One Hot Fall Term (Yardley College Chronicles Book1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

driveway. Grins.
    My last view of him, before he jumps into his truck, is blurred. Tears fill my eyes and threaten to pour down my cheeks.
    Ryan gives me one last wave from inside the cab of his pickup. Then he turns around, his strong arm resting over the seat behind him, and he backs out.
    “Goodbye,” I whisper.
    The truth is, I want to hold onto him, but should I? Probably, at military college, there’s a decent, smart, honest, good-as-gold girl that he deserves. Ryan really doesn’t know anything about me. He knows “re-invented me”. The “me” who is keeping my past secret.
    I know keeping Ryan is probably selfish. I’ll ultimately break his heart, because someday I’d have to tell him all of the truth.
    Then he’s going to hate me, because he’s going to know I’m not what he thinks I am.
    “Come on, Mia,” Dad grumbles, impatient. “Let’s go. I have a lot of driving to do over the next few days.”
    I walk around to the passenger side. Get in the car, curled up against the door. I stay silent as Dad backs out of the driveway. Mom comes to the door and stands on our broken concrete stoop. She has a dressing gown wrapped around her and a cup of coffee in her hand. She waves goodbye.
    I turn around and wave, until Dad turns left and she disappears from my sight. Now I’m alone with my stepfather and I feel weird. So I let my head rest against the door beside me, and I close my eyes and pretend to fall asleep.
    ***
     
     
    I drive eight hundred miles with my stepfather and I barely say a word. He talks a lot. He always does when we’re together, as if talking can make the past not exist. I act like I’m listening—I guess I do listen, really. All my life I’ve been obedient—I’ve rarely strayed from the rules, and I’ve always done what I’ve been told. The only claim to rebelliousness I’ve ever had was through sex…until I discovered that didn’t fill any of the emptiness inside, it didn’t make any of the doubt or pain go away.
    Dad talks about his work, about Lisa, about the house they are renovating and what great taste Lisa has. I try not to think about our crappy rented bungalow. One thing my mom’s divorce taught me was to be able to take care of myself and any kids, and that I can’t rely on a guy to do it for me.
    Even with Ryan, who is a decent guy and probably a guy who would stay married for a lifetime, I know I need to earn an income too.
    During the whole day, Dad and I have just stopped for food or to use a bathroom. It gets dark and he keeps on driving. I assume he’s not going to drive all night, but I’m getting tense. He’s got to stop somewhere—
    “I have to pull over, Mia.” My stepfather yawns.
    “Okay,” I say, as if my heart isn’t pounding and my stomach isn’t in knots.
    We’re coming up to an off-ramp. The signs for a couple of motels glow against the velvet black sky. This is awkward—I don’t know what to do or say.
    My phone vibrates. A text from Ryan.
How are you, Mia? The drive okay? Miss you.
    “Which do you want?” my father says. “Super Eight or that other one?”
    The other one isn’t part of a chain and looks a little shabby. “Super Eight, I guess.”
    I’d thought about this for days leading up to this trip—about having to stop for the night. I’m nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my stepfather. Six months this time. He used to pay a lot more attention to me when he lived with us and I went along with whatever he wanted me to do. I felt I had to. But that was then, and this is now. He’s not going to ask for one room for two of us, is he?
    The issue comes up right away at the desk. A black woman with glasses on a gold chain and a uniform types away at a computer keyboard. “Will that be one room?” she asks my dad.
    “No,” I say quickly. I pull my wallet out of my purse. In it, I have three hundred dollars in cash. I can pay for my own room at the Super Eight.
    “There’s two beds in a room,” he