to say as much when he put on his smile that closed him off, protected him.

I started to panic. Why was he pulling away?

“That’s what you do, right?” he asked. “Shut out the world when things get real. I thought you had some sort of breakthrough. That you realized that closing yourself off to everyone and climbing inside your head, living in the past, didn’t help. That you realized you need other people.”

My defenses shot up with his attack. I didn’t need him telling me how to deal with my problems and I definitely didn’t need him telling me everything I’d been doing wrong. I’d already had a guy willing to do that. “When did I say any of that?”

“I don’t know, maybe when you showed up on my porch last night. When you texted me this morning.”

“I asked for a little space, Jackson. Is that so wrong? What do you want from me?”

“Nothing, Hadley.” And with that he walked away. I didn’t move as he started his car. I didn’t move as he drove away.

“What just happened?” Amelia asked, her backpack on her shoulder, her shoes in her hand.

“I think he’s done with me.”

“No, he’s not. He’s just upset that you don’t need him to stay.”

I wondered if she was projecting. If she was the one upset.

“He’ll be fine tomorrow,” she said. “He’ll understand. You just need some downtime. You’re kind of in a big mess right now.”

She understood. I nodded.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

Jackson was wrong, I had learned that I needed other people. But I had also learned that some things had to be faced alone. “I’m sure.”

“Call me if you need me.”

Thirty-Seven

I rewound the tape and listened to those six sentences . . . for the tenth time. There was a smile in Eric’s voice as he spoke and I couldn’t help but agree with my dad. His tone, his making something serious into a joke seemed very much like Jackson.

I’d put the mangled bumper in the bed of the truck and moved the truck to the driveway. I’d tried to move the platform that was now bent and broken, but it was too heavy. The torn-up grass I’d pieced back together the best I could, covering the major bald spot, but it was a muddy mess even when I was done. Inside the truck, I’d cleaned the floor mats, wiped down the seats, and even refilled the water gun. I’d showered until the hot water ran cold and now I sat in the cab, ice packs on my shoulders, listening to his voice over and over. My parents had some home videos of my brother from when he was younger, cancer free. But none from when he was older. So this was the first time I’d heard his mature voice.

After he spoke, there was twenty minutes’ worth of silence. I knew this because I listened to every second of the rest of the tape to make sure he hadn’t said anything else. Then I rewound the tape all the way to the beginning and played the whole thing again, taking note of the songs now that I knew what they represented—songs that made him feel alive.

It was late in the afternoon by the time I finally pulled myself from the cab and went inside. I hung the keys to the truck carefully back in their glass box in the kitchen. Not that it would help. My parents would still know I had taken them out. My phone had died an hour before so I plugged it in.

Three missed calls were waiting for me when it got some charge back. All from my mother. Did she know? Had my neighbor called and tattled? There was no way someone hadn’t seen what was going on this morning.

As I was contemplating whether to call her back or not, my phone rang again, her name flashing on the screen. I took a deep breath and answered.

“Hello.”

“Hadley, hi. I’ve been trying to call you.”

“My phone was dead. Is the race done?” Maybe if we talked about that first, she’d know I was still a good daughter.

“It finished a couple hours ago.”

“It went smoothly?”

“Very. I was going to stay until tomorrow, but I’m tired and your father is coming home tonight and I just want to have all day tomorrow with the two of you. I need