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Back Moment of Truth Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-One
  24. Twenty-Two
  25. Twenty-Three
  26. Twenty-Four
  27. Twenty-Five
  28. Twenty-Six
  29. Twenty-Seven
  30. Twenty-Eight
  31. Twenty-Nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Thirty-One
  34. Thirty-Two
  35. Thirty-Three
  36. Thirty-Four
  37. Thirty-Five
  38. Thirty-Six
  39. Thirty-Seven
  40. Thirty-Eight
  41. Thirty-Nine
  42. 2 Months Later
  43. Acknowledgments
  44. About the Author
  45. Books by Kasie West
  46. Back Ad
  47. About the Publisher

“No.”

“Call me if you need me, after your parents get home,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Good night, Moore.”

“Night.”

Thirty-Four

As I pulled up to my house, I expected sirens to sound, my parents to come rushing out yelling and screaming. But all was quiet, as I had left it. Everything was exactly the same. Not even Amelia’s car was back. It was almost like it hadn’t happened at all. Something should’ve been different to reflect how different I felt.

I sighed. Now I had to decide what to do with the truck. I had been planning on putting it back on the platform, but maybe I should leave it in the drive. It would force me to have the conversation with my parents that I’d been putting off practically my entire life.

My dad would be the first to see it the next night. It would shock him. Maybe even put him on the defense right away before I had a chance to share my feelings. Or maybe it would make him sad or scare him. I thought about every possible reaction my dad might have to seeing the truck, after eighteen years, not where it belonged. And regardless of how I felt, I didn’t think that was fair to him. I couldn’t go from saying nothing to doing the most dramatic thing possible. Both he and my mom deserved to be eased into what I needed to tell them. They didn’t deserve a lightning strike.

I put the truck in park and got out. The ramps were where I left them in front of the platform so I moved them around to the back. Then ever so slowly, positioning the truck just right, I drove it forward. When I got to the top of the ramps, the truck stopped, not having enough power to get over the lip. I needed to give it more gas. I gripped the wheel and pressed gently on the gas pedal. It still wasn’t enough. I’d gone up the ramps too slow. I thought about backing up and going up again, a little faster. First, I tried one last time with a little more pressure on the gas pedal. The truck lurched forward. I gasped and slammed on the brakes. It stopped just in time, inches from the front edge. I caught my breath.