Page 66 of A Slice of Love

I stare up at him, tears threatening to fall. “Why’d you leave me for the game back then? Why did you leave me, Jonas?”

I don’t know where the words come from, but they’re hanging between us now and I can’t take them back.

He stares down at me with hurt in his eyes, like I just sucker-punched him, and I guess I did with my words.

Then his eyes flit to just about my left shoulder, and there’s a sneer on his face I haven’t seen before.

“Well, isn’t this just perfect timing,” Jonas spits.

I glance back to see who he’s looking at, surprised to see my mother and father standing there.

They look so out of place at the county fair, my father in pressed dress pants and a button-up shirt, my mother wearing a pencil skirt and a dressy blouse.

“W-What are you guys doing here? I thought you were having dinner tonight.”

“Well, dear,” my mother starts, lips pursed in displeasure. “When we canceled, your father decided we deserved a night out for a change and took me to eat at the steakhouse across the street. We weren’t quite ready to head home yet and wandered over here for some funnel cake.” She glances to Jonas dismissively. “Is this the reason you couldn’t make dinner with your ailing father?”

My gut fills with guilt.

“I, uh, I had a date.”

“A date?” Jonas asks.

“Is this not a date?” I ask him.

“It is. I just didn’t know ifyouthought it was a date. We didn’t make it official or anything, but it’s a date to me.”

I grin. “It’s a date to me too.” I turn back to my parents. “Mother, Father, this is Jonas.”

“We are well aware of who he is,” my mother says in a tone I’ve never heard from her before.

It’s clear shedoes notlike my choice in date, and I must admit I’m shocked.

While Jonas was the quarterback of our football team, he didn’t walk around like he was king, thinking he could get away with anything he wanted. He was respectful and kept up with his schoolwork. To my knowledge, he was never in the principal’s office, so why my mother doesn’t like him—especially since he brought nothing but glory to our old high school—I’m not sure.

“I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter.”

My smile slips at the disdain I hear in my father’s voice.

What the…

“How do you two know Jonas? What am I missing here?”

“I told you,” Jonas says quietly. “Ask your father.”

Ask your father.

His words from the night we drank ourselves dumb run through my mind.

I didn’t believe him then, but I’m starting to now.

The two men shoot fire at one another with their eyes, and there is something between them I’ve been missing for years.

“What am I missing?” I ask again, this time directing my question solely at my father.

“Don’t play dumb, Francis. You know how we know this…this…boy.” My mother’s voice drips with contempt.

“Give it up, Frank—they know.”

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