Things We Didn't Say by Kristina Riggle Read Free Book Online

you?”
    There was hope in her face. Love would make it okay for her, because then it wasn’t a terrible mistake, it could be welcomed instead of dreaded. I saw it all in her mouth slightly agape, her breath caught.
    “I’m very . . . we’re passionate about each other.”
    “Too bloody passionate,” interjected my dad, who’d sunk into the club chair near the fire.
    “We weren’t thinking—”
    “What else is new.”
    “Henry! That’s enough.” My mother drew herself up, her five-foot frame looking like a sliver compared to my dad’s hulking form in the chair. “Michael needs our support. And this is a grandchild! Not a problem to be discarded! I’m not happy about the way it came about myself, but what’s done is done.”
    My mother wrapped her thin arms around me. I rested my chin on top of her head.
    “Mikey. We’ll figure it out. And I think we’d better meet her, don’t you think?”
    My phone yanks me back to the present moment, alerting me to a text.
    Mallory’s here, no Dylan yet , reports Casey.
    Poor Casey, having to fend her off alone. But there’s this story, stupid as it is, and I have to get it done. Then I’ll get home. And everything will be fine.
    The words in my notebook swim in my vision. What was I thinking indeed?
    But without Mallory, there’s no Angel, no Dylan. And there was very nearly no Jewel because I’d finally packed my bags to go . . .
    “Mike.”
    When I pull myself out of my thoughts, I notice I’d been tracing my scar.
    Kate waves her hand in my direction. “Are you okay? You look pale.”
    “Just tired,” I tell her, waving her off, forcing myself to stare again at the screen.
    She lowers her voice and rolls her chair a little closer. “Is it Casey?”
    I fight to keep from rolling my eyes. In an idiot-moment over a lunchtime Reuben, I’d told Kate that Casey is a terrific girl but she didn’t seem up to the stepparenting gig. Kate had covered my hand with hers, and I let myself feel sad, and I let myself be comforted for a moment that stretched a little too long. Since then I’ve had to be vigilant about being professional, friendly, and no more.
    Yes, Kate’s gorgeous, and she’s also full of sympathy and sweet, understanding smiles. I also happen to know she’s cunning and calculated, which is one reason she’s such a goddamn good reporter.
    “I can’t talk right now,” I tell Kate, and she finally rolls back to her screen.
    I look at the computer clock. It’s now 2:00 P.M . That means no one has seen or heard from Dylan in over six hours. He’s not answering his phone or texts. This is not like him. In fact, he’s the most dependable of all of them. Though he’s been quiet lately, even by his standards. What have I missed?
    I tell myself again it’s probably nothing and buckle down to get the story done, so I can get home and make damn well sure it’s nothing.
    I’m just spell-checking the shopping story and removing all sarcastic asides when two e-mails arrive. One is from the publisher, reminding all of the four o’clock meeting. The other is from Kate.
Hey Mike,
I know you’re not just tired. You have “ex stress.” I can see it all over your face. Been there, done that. Oh, come to think of it, still doing that.
Hang in there. I was going to say it will get better but it probably won’t! Anyway, wouldn’t want you to stick your head in an oven or something. This place would be boring without you.
Want to get a drink after work? My treat.
K.
    I slide my eyes over to her. She looks sideways at me and smiles a little, one of those encouraging smiles, a silent “chin up!”
    I e-mail her back, wishing I could move to an empty desk farther away from her without the gossip mill starting to churn.
    Can’t. Potential crisis at home. Report back to me about 4 o’clock meeting, though. I have to leave.
    I file the story and go hover by Aaron to get his attention. He’s on the phone with someone combative, based on his repetition