Page 65 of Tainted Tempos

Allegra

Mckenna! Are you with Emily and Robyn? Did you go home?

I tuckmy phone into my purse as my taxi rolls to a stop in front of Dad’s home.

“Thanks,” I mutter, sliding out of the cab and shutting the door.

Before I make it up the porch, the door swings open and Jeannie stands there, a calming smile on her face. “Mckenna.”

I climb the porch steps.

She holds the door wider. “Come on in; you must be exhausted.”

I nearly sob as I cross the threshold. “I’m sorry to barge in like this.” I rush to explain, realizing I made a mistake.

Did Jeannie move in with Dad? How did I not think to ask? Or call first?

“Don’t apologize. You’re not barging in,” Jeannie says. She gives me a sympathetic smile and opens her arms.

I fall into them, and she hugs me easily. Naturally.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” I sob.

“Well, then it’s a good thing you came home,” she replies.

I don’t know how long we stand in the hallway hugging before Jeannie pulls back.

“Your father’s away at a conference but comes home tonight. I was just popping round to water the plants and collect the mail.” She looks around the kitchen. “Why don’t you settle yourself upstairs in the guest room and I’ll put the kettle on. After some tea and soup, I bet you could do with a rest.”

My eyelids grow heavy at everything she’s promising—tea, soup, sleep.

“That sounds good.”

“Good. I’m happy you came here, even though I wish the circumstances were different.”

She offers a small smile and shrug, and I realize she means it. She really is happy to see me, to help me.

And the stranger thing? I’m happy to see her too.

Allegra

I’m glad you’re at your dad’s and getting rest. We’re all worried out of our minds. Especially Mav.

I sigh and roll over to stare at the wall.

Jeannie did exactly as she promised. She brewed me tea, fed me soup, and told me to rest.

Once she left, I messaged Allegra that I was safe at Dad’s house, showered, and slept for eternity. At some point, Dad returned home but I imagine Jeannie filled him in because he never woke me.

That was yesterday.

Today, my dad and I made awkward small talk before I crawled back into bed, too exhausted to have the conversation we’re circling around.

A knock sounds at the bedroom door, and I force myself to sit up.

“Hey, Kenny,” Dad says, entering the space. He looks strange, shadowing the doorway, as if he’s at a loss and doesn’t know how to navigate the situation before him.

We sit in the awkwardness stretching between us for several moments. Finally, Dad sighs.

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