“I’m not . . . go already,” I demanded, motioning toward the door. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“You’ll have to face it sooner rather than later.”
“Well, I don’t have to do it right now, do I?” I began scrubbing at the scuffmark again. “I’m sure I’ll be done by the time you get home.”
“Think about it, Anna.”
I grunted and listened as he finally walked out of the house. I heard him speaking to Evan and ground my teeth together, furiously scrubbing at the mark on the floor.
Why wouldn’t it come out already?
I listened carefully for the door on his truck close, listened even harder when he pulled out of the driveway and drove off. I looked down at the scuffmark I’d been agonizing over for the majority of the day and leaned back on my heels again. I looked around at the half-cleaned floor and grabbed the sponge, once again throwing it into the bucket before I grabbed the handle and stood up. I cleaned up the rest of my bright idea, freezing when I heard footsteps on the porch. I ran up the stairs and into my room. I threw my dirty clothes off before diving into my bed in just my underwear and bra, pulling my pillow over my head and willing sleep to come.
I didn’t want to deal with anything anymore.
He was on my doorstep Sunday morning, and I made my dad answer it when he knocked. I hid like a coward at the top of the stairs, listening to their mixed voices, but not really hearing a word as I sat ready to bolt into my room if my dad let him in.
I couldn’t deal with Evan just yet. I was working myself up to Monday morning, and for the life of me, I failed to understand why he was trying so hard, unless his plans had been ruined and he had more in store. None of it made any sense, and I hated the way he seemed to be so intent on making any of this right.
The other part that was confusing was that he’d alienated all of his friends—at least, I thought he had. Maybe that was all part of the joke, too. They had to make it look as authentic as possible so that I’d actually believe all his crap to begin with.
Ugh, I was so stupid. I should’ve known better—I’d been around them my entire life. Why I thought Evan Drake would be able to change because of things that I said and did was laughable, and I should’ve known something wasn’t right. I should’ve known.
I snapped back to the present when I heard the front door close, tensing and listening carefully for an extra set of footsteps.
“Anna, he’s gone!” my dad yelled up to me.
“Really?”
“I promise you that he’s gone.”
I got up, smoothing down my shirt as I walked down the stairs, stopping when my dad stepped in front of me. He thrust a white envelope in front of my face, my name written on it in Evan’s undeniably neat handwriting.
“Throw it out,” I said, my voice low as I stared at the way he’d curled the end of the A.
“Open it.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I,” my dad said easily.
“I have no reason to—”
“You didn’t see him, Anna. I don’t think he’s slept.”
“Good.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“He’s caused me plenty of sleepless nights. He owes me a few,” I spat bitterly.
“You’re being immature.”
“I’m eighteen; I’m supposed to be.”
“You’ve never been like this before.”
“Things change. People change.”
He merely raised an eyebrow at me, and I glared at him. I hadn’t told him anything about what had happened, and I was surprised that he’d seemed to catch on. For a man who hadn’t taken notice of what was going on in my life, he sure seemed to know a lot.
He shook the envelope in my face again, and I snatched it out of his hand, stalking into the kitchen. I had it held over the trashcan, staring down at the remains of our breakfast as I fingered the edges.
“I don’t know what you feel for him, Anna,” my dad said from the doorway of the kitchen, “but it’s obviously the same thing he feels for you. Open it.”
“I can’t.” My voice cracked and I closed my eyes. “Whatever is in this will not make what he said all right.”
“It might not,” he agreed. “There are two things that can happen here: either that will explain everything or it’ll explain nothing. You’re too young for so many regrets, and if I know you like I think I do, throwing that envelope away and not knowing what may or may not be in there will follow you around and drive you crazy.”
“Dad, you don’t—”
“I know the way he looked when I opened the door. I know the way you looked when you woke up this morning. Neither of you is very excited about this new development.”
“He could be putting on an act, Dad! Don’t you get that?” I exclaimed, turning to face him and pointing at him with the envelope. “He could be pretending because he just wants to hurt me some more!”
“That’s not what I saw this morning, Anna. I saw something very close to heartbreak on his face, and if he can feel that way over losing my daughter, I have to give him some respect because he knows what he’s lost!”
“I can’t do this,” I said, walking over to him. “I have homework to do.”
“All right.” He moved out of my way.
I stomped back up the stairs and into my room, throwing the envelope down on my computer desk as if it had bitten me. I placed my hands over my throat, stared at the envelope until I couldn’t take it anymore, and turned away.
Not right now.
I waited until the last possible second to
