The Rogue

XXVII

*Faye*

"He's up," Maxen declared as he strolled into the kitchen.

I lifted my head from the peanut butter toast I'd been munching on at the island. "Who?"

"Your father. He's awake."

Cramming the rest of the toast into my mouth, I hurried after him. We crossed into my bedroom where my dad was staying, and he was sitting up in the bed. The blankness in his eyes gave him a sort of dazed look.

"Dad?" I asked as I sat on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Faye." A calm smile played across his mouth. "Honey, where are we?"

"You don't remember?"

"No...I can't seem to remember anything right now."

Well, that was not a good sign. Maxen firmly grasped my shoulder. When I glanced back at him, he was shaking his head. I knew what he meant. Now wasn't the time to explain everything to him.

"Do you feel okay?" I pressed.

"I guess. I feel a little...loopy. What happened? This doesn't look like a hospital."

"It's not a hospital."

My dad was conscious enough now to notice something in my tone was off. I just wasn't sure what to say or how to say it.

If we could fabricate a lie to protect him from everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours, should we do it? What if his memories return? We shouldn't lie. That would be risky.

"Are you hungry?" I inquired, recalling Maxen's warning.

"Not particularly."

"He needs to eat," Maxen asserted.

Appearing to notice our companion for the first time, my dad scanned Maxen up and down. "Who are you? You look familiar."

Maxen and I shared a troubled look. Where to even start? Gah, this was all a big freaking mess. But at least we were alive. It could always be worse.

"Maxen is my...friend," I said slowly. "He's helped heal you."

"Heal me? What's wrong with me?" he demanded.

Just when I opened my mouth to spew the truth, Maxen cut me off.

"Your daughter and I will be right back, okay?" He grabbed my arm and all but hoisted me to my feet. "We're going to find you something to eat."

I jerked my arm out of his hand once we'd left the room. "Is that really necessary?"

"We need to talk about what story to give him," Maxen told me, as if that somehow excused his roughness.

"The truth. We tell him the truth."

"But this might be the only chance you get to set your father free of all this. Think about it, Faye. You want him to stop hating your boyfriend? You want him to leave you alone?" He pointed at the closed bedroom door with his brows drawn together in graveness. "Then we need to make something up."

"I don't want to lie, Maxen. I suck at it. He'll know that I'm hiding something."

"Practice makes perfect, darling, so I suggest you use this opportunity to your advantage."

This entire conversation was making me mad. Maxen had changed over the short period we'd been acquainted; I actually started to like him. Yet this discussion was proof the cold, uncaring part of him still existed. How foolish of me to ever think otherwise.