AERIS
I feel like I’m glowing.
I stumble into my house with a giddy smile on my face, still somehow sex-drunk from the afternoon. I toe my wedges off and plonk my keys down on the coffee table, falling back onto the couch with a happy sigh.
Crunch rubs against my leg as she starts to purr up a storm, her raised tail flicking back and forth. I palm my phone, planning on sending a thank-you text to Hayes—for the food and the orgasm—but my screen flashes with the name of an incoming caller who I never thought I’d hear from again.
Everything inside of me freezes, and my thumb automatically hovers over the decline button. I haven’t spoken to my father in over a year. Roden was the only thing keeping our family together—“keeping” being a loose word here—and once he was gone, I wanted nothing to do with my parents. When Roden died, I think my dad saw it as a way out. He abandoned me when I needed him, and my mother followed suit.
So why, after all this time, could my dad possibly be calling me?
Against my better judgment and my skyrocketing pulse, I answer, but I don’t say anything.
“Why have you been photographed with Hayes Hollings?”
Not even a hello. He hasn’t cared how I’m doing since he left me to pick up the pieces of myself that Roden shattered with his death. There’s been this aching, empty hole inside of me that’s grown with each passing day, and my father’s absence only widened it. I’ve been doing so well mentally since Hayes came into my life. But this—this one impromptu phone call—has erased weeks of progress, sending me three steps backwards.
Anger cracks through me like a clap of thunder, swallowing my body in hellfire. I wipe the unshed tears from my eyes.
“Why are you calling me?”
Venom curls my dad’s voice into a hiss, and I can practically feel him spit on me through the phone. “Is it true? Are the rumors true? Are you seeing him?”
Why does he care? He never cared before. In fact, he stopped caring the day Roden died.
“Why does it matter?” I growl.
“You need to stop seeing him.”
“Oh, that’s rich. How could you possibly think you’re entitled to make demands like that?”
I clench my hands into fists, and when I dig my fingernails into my palm, the warmth of blood signals that I must’ve broken the skin. I’m not going to entertain this. He has the audacity to demand that I listen to him? He thinks he has the right to just walk back into my life—like he wasn’t the worst father in the whole world, like I didn’t used to hide from him as a child because I was afraid of what he’d do to me?
“I’m your father, Aeris.”
Father? Yeah, right. The fear that’s been force-fed to me this entire time is slowly turning into anger.
“You’re giving yourself a lot of fucking credit,” I snarl maliciously, hauling myself off the couch and onto my feet. The motion scares Crunch off to another section of the house, and I try to calm myself by pacing around the living room.
“You haven’t been a father. You were never there for me. When I needed you the most, you left me! You made Mom turn her back on me. I had nobody. Nobody in the entire world, and all I needed was for you to hug me. For you to tell me everything was going to be okay. But you couldn’t even do that.”
He pauses, and the only sound I can hear on his end is heavy breathing.
“You have no idea what your mother and I have been through since Roden’s death.”
I hate myself for the tears that clog my vision, betrayal puncturing my chest like an icicle. “Don’t—don’t you dare say his name. You have no right.”
“No matter what you think of me, I loved your brother,” my father says.
“You were ashamed of Roden. You never paid any attention to him. You were never there for him. He did everything to try and please you, even though you never deserved an ounce of his respect.” The truth tastes bitter on my tongue, and it goes down about as easy as cough medicine.
I have to brace myself against the wall to stop my head from spinning, to stop my knees from buckling underneath me.
“I’m not going to waste my breath arguing with you when I could be doing more productive things. I don’t want our family name to be dragged through the mud more than it already has with your brother’s selfish act. I thought I was doing something good by trying to warn you, but I realize you’re still the spoiled brat you’ve always been—refusing my help.”
Help? He seriously thinks he’s ever helped me?
My tone is measured. “Warn me about what?”
“Whatever delusions you’ve been indulging in, let me be the one to give you a reality check. Hayes is using you. I overheard that he slept with a sponsor’s daughter, and he’s afraid word will get out, so he’s trying to amend his reputation now to lessen the blow.”
My stomach sours, and I’m glad I didn’t eat a lot of food earlier, otherwise it would’ve all come back up.
What the hell is he talking about? How does he know that? How does he even know who Hayes is? My father isn’t interested in sports, and I highly doubt he’d pick up a sudden liking for hockey just to deliver this fun little tidbit to me.
My vision is so blurred by the fumes of rage that I don’t even know if my father is telling the truth. This is probably a ruse to make it seem like he cares about me, to lure me back into a false sense of security so I’m dependent on him like I was when I was a child.
How is it that he still continues to torture me, even hundreds of miles away? I expected him to have this power over me when I was little, not when I’m a full-grown woman. I’m tired. I’m tired of all of it.
“Where’s your proof?”
“My proof?”
Shock follows the heel of his words. It’s like my tongue is on a warpath, designed specifically to hurt him. “Yes. A picture? Do you have anything for me? ‘Cause I sure as shit am not taking your words at face value.”
My father’s a serial liar, and Hayes promised me there would be no more secrets between us.
“I don’t need proof. If you were smart, you would take my word for it,” he sneers.
Fury shoehorns its way into my heart. “You haven’t given me a reason to believe a word you’ve said in the past. Why would I believe you now?”
“It would be a mistake if you didn’t. Though you’re pretty familiar with mistakes, aren’t you, Aeris?”
This is not a conversation I’m going to have. I’m not going to give my dad the satisfaction of knowing his words cut me bone deep.
“Goodbye, Michael.”
I’m a second from hanging up, but his last words leave me with an overwhelming fear that refuses to be extinguished.
“He’s not who you think he is.”
