Page 93 of Stealing for Keeps
He mouths, “Sorry” and then hurries out of the room. Mom turns her attention to Torrance, who has her phone out like always.
“Ahem.” Mom holds out her hand.
“But, Mom, I’m making plans for homecoming with Kaylie.”
“I told you we can’t make that work right now.” Mom sounds tired, on the verge of exasperated.
“But her mom said it was fine. I can stay with them.”
“I’m sorry, the answer is no.” Mom beckons with her fingers. “Give it. You know the rules.” Then her stare moves to me. “Are you texting under the table as well? If so, give me yours too.”
“I left mine upstairs,” I say, holding up both hands where she can see them.
Torrance glares at me like I’ve betrayed her.
“What?” I ask her.
“You never have my back.” Torrance sets her phone in Mom’s palm with a huff. “I hate this family.”
Mom’s lips purse and twist. “You don’t mean that.”
“No. I do.” My sister’s voice rises, and her green eyes, several shades darker than mine, light up with anger. She stands and pushes her chair back. “I hate this family and this town. I wish you’d just let me go live with Kaylie or someone who really wants me.”
She’s gone with a huff, storming up the stairs and then slamming her bedroom door so hard the house shakes.
“Should I go talk to her?” I ask. It is my fault we’re all here, and while I doubt she’s going to want to have a real conversation, maybe she just needs to yell at me for a while to feel better.
“No. She just needs to cool down for a bit.”
Angry music starts blaring.
“What’d I miss?” Dad asks as he comes back into the room. He glances to the empty chair next to me and then in the direction of the music. “Where’d Torrance go?”
“Her room.” Mom sighs.
Dad doesn’t press for more information. He slides back into his seat and reaches for his fork.
“Who was on the phone?” Mom asks him.
“My client finally got the funding approved for the site upgrade.”
“Does that mean you have to leave?”
He nods, mouth pulling into a firm line. “Monday morning.”
My head snaps up. “Wait. You’re leaving Monday? When will you be back?”
He takes too long to answer, and I know. I just fucking know.
“You’re not going to make my game on Thursday, are you?”
“I’m sorry, Austin.”
I don’t trust myself not to say something I might regret, so I get to my feet and take my dishes to the sink.
“Son, if there were any way—”
“No, I get it.” I grab my keys from the counter.
