Page 11 of Trusting Blake
“Hmm. Spacious, but in the middle of goddamn nowhere,” Ruben remarks, rubbing his chin as he grimaces at the house, and the arrogance in his voice is like nails against a chalkboard to me. “Can’t say I’m surprised you wanted to get out of here.”
“Don’t start,” Dad warns him. But when he, too, turns to face the house, hands on his hips, he releases a sigh that’s audible from all the way over here.
Cautiously, I take a step forward. And then another. And another.
Ruben is the first to spot me approaching. “Oh, good evening, Mila!”
Dad twists around, his expression panicked now, his surprised eyes locking on mine. I’m only a few feet away from him, but it feels like a million miles. All closeness between us is gone. I can feel the distance in an almost tangible way that I can’t explain, a trust that has been broken.
“Dad. . .”
“Mila,” he says, blinking fast, caught off guard by my sudden appearance. “What are you doing out here?”
“What areyoudoing here?” I fire back, sensing heat raging through my body. “Do you think you can just show up and everything will be fine?”
Dad’s features flood with guilt and he stares fixedly at the ground. “I’m sorry, Mila,” he says in a low, quiet voice.
“Mila, you haven’t seen your dad in a month,” Ruben says. “How about you give him a break and let him actually arrive before you get all dramatic?”
I shift my glare and stare at Ruben in pure disgust. “Are you kidding me?”
Ruben sighs exasperatedly, shaking his head as if life’s too short for these kinds of things. “Everett, I told you your daughter has developed a bit of an attitude problem over the summer.”
Seriously?
Then, like a bullet straight to Dad’s chest, I say, “I’m allowed todevelopan attitude if I’ve just found out my dad’s been having an affair.”
“Quiet!” a voice hisses from the porch.
The three of us turn at once to where Sheri stands by the open front door, a robe drawn tightly around her, her usually gentle face like stone.
“All of you, inside,” she orders, gesturing to the gate. “We have company, remember? Let’s keep a semblance of dignity, shall we?”
“Ah, you must be Sheri!” Ruben exclaims, striding toward the porch. “How very nice to finally meet Everett’s sister!”
With as much disdain toward Ruben as I have, Sheri glowers at him with zero patience and holds up her hand as if to halt him in his tracks. “No introductions required, Ruben. This is not exactly a social occasion.”
Ruben falters slightly from the no-nonsense greeting. He is always the one who runs the show, and he definitely isn’t pleased at being spoken to that way by a woman who he probably classes as one of Dad’s inconsequential relatives from “the middle of nowhere.” I am cheering her on, silently. Team Sheri all the way.
I’m the first to head inside. I storm past Dad, push past Ruben, and join Sheri by the door. From this vantage point, Dad and Ruben look like a pair of lost passersby, both afraid to be the first to make a move. They exchange an uncertain glance.
“Well, Everett, I don’t know what the heck you were thinking.” Sheri sighs. “But are you coming inside, or did you decide to show up without warning at one in the morning just for the fun of it?”
“Sheri,” Dad says, and I glimpse the real hostility between them now. It has been years since they last saw one another, and in that time, more and more frustration has been building here at the Harding Estate. “Thank you for letting us in.”
“Did I have a choice?” Sheri counters, pursing her lips at him and crossing her arms in true doorman style. “It looked like those piranhas out there were about to smash your windshield.”
“Well, the rental company sure wouldn’t like that,” Ruben says sardonically, but no one laughs.
“Ruben, please shut the hell up,” Dad snaps, squeezing his eyes tight. I’ve never heard him be so openly aggressive with his manager – plus, Dad usually makes a conscious effort not to curse when I’m around. Tensions are running at an ultimate high right now.
Ruben holds up his hands in surrender. “Jesus! I’m going for a smoke,” he mutters, then stalks off into the field to light up a cigarette.
We stand, watching in silence as the flame flares in the darkness and the smell of nicotine drifts over in the still air.
Then both Sheri and I start at the sound of a voice rising behind us.
“Everett—” comes a gasp from over my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
