When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys #2) - Emma Scott Page 0,51

watched Mom eat two slices without letting on that we noticed, smiling into our plates. Dazia had gone back to Washington DC, ready to fly back in a moment’s notice if we needed her. As much as I appreciated everything she did for us, I was glad it was just the four of us again. It almost felt like real life.

“And then Jared asked Michaela to the Winter Formal, but she said no,” Amelia said animatedly. “He’s been a real jerk lately so a bunch of us are going to go together as a group instead.”

“That sounds like a solid plan,” Mom said. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time at the dance.” She looked to me. “Does the high school have a Winter Formal?”

“No,” I said. “Prom’s the next big one.”

“Yup,” Amelia said with a snicker. “The girls are already lining up, hoping they too have a chance at being stood up by River Whitmore.”

“Here we go again,” I muttered, though I was too glad to see Amelia back to her old smart-ass self to be mad.

“Good one,” Mom said, high-fiving Amelia. “Is that what you call a sick burn?”

I rolled my eyes with a laugh. “I’ve apologized to Violet, like, a hundred times. She’s forgiven me. You all should try it sometime.”

“Of course, we have. It’s just so unlike you.”

“It was months ago, Mom,” I said with a smile. “Everybody’s gotten over it except you.”

Amelia batted her eyelashes at me. “Where were you that night again?”

“Out with a friend,” I said quickly, dumping red pepper flakes on my pepperoni slice.

“Which friend was that?”

“You don’t know him.”

I felt Mom’s eyes on me as if she were scrutinizing that particular pronoun.

“It was just some guy from the team,” I said trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “It was a dumb mistake and I regret it and I apologized. Let’s move on.”

Except I couldn’t move on and I didn’t regret it as much as I told myself I did.

“Ladies, stop giving River a hard time,” Dad said with a laugh. Whereas I had forgotten all about the season-ending win, it was still written all over his face. “Boys will be boys, right?”

“Boys will remain boys unless they’re taught to be men,” Mom said, shooting him a pointed look.

He chuckled. “Fair enough. River, you’re grounded.”

Amelia’s eyes widened. “For real?”

“No, I’m teasing your brother.”

I shot my sister a triumphant look. She stuck her tongue out at me.

“But on a serious note, tonight after dinner, River, we have to go over your college applications. You’ve been procrastinating on them long enough.”

“Yeah, okay.” I wiped my mouth on a napkin and balled it between my palms. “Hey, Dad, I was thinking. Remember the ‘74 Camaro Mr. Brewster brought into the shop the other day?”

“I do. A classic. Needed a new carburetor, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, and its grill was shot, the upholstery torn up, and it could use a paint job. But that’s all it would take to make it pretty sweet again.”

Dad grinned. “That’s all, eh?”

“I asked him about it, and he said there was no one local to do the work.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Well…the business is doing pretty well. Maybe it’s time for an expansion.”

“To restoration?”

“Yeah. Mr. Brewster was saying there’re a lot of classic cars in town, but they got to go up to San Jose or San Francisco for any body work.”

Dad sipped from his beer glass. “It’s a completely different ball of wax and a huge undertaking. We’d have to build a new garage, buy the proper tools, develop relationships with parts sellers, hire new people…”

“We can afford to do all that. And I’ll help. I’d love to work on it.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Mom said, smiling softly.

“I don’t know the first thing about car restoration.” Dad pointed a bread stick at me. “And neither do you.”

“No, but I could study up on it. After school and on weekends.” I swallowed hard. “And…this summer.”

Dad frowned. “This summer, you’re heading to college, to training camp for whichever school you choose. You won’t have time for something like that.”

Holden’s face floated across my mind with Mom’s words whispering beneath.

What about your heart?

I inhaled to try again but it caught in my throat. Was this the moment? Was tonight the night I imploded my life?

“I like the idea but it’s too much to take on,” Dad said. “Your only job is to concentrate on your college applications.”

“Dad—”

“I’m not touching the business, and that’s final. I don’t want to spend more