Page 159 of The Way the Heart Breaks: Jade’s Story

“Four little eyes are on you; act accordingly.”

“You know?” I ask as we head to the opposite end.

He nods slightly.

Normally I'd sit beside Tessa; after I passed Aunt Maggie, she'd pull me in for a hug. We’d whisper about something before church started. Instead, I sit next to Kendall, and pop a kiss on the top of her head and say, “Morning” to them all.

I can feel Maggie looking at me. I don't want to pretend I'm not angry with her, and right now, I'm too hurt to decide if it’s more than angry.

I glance toward the doors when the service starts, expecting the rest of them to show up late, but nobody does.

“Tessa’s sick. Alex brought us here to meet Mom, and then he had to go get crackers and Ginger Ale.” Kendall explains.

“That’s really nice of him.” I smile before standing to sing the opening hymn.

Tessa probably isn't feeling well after last night. That makes sense. She drank enough to make herself sick, and if she's sleeping through a hangover, maybe that's better than having to deal with everybody this morning.

Still, I can't stop wondering where she is.

Church gives me plenty of time to think about everything I don't want to think about. Maggie. Tessa. Lucas. Alex. Tommy. Mostly Tommy.

I give Kendall, Jake, and with four little eyes looking at me, I decide to give Aunt Maggie a quick hug, but pull away as she starts to say something. “Love you guys, see you tonight?”

“We’re staying with Mom.” Kendall shrugs.

“Well then I’ll probably see you every other night this week.” I laugh.

Dad winks and points at the two of them. “Behave.”

Outside, I try to give Dad the keys, but he ignores me and gets in the passenger seat.

I shake my head and take the time as I round the truck to talk myself out of being pissy about driving. He didn’t lecture me about last night; he made a simple request, and he doesn’t ask much out of me, so I climb into the driver's seat, stick the key in the ignition, starting the truck before pulling out of the church parking lot. I keep both hands on the wheel as we head toward town, and for the first few minutes, neither of us says anything.

The roads are always quiet on Sunday mornings, just the occasional car passing in the other direction. I follow the curve past the fields, then slow down behind an old pickup before finally getting around it.

“So,” Dad says.

I glance at him. “So?”

“How was your date?”

I breathe out a laugh and keep my eyes on the road. “It was awkward.”

“Bad awkward?”

“Sometimes?” I turn onto the road toward the diner, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Okay. A lot of times.”

Dad laughs under his breath. “But not all the time?”

I shake my head. “No. Not all the time.”

He nods like he's filing that away. “He's a good kid.”

“You barely know him.” I laugh.

“I know my daughter, and she wouldn’t be dating someone who wasn’t.”

“You’re not wrong,” I grin.