I’m gazing out the window of a Greyhound when my phone vibrates.
I pick up on the first ring, silently praying for good news. The last update Oakley gave me was that they were keeping Cole overnight.
When I asked how bad his injuries were, he said he didn’t know. They were still running tests.
“Hey,” I answer. “Any news?”
“Yeah,” Oakley says. “Concussion…a bad one. But they’re discharging him later today.”
I breathe a sigh of relief and make a mental note to text Sawyer the latest update as soon as we hang up. Poor girl has been up half the night praying.
“Thank God.”
“I know.” He snickers. “Can’t say the same for the asshole, though. Rumor has it Jace fucked him up so bad he’ll be in the hospital for a couple weeks…at least.”
“He deserves it,” I utter before a horrifying thought hits me.
After Jace beat the living shit out of Tommy for hurting his brother, he was dragged off the field in cuffs.
Surely the severity of Tommy’s injuries would mean worse charges for Jace.
“What about Jace?”
“I told you,” Oakley starts. “My dad took care of it. He’s a dick sometimes, but he’s legit the best defense attorney in the state. Jace was released late last night. He’s at the hospital if you want to swing by and see him.”
“I can’t,” I say as the bus pulls up to the station. “I…uh. I have a thing.”
“What kind of thing?”
“It’s not important. I’ll fill you in later tonight.”
“Um…okay,” Oakley says uneasily. “If you need me, call me.”
“I will. Thanks for the update on Cole. I’m really glad he’s okay.”
“Me too,” he says. “Scared the shit out of me. It’s safe to say I’m never going to another game of his again.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It was Tommy’s.”
He didn’t just cross a line last night, he bulldozed over it. I’m ashamed I was ever into him.
“Yeah, well. There’s a good reason I never liked that motherfucking assface douchebag,” Oakley spits before he clears his throat. “Oh, shit. Gotta go. The nurses are giving me dirty looks and asking if I’m family.”
I shoulder my purse and walk off the bus. “Talk to you later.”
“Yo chill, lady. Cole’s my brother from another mother,” I hear Oakley shout before hanging up.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans as the door opens and the bailiff brings my father out.
All things considered, he doesn’t look too terrible. There are bags under his eyes, his lean frame is a little thinner, and the orange jumpsuit looks all wrong on him, but his eyes sparkle with optimism when he sees me.
I offer him a rueful smile as he takes a seat on his side of the plexiglass and reaches for the phone.
I pick up the one on my side. “You look good.”
His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was gonna say the same thing to you.” He points to his head. “What happened to the blue?”
“It’s against RHA’s dress code, so I had to get rid of it.”
He nods in understanding. “How are things? Crystal told me you’re still getting straight A’s, and you met a friend.”
“Sawyer,” I inform him. “And yeah, she’s amazing. I’m lucky to have her.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Look at that—you both have boy names.”
I can’t help but laugh. The one and only thing my parents had in common, other than love, was their taste in music. Specifically, their favorite artist, Bob Dylan.
My dad wanted to name me Bob, whether or not I was a boy, but thankfully my mom insisted on Dylan.
“That we do.” I look around. There aren’t a lot of visitors. “How are you holding up in here?”
“I’m okay. The food sucks and they only let us out for an hour a day, but it could be worse.” He looks down at his feet. “I get lonely sometimes.”
Something in my chest dislodges and I’m about to promise him I’ll visit more…until his next statement.
“Savannah’s been visiting me a lot lately, though…keeping my spirits up.”
I feel like I’ve been dunked in a vat of ice water. “I thought she wanted a divorce?”
A genuine smile lights up his face. “No, we’ve worked things out.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sitting up in my seat, I move closer to the glass. “Dad, she’s the reason you’re in here.”
Sadness lines his face. “No, tator tot. I have no one to blame but myself for this mess.”
I’m all for people taking responsibility for their actions, but Savannah definitely played a part in all this.
“I was there, remember? She was always complaining about you not making enough money, meanwhile she was spending almost every dime you earned while she sat on her ass all day. She put too much pressure on you…made you feel like you weren’t good enough.” I place my hand on the glass, hoping to get through to him. “She was wrong, Dad. You are good enough and you don’t need her.”
We don’t need her.
“Savannah’s a good woman,” he begins. “She—”
“Mom was a million times better,” I say, because someone has to make him see the light. “Mom never would have pushed you for any of the material crap Savannah did. She never would have made you feel worthless. Mom loved you. Savannah uses you. Big difference.”
Briefly, I see pain flash in his eyes before he bows his head. “Last I checked, your mother wasn’t coming back from the grave we buried her in ten years ago, Dylan.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “I know you and Savannah have your differences, but you’re gonna have to learn to get along.”
Never. I will never get along with that manipulating witch. She can kiss my skinny ass. “No—”
“She’s pregnant.” His eyes gleam. “You’re finally gonna be a big sister, tator tot. It’s why I wanted you to visit me…so I could tell you in person.”
I clutch my chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t…
“What?” The room is spinning. “How is that even possible? It’s almost December. You’ve been in here since August.”
“She’s four months along,” he says slowly, like I’m dense.
That may be true, but my spidey-senses are telling me something is very fishy about all this. They’ve been married for years, but Savannah just so happens to get pregnant…while her husband is in prison.
Sounds more like she got knocked up by the first guy she could find after my dad was arrested, and that guy didn’t want to stick around.
“You shouldn’t be so quick to believe her.” I hold his stare. “Do us both a favor and have a paternity test done before you take responsibility for this baby.”
Outrage crosses over his face. “She’s my wife.”
Frustration bubbles inside me. “And I’m your daughter.” I glare at him. “Something you always seem to forget.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve done nothing but provide for you all these years.”
Shelling out money for your kid doesn’t make you a parent…it just makes you a donor.
A real parent builds a relationship with their child.
A real parent takes the time to nurture and learn who their child is as a person.
A real parent doesn’t let their child feel unloved and unwanted for a single day, let alone years.
“Unlike your wife, I never wanted your money. All I ever wanted was you.” I shrug helplessly. “But you weren’t there.”
He blinks. “I’m having trouble understanding exactly what it is you’re implying.”
As usual, he doesn’t get it. He’s too wrapped up in Savannah.
“I’m saying I had one parent…and she’s gone.”
“That’s not true,” he protests. “I’ve been here your whole life.”
“Yeah, like a ghost. We don’t talk. You don’t know my hopes, my dreams, my fears. Hell, you don’t even know my favorite color.”
“Yes, I do. It’s pink.”
“It’s blue,” I scream. “Pink was mom’s favorite color.”
He scrubs a hand down his face and sighs. “I don’t know what you want me to say here, Dylan.”
Nothing.
I stand. “Not a damn thing. Just like the last ten years.”
I shouldn’t have to work so hard to get him to love me.
I shouldn’t have to fight so hard to make him understand how much he’s hurting me.
“Sit down.”
I jab the glass with my finger. “No. I am done. You want to keep burying your head in the sand while Savannah walks all over you? Be my guest. But I’m not sticking around for it.” I snatch my purse off the counter. “Congrats on your new baby. I hope you don’t ignore this one and fuck the whole parenting thing up like you did with me.”
With that, I turn and walk out.
Fuck his wife.
Fuck his new baby.
Fuck him.
