Page 109 of Close Your Eyes and Count to 10

His mom was gone. Alex was gone. Hector was practically useless away from a computer screen. Tavo, Maverick could tell, had grown to hate him a little because Tavo was in love with Angeline.

All he had was Angeline, and in this moment, all she had was him.

It was time for him to be the man she wanted him to be.

He went live and started running toward the sound.

43

VIOLET

The night after she realized her father wasn’t coming back, she’d torn up her room looking for the note she was sure he would have left her. When he went on trips, he always hid sticky notes in places she would find them. Inside the book she was reading, on the package of cookies she favored, in a shoe, between her pillows. They’d just say silly things likeI’m thinking about you right now. OrGive your mom a hug from me. OrI love you so much. OrYou’re my special girl. Or it would be something funny that they had laughed about recently, likeI’m off to goat yoga!

She never knew how he did it. How he knew where to hide the notes, how he did it without her knowing, since he often worked late, and she and Blake were usually sleeping when he came in at night.

Finally, she realized that the notes, though they were signedDad xoxo, were from her mom. That she hid them for Violet and Blake after they went to school. It was Mom who knew where to hide them and what each of them most wanted to hear from their father.

When he went away for good, there were no sticky notes, just those she had saved, pressed inside her journal. He had left them without a word, as he always had. But this time, Adele hadn’t thought, had the energy, or wanted to cover for him. Shecouldn’tcover for him.

Violet remembered the feeling of shame more acutely than any other feeling she had when her father left. She remembered walking into the school the week after and feeling like everyone turned away from her. Like everyone could look at her and see that she wasn’t enough to keep her father with them.

One by one, they lost their friends. Had to sell their house and move in with her grandparents for a time. Eventually, Violet and Blake had to leave the private school her mother could no longer afford, even though she worked there now, thanks to the job her best friend had gotten for her. There was anger, too. Sadness. Grief. All feelings she had learned to identify with Dr. S.’s help.

But mostly there was shame that her father was a bad man who had hurt people, and she was his daughter, so she must be bad in some ways, too. Otherwise, why would everybody hate them because of what her father had done?

“Holy shit,” whispered Coral behind her, gripping her arm. “O.M.G.”

Now the feeling that came up as Violet saw her father for the first time in years was rage. It was a hard knot at the base of her throat, a clench in her stomach.

“Violet,” said Blake, moving in front of her, “don’t lose it.”

“What are youdoing here?” The words felt like acid in her throat. The back of her neck and the palms of her hands tingled; her whole body quaked. If it wasn’t for Coral’s hand on her shoulder she might have fallen over. “I’m calling the police.”

He looked so strange, haunted around the eyes. There were deep lines etched in his face. In her dreams, he was always smiling, color high in his cheeks. The man before her looked hollowed-out.He lifted a palm, bowed his head. “It’s okay. You can do that. But let’s talk first.”

She remembered that about him, how calm he always was. How her mom would get angry, and how even Violet was prone to door-slamming and fits of temper. But her dad and Blake were always chill, easy, accepting of the circumstances whatever they were.

“First,” said the faded version of her father, “let’s make sure your mom is okay.”

“What do you meanmake sure she’s okay?”

“There’s a storm,” said Blake, brow furrowed, cheeks flushed. “Her phone is dead. And there’s some kind of mess happening on the island.”

She’d been so caught up in Blake’s drama, that she hadn’t even checked in on her mom since the morning. But Adele, she knew, was tough, ready for anything. And this was just a silly game—less challenging than the Tough Be-atch competitions she participated in.

Blake worried about her, but Violet didn’t as much. Her mom was the strongest person she knew. The steadiest. Not like her father. Even when Violet was small, even before her father left, she had the sense of him as ghostlike, always almost slipping away, almost not quite there—staring at his phone, or lost in thought, like whatever was going on elsewhere was just slightly more important than what was going on right in front of him. Adele was rock-solid, always present.

“What’sactuallyhappening?” she asked Blake.

She found herself staring at her father. He seemed like a stranger, not the person who lived in her memories or her dreams. Mostly, he just looked worn-down, like someone you’d see on the street and feel sorry for. The moment was wobbly and strange. How could she process all of this? She couldn’t. A kind of mental fog was setting in.

Blake motioned for her to follow him farther into the house, and she did so hand in hand with Coral.

“This is crazy, V,” Coral whispered urgently. “We need to call the police. Your dad is like a total fugitive from justice.”

That was true. But he was still her father. A man who’d taken on mythic proportions since he left. He was villain, mystery, and heartbreak wrapped all into one. Violet had no idea what she should do, what she wanted to do.

On a table in the sun-washed kitchen were several large computer monitors, each one streaming a different site.

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