Page 19 of Their Little Snow Angel
I grin at his joke, then reach over to pick up my phone.
I stare at the screen in horror.
It’s my dad calling.
10
Violet
I scoot out of Brody’s lap and rush to the other side of the room before answering my dad’s call. Like a few yards of distance will help me pretend I didn’t just enjoy the most erotic moment of my life with his best friends.
I can’t tell him I’m here with Heath and Brody. But I hate lying—it makes me incredibly uncomfortable. He’ll know, he’ll hear it in my voice. Or worse, I’ll get caught later.
But I can’t tell him the truth.
I swipe to answer and force myself to smile. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Vi. Merry Christmas Eve.”
“Merry Christmas Eve, Dad.” I hope the sentiment doesn’t sound strained. I’m terrible at moderating my tone of voice. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, not much. I wanted to call my little girl in case things get too hectic tomorrow.”
“What’s happening tomorrow? Oh, right—Christmas.” I force a laugh, feeling awkward and fake.
He chuckles. “What are you up to?”
“Just…hanging out at home with Mikayla. Nothing major. We’ll make cookies later. How are you and Retta? How’s Florida?”
“It’s not what I expected.” He sounds a little…sad?
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. You don’t need to worry.”
“Okay.” Except I am worried—not about him, because he’ll tell me if I should worry—but about him finding out about me having sex with Brody and Heath. The longer we talk, the more risk I’m in of letting something slip.
He clears his throat. “Hey, I wanted to let you know, a couple friends of mine will be using the cabin. In case you and Mikayla were thinking of going up there. I meant to tell you sooner.”
“The more the merrier, though, right?” I say, just a random throwaway line—I thought—until Brody snorts and covers his mouth to keep from laughing.
“Not in this case.” His voice is harsh. “It’s Brody and Heath.”
“Wait—why? What’s wrong with Brody and Heath?”
“You should stay away from them, Violet.” Dad’s voice is soft, but firm. “They’re too old for you, and they’re dangerous. I saw how you watched them at the Fourth of July barbecue. But they’re never serious about anything or anyone. I don’t want your heart broken.”
I carefully avoid looking at the guys. Can they hear what my dad is saying? I don’t think so, but I angle myself away from them, trying to hide.
“Who’s saying anything about breaking hearts?” I force myself to focus on the conversation, and not on the panicked, too-fast thrum of my pulse. “I’m just hanging out with Mikayla, that’s all.”
“You’re right. Sorry for going papa bear on you.” He pauses. “Merry Christmas, Vi.”
“Merry Christmas, Dad.”
I just lied to my father. I feel awful, but Heath and Brody are putting on sweatpants, getting me dressed in comfy clothes, and pulling out some board games. There isn’t time to feel guilty about lying to Dad.
But why does he think they’d break my heart? He said they’re dangerous. Does he know something else about them?
