Page 30 of The Amendment

“We invested a lot in your dance lessons,” Ainsley said, running the tines of her fork across her plate gently. “I just want to be sure you’re positive about this decision. Is it the schedule? Or do you want to take a different style this year? What about jazz? Or tap?”

“I just don’t want to do it,” she said firmly, staring down. “Can we please just drop it?”

“Yes,” I said.

At the same time, Ainsley said, “Are you crying?”

I looked across the table at Maisy, spying the glimmer of a tear at the corner of her eye.

“Maisy, what’s wrong?” Ainsley pressed up out of her chair in an instant.

“Awkward,” Dylan said with a sigh, pushing back from the table.

“Knock it off,” I snapped.

“Talk to me,” Ainsley whispered as Riley watched intently, his expression filled with genuine concern.

Maisy shook her head. "It's nothing, I swear. I just don't want to do it anymore. Please don't make me."

Ainsley took a hesitant step back, but it was my turn to speak up. "We'd never make you do anything you don't want to, Maise. You know that." She looked at me gratefully, brushing away a tear.

Ainsley watched me and it was obvious she wanted to say more, but instead, she leaned down and kissed the top of Maisy's head. "You know you canalways come to us with anything, right? No matter how busy or stressed we seem, you're what matters to us."

"Your mother's right," I chimed in, just as my phone began to buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out, though I desperately didn't want to, and glanced at the screen.

My heart sank.

Not again.

Not right now.

"Can I go to my room?" Dylan asked. His plate had been empty for several minutes and he was already standing, not waiting for an answer.

"Of course," Ainsley said, though I could feel her eyes on me. I considered ignoring the call, but I knew that would only make Jim angry. Sweat beaded at my hairline as I thought back to the body in the garage.

The very, very dead body.

"Peter?" Ainsley called, staring at me strangely.

"I have to take this." I darted out of the room and pressed the phone to my ear. "Yeah?"

"I need another favor."

I huffed, stepping out onto the porch and walking farther into the yard. "Of course you do."

"You home?" He didn't miss a beat.

"You can't come here now. The kids are home and we're in the middle of something. Come by tonight."

"Won't take long."

"It doesn't matter. Look, Jim, you can't keep doing this to me. We agreed on one favor and now we're up to three. When does it end? I’ve done all that I can do for you. I don’t owe you anything else."

"Doesn't seem like you really have a choice, does it?" he said simply.

“What the—” Before I could argue any further, the line clicked and he was gone. "Dammit!" I threw the phone to the ground, anger radiating through me. I shook my head, trying to clear it. How was I going to get out of this—

"Peter?"

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