He shook her hand off. “This is unacceptable. What’s wrong with you, Tuck?”

My face burned, and for a moment I almost took back my false confession, the one I hadn’t really planned on or thought through, the one that had seemed to break from my lips of its own accord. “I’ll pay for it,” I murmured, daring a glance at Mr. Swanson, who was massaging his temples.

“You damn sure will,” my father gritted. “But that windshield will need to be fixed in the next few days if Phil is going to drive it in the parade.” He looked at Mr. Swanson. “Arnold at the repair shop will fit you in,” he told Mr. Swanson. “I’ll pay for it, and Tuck here will pay me back. I’m sorry about my foolhardy son, Phil. This never should have happened.”

I’m sorry about my foolhardy son. My dad’s temper could flare at a moment’s notice, and he’d said hurtful things to me before, but that one really hurt. Even if it was based on a lie I’d told about myself. My mother put her hand on my father’s arm again, and this time he didn’t shrug her off. In fact, he put his hand over hers, giving her a small nod. My mother had a special knack for calming my father down when his anger began ramping up. She knew how to do it with a look, or a touch, or a word or two. “There we go, then. A perfect solution,” she said. “Tuck, please apologize to Mr. Swanson for the carelessness that resulted in damage to his car.”

I put my hands in my pockets but met Mr. Swanson’s eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He gave me a nod, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I accept your apology.”

My father looked at me, jerking his head to the left. “You can get started paying me back tonight, mucking out the horse stalls. And don’t let me catch you near the old stables again. There are sharp, rusted tools in there. It’s dangerous and I don’t want you fooling around.”

“It sounds like it was just an accident, Rand—”

“Even so,” my father said to Mr. Swanson. “Tuck needs to take responsibility for his actions. I’d offer to take the Thunderbird to Arnold myself tomorrow, but it sounds like it might be safest to have it towed.”

Phil nodded. “I need to drop Em off at the bus for music camp early tomorrow morning. I’ll call Arnold when I get back.”

I shot a look at Emily, still staring at me, eyes wide. I looked away. My dad tipped his chin. “Go on and get started, so you won’t be up all night,” he said, his tone softer.

“Yes, sir.” I looked at Mr. Swanson again. “Sorry again, sir.”