“Would he trust you?”
“I think so. Based on this message.” She lifted her phone again, which she hadn’t yet slipped back into her purse. “I get the impression he regrets going so far and is testing the water to see if maybe it’s not too late to get me back.”
“After what he’s done? That dude’s got some nerve.”
“He has such a high opinion of himself that he can’t imagine being rejected. That’s why he flipped out when I broke up with him. Because he’s handsome and popular from being on TV, he gets a lot of attention. He acted as though I should feel grateful to be the woman he’d chosen.”
A muscle moved in Dallas’s cheek. “Like I said, what a prick.”
“I can see him for what he is now that it’s too late. I wish I’d seen it sooner. But this text suggests I might be able to use his conceit against him—to at least walk away from the train wreck of my professional career with some kind of settlement.”
Dallas sighed as they reached the house. “It’s so hard not to drive to LA and kick his ass.”
“I admit, part of me would love to see you do that. But I’d rather outsmart him. Then you won’t get in trouble.”
He held the door while she walked in but didn’t follow. “Then tell him you miss him, too.”
She turned to face him and took over holding the door. “That’s it? I was thinking about telling him that my life hasn’t been the same without him and seeing if maybe we could meet up.”
“No. That’s too fast. Make him work for it, or he might suspect something’s up. Besides, I hate the idea of you meeting him in person.”
“He’s never been physically abusive—”
“I don’t trust anyone who’s done what he’s done and neither should you.”
She tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ears. “True. I was just thinking I might be able to video him, for a change. Be able to show the judge, or whoever decides my case, what a jerk he really is.”
“You can record the conversation when he calls—while maintaining a safe distance.”
She blinked in surprise. “How do you know he’ll call?”
He winked at her. “Because he’s thrown out a hook, and you’re going to make him think you’re biting on it. Of course he’ll try to reel you in.”
7
Every once in a while Dallas thought he saw Jenny. He knew it couldn’t be her. His sister, older by seven years, was gone. As much as he wished otherwise, there could be no doubt of that. He was the one who’d crawled to her after their father, dripping blood from when he’d attempted to shoot himself, dropped the gun and ran from the house. Dallas had known she was dead well before the police and paramedics arrived. He’d never forget her pretty eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
That image haunted him.
And yet, in a cruel trick of his imagination, there were moments when Dallas could swear he caught glimpses of her. Other times, he thought he could hear her whispering in his ear, usually when he was just waking up.
Run, Dallas! Hide! And don’t come out until I call you!
It was as if his mind reverted to when she was alive, and he had to accept the fact, again and again, that her life had been brutally and needlessly cut short by their own father. If he had to name the most heartbreaking thing he’d ever had to endure, it would be that. He missed his mother, Dora, but what he felt for her was complicated. Love and longing, certainly, but plenty of anger, resentment and a sense of betrayal, too—for not getting away, for not protecting them as a mother should.
That wasn’t the case with Jenny, however. She’d been strong where their mother was weak, had always been there for him when he was frightened or hurt. And in the end, she’d paid the ultimate price.
He’d give anything to be able to go back and make that day unfold differently.
“Hello? Dallas? Are you listening? I’m talking here.”
Dallas jerked his gaze away from the blonde girl with the long hair and the pink ski coat, the sight of which was what had taken him back twenty-three years, and once again focused on Eli as they crossed the campus. He’d just spent the afternoon substituting for PE on the boys’ side of campus and now his brother was hitting him up to take over after-school practice for the girls’ basketball team. “What?”
“I said you’ve never played much basketball. Do you feel comfortable coaching?”
It wasn’t easy to shake off the nostalgia triggered by the sight of that girl, who, from the back, looked so much like Jenny, and who would’ve been about the same age as Dallas remembered her. “No.”
Eli’s eyes widened. “What?”
The girl went into a classroom and disappeared from view, making it easier for him to focus. “I’m going to invite them over to climb the wall. The boys who are there right now would love that.”
With a startled laugh, Eli caught his elbow and pulled him to a stop. “When were you going to tell me about your plans?”
“I don’t know. It just occurred to me that I should stick to what I do best,” he admitted. “And I promised some of the kids who were having fun with the wall at lunch that I’d be around to help them after school.”
“I’ll tape up a notice that you’ll be there from four to five, because you need to work with these girls on basketball for that long. They have a game tomorrow,” Eli pointed out.
That changed things. Eli was right; Dallas couldn’t let them go into a game unprepared. “Oh. Hmm. Okay.” He wiped a bead of sweat running down
