Found and Lost Read Free

responsibility—home, his wife, his daughter. Noble or not, his first instincts were right. He should leave saving people to Marcus. Let it go. Then again …
    He’d hand it to God. If Marcus called, then maybe Clay was supposed to join him.

2
    Violet had spent the eleven-minute bicycle ride to the Hansen house rehearsing how to bring up The Topic. Then she’d stepped into Khloe’s bedroom, plopped down in the blue beanbag chair, and lost every planned word. Small talk took over for an hour or two and then gave way to silence. She slouched into the beanbag chair. They had to talk about it. She had to mention it. Somehow.
    Khloe sprawled on her stomach over the blue carpet, stretched out to her full length of four-foot-eleven. She always extended even her feet, as if to take up as much room as possible. Her hand swept a flesh-colored pencil over the sketchpad paper. A woman’s profile began to take shape.
    From the dresser, her sound system emitted a low stream of music, some artist from at least a decade ago. Violet couldn’t figure out what Khloe had against current music. Come on, no dodging, just ask her. Best friends didn’t need a smooth-edged speech. Shouldn’t, anyway.
    Khloe glanced up and rolled onto her back. Her strawberry blonde ponytail fanned out to the left of her face.
    â€œI’m going crazy here. Just spill it, Vi. I want every detail.”
    Violet swallowed. “What?”
    â€œYou didn’t text me all day, even when I sent you that link about the aquarium. You should’ve been bouncing up and down and planning a field trip and stuff. I was afraid you weren’t coming over at all.”
    She should just say it. But with Khloe poking a pencil in her face, not a word squeaked out.
    A grin cracked the rose-petal line of Khloe’s glossed lips. “I could guess. You could just nod or shake your head.”
    â€œKhloe …”
    Khloe pushed up from the floor and knelt close. “Fine, leave out some details, just tell me. How far did you get?”
    Oh … “This has nothing to do with Austin.”
    The smile inverted. “You guys still haven’t—?”
    â€œKhloe, I know. About your dad. I know what’s going on.”
    A story-weaving wrinkle gathered between Khloe’s eyes. She couldn’t possibly think she’d get away with the first lie in a decade of friendship.
    Violet ran a thumb over her charm bracelet. “Thursday, when we made carrot cake, he wasn’t at that pub like you said he was. At first I thought he must have lied to you about it, and you didn’t know, but … you did. And you know where he really was.”
    â€œHe was at the pub like he said. Like I said.”
    No way. Violet looked away from her, up at the fixed smiles of age-old singer/songwriter posters tacked on the wall over the lavender-quilted bed.
    â€œJust so happens my dad was there,” she said to the image of Carole King. “And I asked if he said hi to yours.”
    The colored pencil in Khloe’s hand dropped to the carpet.
    â€œI figured it out.” Violet crossed her arms. “I never, ever thought your dad would, but … Khloe, why didn’t you tell me?”
    â€œThere’s nothing to tell.”
    Oh, fine. She’d say it. She faced Khloe and unfolded her arms. “He’s having an affair. Right?”
    â€œWhat! Of course not!”
    The surge of red in Khloe’s cheeks had to be real indignation. But she knew. Didn’t she? In the Hansen family, people paid attention to each other. How could Khloe not know?
    Or maybe it was something else. Something disastrous enough to make Khloe lie, knowing she would be cutting threads in their friendship.
    Khloe jumped to her feet and plopped onto the bed. “Okay, whatever, you hit the bull’s-eye. It’s an affair, and it’s embarrassing, and I didn’t want you to find out.”
    When lying fails, get