Page 37 of Even if You Fall

Gray burst into laughter, all without me ever saying a word. “Understood, Thatch,” he said after catching his breath. “I’ll back off.”

I didn’t bother telling him it wasn’t necessary. I didn’t say anything at all as I once again found myself wondering why Rush had been watching Chloe so closely this afternoon.

“Thatch.”

Gray’s somber tone had my attention snapping back to him a few minutes later, my head tipping up in question when his gaze finally left the laptop.

With a weighted sigh that had dread crawling through my veins, he turned the laptop around so it was facing me. “Now we know why the wife kept her last name.”

A mumbled curse left me as I hurriedly read through the information Gray pulled up. Within seconds, I had a call going through to Briggs as the clashing storm of emotions I’d been trapped in for days surged to life.

“Would you quit,” my mom playfully reprimanded as Dad tried sneaking another bite of dinner, straight from the pot on the stove. Swatting at him with her free hand, she lifted the wooden spoon from the pot and silently threatened him with it, dripping homemade marinara sauce and all.

“I’m going,” he said placatingly, then stealthily dipped a torn piece of garlic bread into the sauce and backed away before she could hit him again.

With an irritated sigh that hinted at how much she adored him, she gave a roll of her eyes and focused on me again. “I just don’t understand why you left teaching in the first place.”

I tried not to show how still I went at the abrupt change in subject from her recounting her week—lunch with the girls and, oh, did I tell you about the deal I got on a chuck roast?—to this. A conversation that could turn very dangerous, very fast.

“You didn’t tell me about the deal,” I told her instead, trying to bring the conversation back to safer territory.

Her head listed to the side. “What deal?”

“That you got on the chuck roast.”

She stared blankly at me as if she truly had no memory of something she’d just been talking about before my dad had swooped in and started trying to eat straight out of the pot. But I knew she hadn’t really forgotten. She was just on a path I couldn’t let her stay on. “But you always wanted to be a teacher, Chloe.”

“Mom, we’ve been over this,” I began with a soft laugh that in no way revealed my worry for why she was trying to broach this topic again. “I didn’t love it anymore.”

“Yeah, honey, we’ve been over this,” my dad said, sarcastically coming to my defense around a mouthful of something or other—if I had to bet from Mom’s horrified reaction when she glanced his way, it was dessert. Mom’s famous triple chocolate cake.

Not that I’d seen it yet or even had to look, I just knew.

Every Thursday, we had Mom’s triple chocolate cake and spaghetti and meatballs. Both homemade and secret recipes she swore she was taking to her grave. Not that I minded. They were insanely delicious, but there was only so much chocolate cake and spaghetti and meatballs a person could have before they never wanted to see them again.

But, you know, it was how my parents had learned to cope...by turning into a real-life, Stepford-style simulation. One that did everything on a strict routine and never, ever faltered. So, I’d eat the food with a smile on Thursday nights, take the leftovers Mom always packaged up for me, and dump them as soon as I got home.

“If our little bookworm needed a change of pace, we need to encourage that,” my dad continued, this time without the mouthful of food. “Besides, she said she’s enjoying this new job. Right, Chlo?”

“Right,” I said with a determined nod, though I wasn’t exactly sure of that.

The first week had been close to miserable between struggling to figure out what I was actually supposed to do at Shadow Industries and obsessing over a man who made it clear he loathed me. And after the absolute nightmare that was Saturday, I’d returned on Monday, prepared for things to be awkward between Hudson and me, and for Adam’s hatred to burn even deeper.

However, Hudson was still as flirtatious as ever—as if he truly couldn’t help himself—and Adam’s silence over the past four days left me more anxious than his cruel words had the week before.

As if I hadn’t bared my shamed soul to Hudson just days before, he’d slipped up to my desk on Monday, easily passing off my cell phone to me with a wink as he’d started asking about myDoctor Who/Star Warscrossover shirt and what I was doing after work.

Adam had silently studied me when he’d come through minutes after, the anger in his conflicted eyes all but gone and confusing me all the more. I wasn’t sure if I’d expected him to start accusing me again or if I’d expected a forced apology, but I hadn’t expected the silent, contemplative study that had my heart racing and my body anxiously waiting for another glimpse of him.

But every morning so far this week, he’d simply walked in and studied me. Every evening, he’d left with a mumbled,“Night, Bubbles.”

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Again...I was painfully aware by this point that I had terrible taste in men, and I needed to get over my current fascination with my new, overly tattooed, distractingly well-built coworker. But these days were slowly driving me crazy as I vainly hoped forsomethingfrom Adam Thatcher.

“Right,” I repeated to my parents again, shaking off thoughts of these two weeks at my new job, and glancing between them with that smile I’d perfectedbecauseof them. “I mean, honestly, it’s perfect. I’m working for Lainey’s fiancé, which is...”—I thought for only a second on what all to say because there was no way I could tell them Lainey’s fiancé could makehellosound terrifying—“it’s nice to work for someone I know and can trust, and the other employees all seem really great. Plus, Asher and I went over my income and benefits earlier this week, and it’s more than I ever could’ve dreamed of as a teacher.”

“See?” Dad said, once again coming to my aid, once again around a mouthful of food. Not that I blamed him. In preparation of this meal, he never ate on Thursdays, so he was always starving by dinnertime.

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