“'They' who?” Dad's eyes narrowed. “Who's got the kind of money it'd take to pay you what you need? You said he. Why can't his wife or kids take care of him?”
“He's not married,” I answered calmly, ignoring the way my heart gave a little lurch at the thought of X being married. “And he doesn't have kids.” At least, I didn't think he did. None had come to see him. “He used to be a soldier.”
“Then he really can't afford you,” Dad said.
“There's a trust.” No way was I going to try to explain the whole priest part of the equation. My family hadn't gone to church much, but I knew that, now, Dad had no use at all for religion. Bringing that up would guarantee we'd never get to the real discussion. “Money's not an issue.”
“I don't understand.” Mom's expression had shifted and I knew she finally realized I wouldn't have called them over just to tell them I was switching jobs. “Does Tanner not want you to take the job?”
Dad muttered a few choice words expressing his opinion about my now ex-boyfriend. He'd never been a fan.
“Tanner and I broke up.” I held up a hand before Mom could say anything. “And, yes, I'm okay. It was mutual. We realized we weren't going in the same direction anymore.”
“And this new job, it's the direction you're going?” Mom asked.
“I know what you're thinking,” I said. “And the answer's no. I'm not running away from him. The two of us ended on good terms.”
The look she gave me clearly said she didn't believe me. “What aren't you telling me?” She glanced at Dad. “Us, I mean.”
No more tap-dancing around it. “It's in Philadelphia.”
Silence for nearly a full minute.
“Pennsylvania?” Dad leaned forward.
I was impressed I'd managed to distract him from the beer. “Yes. That's where the job is.”
Mom was already shaking her head. “You can't leave. You especially can't move to Pennsylvania!”
“I'm taking vacation time now.” I hurried on. “Going out for a couple weeks to see if it's a good fit. If it is, I'll accept. If not, I'll come back.”
“So you just plan to walk away from your responsibilities?” Dad asked.
He was one to talk. “I'm taking care of my responsibilities,” I said instead. “I've spoken with the hospital, made arrangements there.”
“And what about your apartment? Your car? Your friends?” he pressed. “You just expect us to take care of all of it?”
I wanted to tell him that he owed me that much, considering how many times I'd cleaned up after him, but years of playing this game had taught me self-control. “I'd appreciate some help selling the car, but I'm paid up with my rent through the end of next month. I'll come back for the rest of my things before then if I decide to take the job.”
“Why are you doing this?” Mom asked. Her eyes welled up with the tears I'd known were coming. “How could you leave us? We need you.”
I sighed.
This was going to be a fun night.
Chapter Eight
Nori
By the time my parents left my apartment last night, I was grateful Father O'Toole had wanted me to come out immediately. I knew if I stuck around to wait to sell my car, or finish out my lease, or do any of the other things my parents tried to convince me to do, they'd manage to guilt me into staying. Well, Mom would use guilt. Dad would just make me feel like I was being foolish, moving across the country when I had a perfectly adequate job here.
When I boarded the plane Friday morning, the sense of relief that went through me was more than the anxiety at what I was doing. No matter what they said, I knew I needed to do this, even if it was only for a couple weeks. Sometimes they acted like what happened to our family only happened to them, forgetting that I'd been hurt just as badly. They needed time by themselves to realize that they had to be adults and deal with things on their own, that they couldn't always count on me to be the grown-up for them.
The relief, however, didn't mean my nerves weren't stretched to the limit. I spent the last hour of the plane ride going over all of the possible ways this could go wrong. Not the least of which was that things here would end badly, and I'd have to slink back home, only to find that I had nothing back there either. I'd worked hard to get where I'd been back home, and my dad had been right in thinking that it was foolish to give it up on a long-shot. What I was doing might've been foolish, but I was equally as certain that it was necessary.
As I walked off the plane, I was seriously considering heading straight to the ticket counter to ask if my open-ended return ticket could be moved to today. Then I saw them. A handful of soldiers ahead of me, their uniforms telling me they were Air Force. The branch of service didn't matter. These were men and women who served the country. Like my brother had. Like X.