about what Alina had accused me of. No children, no Darcy, and my gold medal might not even belong to me. Plus my body was a mass of bruises, I was sopping wet and half-frozen.
“Want me to take you somewhere?” Robin asked.
I studied him from under my lashes. “What’s the price?”
“No price for a friend.” He smiled softly. “How about your mother’s house?”
I thought of her always full coffee pot and big chenille blankets. “That sounds perfect.”
Robin opened the passenger’s side door to my SUV and I scrambled up.
“Aren’t you going to tell anyone where you’re going?” I asked.
“They won’t notice.” Robin turned the engine over, slung his arm over the back seat, and reversed the vehicle.
I didn’t say anything until we passed by the parking garage that had once been my father's office. “Everything is so different. I can’t believe how much.”
Robin cast me a sideways glance. “You sound surprised. Don’t you know how integral your life is to those around you?”
“Yes, but this is just more than I expected.” A hell of a lot more. I was starting to discover something about Olympic Gold Joey. I didn’t like her very much. What sort of person tosses away her best friend over a loser guy and blames her former coach for her drug use?
A shitty person.
Robin made a sound that could have been either agreement or indigestion. He pulled to a stop in front of the Victorian.
I reached for the door handle but paused when I realized he wasn’t doing the same. “Aren’t you coming in?”
He shook his head. “Clara is probably in there. The last thing you need right now is the two of us getting into it.” He pressed something into my hand. The hourglass. Purple grains of sand sparkled in the bright winter sunshine.
“You’re a good friend,” I said to him. “Apparently, my only friend.”
His lips twitched just a little. “No one else has ever called me a friend and meant it.”
I shrugged and pocketed the hourglass. Then, not knowing how else to escape the awkward moment, slid out of the car and slogged up the walkway to the front porch.
I turned the handle and frowned when I discovered it was locked. Weird. We never locked the house midday. Maybe Dragon had locked up on her way to school?
There was a fake rock that had a hide-a-key spot beneath the swing. I bent down to retrieve it and used it to unlock the door.
The door swung inward with an ominous groan that sounded like a horror movie special effect. “Mom?” I called out.
“Joey?” I heard her call from the conservatory. “What are you doing here?”
I toed off my wet boots and then padded on stocking feet toward the door. “You hung up on me earlier. And I’ve had a hell of a day and I just needed to come home for a bit.”
My mother pushed through the swinging door that separated the kitchen from her office. She was busy fumbling with the belt tie on her bathrobe. It brought me a modicum of relief to see the shiny gold band on the fourth finger of her left hand. At least one thing was going right in the rewritten timeline.
“Oh Joey, your face,” she breathed.
“It looks worse than it is.” I waved it off.
“This really isn’t a good time for a visit.” Mom grabbed me by the arm and began towing me toward the front door.
“What?” She was evicting me?
She made an exasperated noise and tugged more forcefully. “How about if we do lunch at the café later in the week. On me.”
“Mom? What’s going on?” Then I really looked at her. Middle of the day, bed head and wearing a robe. “Oh my god, you were having sex, weren’t you!”
“It’s not a crime,” she huffed.
I blushed a little. The thought of my parents having sex was still uncomfortable, no matter that I was supposed to be mature. “Of course it isn’t. How about I go upstairs and wait for you to finish?”
“Prudence?” A male voice called out.
I froze. That was not my father’s voice.
“Are you coming back?” The swinging door opened again and there stood Randy. The head mechanic. In his boxer shorts.
Horror filled me as I spun to face my mother. My voice shook as I asked, “How could you do this? You’re a married woman!”
She blinked. “What are you talking about?”
My whole body shook, not with cold, but with absolute fury. “What about Dad? Did you even think of him?”