Page 65 of The Last Thing You Said

“You don’t know that it won’t happen with Ben. Miracles happen every day. You have to believe it in your heart.”

“I don’t believe in miracles.” Not since that day on the beach when I prayed for a miracle that didn’t come.

“Aw, honey.” She stands and brushes crumbs off her shirt. “Don’t let this bring you down. Come on, let’s go home and face that music.”

“Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Hannah.”

“You know I got you, Lucille.” She squeezes my hand and we walk back to our campsite.

Dustin stops the truck at the side of the road, doesn’t even bother to pull into the driveway. Simon gets out and unloads our bags from the back. He hands me my duffel but doesn’t let go, not right away, and his hand grazes mine.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes locked on mine, “it’s okay, Luce. Everything is going to be okay.”

I pinch my lips together in a grim smile. “I hope so.”

We walk up to the driveway. He leans in, kisses me on the cheek, and says hello to my dad, who is waiting on the front porch.

“Mr. Meadows,” he says, and nods. Like we hadn’t just sneaked off to a rodeo without his permission and had sex in a tent.

Dad ignores Simon and pulls me into a tight, quick hug, then nearly pushes me away. “Lucy, how could you? How could you do this?”

I don’t know how to answer that. I look back at Simon, who mouths, “Call me later,” and disappears down the other side of the driveway.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Dad. There’s nothing else. There’s no reasonable excuse, no way to explain it away. I follow Dad into the house.

Mom sits at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of her that looks untouched.

She’s not at the restaurant. She’s here, waiting for me, her daughter, to come home. I wonder who’s covering my shift.

“Mom.” I take a tentative step forward. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have worried you like that.”

The look of sadness and concern in her eyes when she looks up from her cup of coffee stops me cold.

“What has gotten into you, Lucy?” she asks, her voice cracking. “You’ve never acted this way before. You’ve never disobeyed us. Your dad tells you that you can’t go to South Dakota, and the next thing we know, you’re sneaking off in the middle of the night.”

When she pauses, Dad starts in. “You should not have gone to that rodeo. We were worried sick. So it should be no surprise that you’re grounded for the rest of the summer. You can go to work at the resort and the diner and that’s it. And you will not be allowed to see any of your friends.”

“No,” I cry. “You have to let me see Hannah. Please—”

Mom cuts me off. “You made your choice, Lucy, and now you’ve got to live with the consequences. End of discussion.”

I turn and run up the stairs, away from my parents.

I shower and crawl into bed, but I don’t fall asleep for a long time. I send Hannah a text to make sure everything’s all right and her text back is that she’s tired, she’s worried about me, she’ll talk to me tomorrow.

The murmurs of my mom and dad carry upstairs through the vents. Their anger and disappointment tear at me. I’m sorry that I went to South Dakota and I’m not sorry.

My mother’s words echo in my mind.

You made your choice, and now you’ve got to live with the consequences.

35 · Ben

A couple of days after Lucy gets back from the rodeo, Tami takes Emily to Brainerd for a doctor’s appointment, so Lucy’s shift is all resort work. I heard from Guthrie who heard from Hannah that she’s grounded, only allowed to go to work. That she can’t even see Hannah. Or Simon.

There’s a small part of me that’s happy about it, the part about Simon, at least.

And there’s another part of me, a bigger one, that’s pissed at her and Hannah for going to that rodeo in the first place. But why should I be pissed about it? What right do I have?