Page 52 of The Déjà Glitch

Embarrassment warmed her already hot face. It always drove her nuts when he tricked her.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Well, then whatdoyou want to talk about, Gem?” She heard a knowing smile in his voice. “I mean, you find yourself randomly in front of Dad’s house—the place you refuse to visit without me—and you give me a call. I can’t imagine you really think I’m going to talk yououtof going inside.”

Gemma grumbled at his intuitiveness, but she had to admit, the situation was pretty transparent. Even if it had been subconscious, she’d called her brother for a reason.

“Gem, remember that time when I was in sixth grade and I had to do that book report, and I was so terrified to stand up in front of the class and speak?”

She remembered it well. She was in college and had helped him make his required visual aid on a weekend she was home visiting from school. She also gave him a pep talk and helped him practice.

“I see where you’re going with this, but I don’t see how presentingPercy Jacksonto a room full of twelve-year-olds has anything to do with me talking to Dad. It’s not the same.”

“It’s exactly the same! I was afraid, and you told me that everything would be all right, and that even if you couldn’t be there, you would be supporting me from far away.”

Gemma blinked in surprise that he remembered something from so long ago. The thought that it had such a profound impact on him made her wonder what other casual interactions in their youth he had taken to heart.

“Well, I’m glad you found that helpful.”

“I did. And I got an A on that project.” She could hear him proudly beaming through the phone. “The point is, Gem, you don’t need me. Yes, you might be uncomfortable at first, but isn’t that better than all this avoidance and anger?”

He had a point, and she remembered what Jack had said earlier about losing his father and unimportant things not being worth it in the end.

She looked at her surroundings and realized that the immediate alternative of waiting for a ride was unfavorably uncomfortable. She was hot and thirsty, and rideshares weren’t readily cruising the hills waiting for orders. Most people tucked away behind their private gates probably had their own drivers on call. She wasnotgoing back to Jack’s, and if she was going to call a ride, at least she could wait for it from the air-conditioned comfort of her father’s house.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But mostly because it’s hot and I don’t want to get caught in these people’s hedges.”

Patrick quietly laughed. “I love you, Gem. Call me if you need anything.”

“Love you too.”

She ended the call and cursedPercy Jacksonfor being the reason she was about to go visit a man she hadn’t spent time alone with for over twenty years.

CHAPTER

10

Gemma stopped outsidethe black gate guarding her father’s stone driveway. Her heart trilled somewhere near the base of her throat, and she found her hands sweating from more than only the heat.

She stood in a wonderland of memory. An alternate reality of what her life could have been had the adults in it made different decisions. Had her parents not split, she would have been raised in the hills. She would have been gifted a brand-new car at sixteen; gone to beautiful, superficial parties; danced on the periphery of fame—she might have even become famous, who knew. She did know that had they stayed, she would have grown up with a warped sense of reality. Certainty that she was better off having escaped that life filled her as she gazed at the mansion in front of her with its circular driveway, fountain, and jacaranda tree dripping purple petals like confetti, and saw it for what it was.

There had been a time she resented her mother for taking her and Patrick away from the life the house in the hillspromised. She had felt deprived of a privilege she hadn’t even known the full extent of back then. It wasn’t until she was older that she realized her father was the one she should have been disappointed in, and her mother had had all the courage to stand up for herself and her children. She had protected them in a way that took Gemma many years to recognize.

She took a breath and pressed the call button at the gate. The video screen mounted into the gray bricks came to life, and a familiar face filled the panel.

“Yes?”

Gemma’s tongue had grown heavy and dry. “H-Hi, Elena. It’s Gemma,” she said to her father’s housekeeper. The woman was in her sixties and had been taking care of Roger Peters for most of Gemma’s life. Of course he didn’t marry Summer Hart and live happily ever after. He lived alone, and Gemma chose not to keep track of his love life.

Elena gasped a sharp sound and leaned toward the camera, enlarging her face on the screen. “Gemma? What a lovely surprise! Is your brother along with you?”

She couldn’t fault Elena her surprise; she usually lurked in the background while Patrick did all the talking. Her heart took a tumble at the reminder that she was alone. “No. Only me.”

A dog barked on Elena’s end, and Gemma heard theclick-clackof nails on marble flooring. A second, much deeper imposing bark followed, and she couldn’t help the upward twitch in her lips. One thing she and her father had in common was their love for dogs.

“Duke, Cash, shush!” Elena called. “Sorry, dear. I’ll open the gate. I’ll let your father know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” she said, but the video had cut off over sounds of excited barking.