she’d struggled to connect with in the five years since he’d married Rhoda.
She remembered the way Uncle Travis had pulled her aside, unprompted, at Dad’s wedding. “You might not be crazy about sharing your daddy with someone else,” he’d said. “But a man needs taking care of, and Trenton’s been alone a long time.”
Eureka had been twelve. She hadn’t understood what Travis meant. She was always with her dad, so how could he be alone? She wasn’t even conscious of not wanting him to marry Rhoda that day. She was conscious of it now.
“Hey, Dad.”
His dark blue eyes shot open and Eureka registered the fear in them when he startled, as if he’d been released from the same nightmare she’d been having for the past four months. But they didn’t speak about those things.
“I think I fell asleep,” he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He reached for the bowl of popcorn, handed it to her as if it were a greeting, as if it were a hug.
“I noticed,” she said, tossing a handful into her mouth. Most days Dad worked ten-hour shifts at the restaurant, starting at six in the morning.
“You called earlier,” he said. “Sorry I missed you. I tried you soon as I got off work.” He blinked. “What happened to your face?”
“It’s nothing. Just a scratch.” Eureka avoided his eyes and crossed the den to dig her phone from her bag. She had two missed calls from Dad, one from Brooks, and five from Rhoda.
She was as tired as if she had run the race this afternoon. The last thing she wanted to do was relive today’s accident for Dad. He’d always been protective, but since Diana’s death, he’d crossed the line into overly.
To call Dad’s attention to the fact that there were people out there who drove like Ander might cause him to permanently revoke her use of any car. She knew she had to broach the subject, but she had to handle it just right.
Dad followed her into the foyer. He stood a few feet away and shuffled William’s deck of cards, leaning against one of the columns that held up the faux-frescoed ceiling neither one of them could stand.
His name was Trenton Michel Boudreaux the Third. He had a defining slimness that he’d passed on to all three of his kids. He was tall, with wiry, dark blond hair and a smile that could charm a copperhead. You’d have to be blind not to notice how women flirted with him. Maybe Dad was trying to be blind to it—he always closed his eyes when he laughed off their advances.
“Track meet rained out?”
Eureka nodded.
“I know you were looking forward to it. I’m sorry.”
Eureka rolled her eyes, because ever since Dad had married Rhoda he knew basically nothing about her. “Looking forward to it” was not a phrase Eureka would use about anything anymore. He’d never understand why she had to quit the team.
“How was your”—Dad glanced over his shoulder at the twins, who were absorbed in Bob Barker’s description of the obsolete motor boat his contestant might win—“your … appointment today?”
Eureka thought about the crap she’d sat through in Dr. Landry’s office, including Dad’s
But Eureka also understood: Rhoda was the opposite of Diana. She was stable, grounded, not going anywhere. Diana had loved him but not needed him. Rhoda needed him so much maybe it became a kind of love. Dad seemed lighter with Rhoda than he had without her. Eureka wondered if he ever noticed it had cost him his daughter’s trust.
“Tell me the truth,” Dad said.
“Why? It’s not like complaining to you will get me out of going. Not in this Rhodeo.”
“Was it that bad?”
“Suddenly you care?” she snapped.
“Baby, of course I care.” He reached out but she jerked away.
“Baby
He handed her the cards. It was a stress killer, and he knew she could make them sail like birds between her hands. The deck was flexible from years of use and warm from his shuffling. Without her realizing, cards began to whir through Eureka’s fingers.
“Your face.” Dad studied the abrasions on her cheekbones.
“It’s nothing.”
He touched her cheek.
She calmed the flying cards. “I got in an accident on the way back to school.”
“Eureka.” Dad’s voice rose and he folded her into his arms. He didn’t seem angry. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” He was squeezing too tight. “It wasn’t my fault. This boy ran into me at a stop sign. That’s why I called earlier, but I took care of it. Magda’s at Sweet Pea’s. It’s okay.”
“You got this guy’s insurance?”
Until that moment, Eureka had been proud of herself for handling the car without Dad’s lifting a finger to help. She swallowed. “Not exactly.”
“Eureka.”
“I tried. He didn’t have any. He said he’d take care of it, though.”
Watching Dad’s face tense in disappointment, Eureka realized how stupid she’d been. She didn’t even know how to get in touch with Ander, had no idea what his last name was or whether he’d given her his real first name. There was no way he was going to take care of her car.
Dad ground his teeth the way he did when he was trying to control his temper. “Who was this boy?”
“He said his name was Ander.” She set the cards down on the entry bench and tried to retreat up the stairs. Her college applications were waiting on her desk. Even though Eureka had decided she wanted to take next year off, Rhoda insisted she apply to UL, where she could get financial aid as a faculty family member. Brooks had also filled out most of an online application to Tulane—his dream school—in Eureka’s name. All Eureka had to do was sign the printed-out last page, which had been glaring at her for weeks. She couldn’t face college. She could barely face her own reflection in the mirror.
Before she climbed the first step, Dad caught her arm. “Ander who?”
“He goes to Manor.”
Dad seemed to blink a bad thought away. “What matters most is you’re okay.”
Eureka shrugged. He didn’t get it. Today’s accident hadn’t made her any more or less okay than she’d been the day before. She hated that talking to him felt like lying. She used to tell him everything.
“Don’t worry, Cuttlefish.” The old nickname sounded forced coming from Dad’s lips. Sugar had made it up when Eureka was a baby, but Dad hadn’t called her that in a decade. No one called her Cuttlefish anymore, except for Brooks.
The doorbell chimed. A tall figure appeared through the frosted glass door.
“I’ll call the insurance company,” Dad said. “You answer the door.”
Eureka sighed and unlocked the front door, rattling the knob to get it open. She glanced up at the tall boy on the porch.
“Hey, Cuttlefish.”
Noah Brooks—known to everyone outside his family simply as Brooks—had been weaned of his most extreme bayou accent when he started ninth grade in Lafayette. But when he called Eureka by her nickname, it still came out sounding just the way Sugar used to say it: soft and rushed and breezy.
“Hey, Powder Keg,” she responded automatically, using the boyhood nickname Brooks had earned for the tantrum he’d thrown at his third birthday party. Diana used to say that Eureka and Brooks had been friends since the womb. Brooks’s parents lived next door to Diana’s parents, and when Eureka’s mom was young and newly pregnant, she’d spent a few evenings sitting on log ends on the veranda playing gin with Brooks’s mom, Aileen, who was two months further along.
