Page 43 of Lavender Lake
The table fell silent and suddenly, our previously good-natured conversation turned and the meal-time began to sour.
I was no longer hungry.
“Dinner was good,” I mumbled, taking my plate and rising from the table. I set it on the counter, and then fled out the back door, wondering why I was always trying to escape.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Ranch
The night sky was clear and stars were everywhere. I picked out my favorite constellations as I lit a fire in the stone circle.
I wondered who would find me. Hadley or Bowman.
The heavy clomp of boots told me Bowman had come first.
He took a seat in the camp chair next to me. He didn’t say anything as he craned his neck and peered up at the sky.
The back door opened and Hadley called out, “I’ve got a headache, so I’m going to bed.”
“And I’m going with her,” Declan added. “See you both in the morning.”
“Put the food away, yeah?” Hadley asked.
“Sure thing,” I called back. “Good night.”
“Night,” Bowman added.
A moment later, the screen door shut, leaving me and Bowman alone.
“Why’s your dad a hypocrite?” he asked finally.
“Been waiting to ask that question, huh?”
“I have several questions I want to ask. I’m just trying to figure out which ones I think you’ll answer.”
“Where were you? This afternoon, I mean. When Gideon came over,” I asked him.
He shifted his legs and stretched them out. “After you locked me out of the bathroom, I went to the barn. And then I walked around the pens for a bit.”
“And you had a good ride with Declan?” I asked.
“Yes. Why is your dad a hypocrite?”
“Dog with a bone,” I muttered.
“You started it by mentioning it.”
I sighed. “I’m a lot like my mother. She had a nomadic spirit, and it was one of the things my dad loved most about her. But as I grew older and began to show a similar inclination—it shocked him. Or angered him. Both, I guess.”
“Dads are put on this earth to protect their children,” he said quietly. “That’s their job.”
“He doesn’t let me breathe,” I blurted out. “I—he—this place. It stifles me. It cages me in and he just doesn’t get it. He never did.”
“And New York lets you, what? Fly?”
“It lets me be whoever I want to be. No one knows me there. I can be anything, anyone. I don’t have to constantly be running from my reputation or preconceived ideas about who I am.” I rubbed my head.
Talking about this was like swallowing glass. Brutal, painful, destructive.
