Page 103 of Snowed In
“Yes, but Itried, and—”
“Okay,” I interrupt. “I’ll do it.” And he looks so relieved that I pat him on the back. “It’s going to be fine.”
“I can’t believe she’s scared of the woods,” he mutters, and rests his head against the table as I finish my breakfast.
I give Megan a call soon after, and though she’s initially confused, she getsveryexcited about the mention of the hot tub and quickly agrees to the change of plans. We arrange to meet up later that morning, and I pack a change of clothes before heading down to the back room to work. It has the best Wi-Fi in the house and has become my unofficial office since Hannah’s taken up the living room with her studying.
It’s stuffy, though, or maybe it’s just my head, and I crack open the window as I sit down, the chill keeping me alert as I check in with work. It’s the longest I haven’t been in the office since I started, and while I’m usually not bad at separating work from home life, it’s a busy season, and there are only two junior people doing holiday cover.
It’s not that I don’t trust them, but I do feel responsible for them and sure enough, no sooner do I send a message telling them I’m around for the next while do I start getting forwarded somedidn’t want to bother you butemails that make the time fly by. It’s another two hours before I get on top of things, and I’m wrapping up to go get Megan when heavy boots stomp down the hall.
“Working away, are you?”
My dad stops in the doorway, shaking off his coat.
“Still snowing?”
“It’s light,” he says. “But wanted to get the cows sorted just in case.”
“Need some help?”
“It’s all done,” he says to my relief. He glances at my laptop, his expression unreadable. “Thought you were on your holidays.”
“I’m just checking in.”
“They’re not working you too hard, are they?”
“Well, I’m the boss, so…no. I like my job,” I add.
“There’s a first.”
Deep breaths, Christian. Deep, calming breaths.
“It’s freezing in here,” Dad adds, and I log off as he comes over to shut the window. He pauses halfway across the room, though, his eyes shooting to me suspiciously.
I tense, knowing instantly where his mind went. “I’m not smoking. I haven’t had a cigarette in months.”
“You shouldn’t have started in the first place.”
Jesus. I snap my laptop shut.
He doesn’t like that either. “Where are you going?”
“To get Megan.”
“You don’t need to go just because I’m—”
“I’m not,” I interrupt. “I’m not doing anything because of you. I told her I’d meet her in a few minutes, so that’s what I’m going to do.” And then, stupidly: “Wouldn’t want to mess her around.”
The words are a mutter, but he catches them anyway, his face falling as I stand and start gathering my things.
“Christian—”
“I’m going to be late.”
“Now, hold on a second,” he says, his face going pink as he rubs at his forehead.
“I don’t have time for a talk.”
