Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“You don’t have a ten anymore, Daddy. You have a one.”
Next to me, Winnie sat with her palms pressed together between her knees, totally silent. When we pulled up in my driveway, she barely waited before the car was in park before getting out. “Bye, girls,” she said, giving them a quick wave before going into her house.
“Is Winnie mad at us?” Luna asked tearfully.
“No. She’s mad at me.”
“Why?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I snapped before taking the edge off my tone. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I exhaled. “Please just go in the house and pack your bags.”
After returning the girls to Naomi—they gave me hugs goodbye I didn’t deserve—and telling them to have a good first day at school tomorrow, I went home and threw myself facedown on the couch. I had laundry to do and dishes to put away and bathrooms to clean, but I didn’t feel like doing any of it. I just wanted to stew in my anger and self-righteousness.
Because I was fucking right, wasn’t I? Bree was wrong, and I was right. It was like she’d erased all the horrible memories of what it was like every time he decided to show up in our lives. It was bad enough that we’d gone through it—why would she want to subject our children to the same bullshit? And what for? So they could learn they had a grandfather just to watch him die? What kind of stories were we supposed to tell about him?
Still . . . I know I shouldn’t have spoken to Winnie like that.
Hallie was right. I was an ogre.
Flopping onto my back, I draped an arm over my forehead. Every time I thought about the hurt expression on her face when I’d snapped at her, or her pink nose when she came outside and didn’t want to be near me, my chest caved. But apologies didn’t come easy to me—mostly I was the kind of guy who’d rather dig his heels in and claw at the dirt than admit he was wrong or at fault.
And really . . . was I all that wrong? What was so bad about what I’d said? It was the truth! It’s not like we were dating. But it reminded me of the guilt I felt after Naomi would accuse me of shutting down or pushing her away. “You make it painful to love you,” she’d say. “Why won’t you let me in?”
I scowled, the old resentment bleeding fresh. I’d never asked her to love me. This was why I was better off alone. I didn’t want to owe anyone an explanation or an apology. I didn’t want to be responsible for someone else’s feelings. I couldn’t be trusted with them.
In the end, I lay there so long I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was dark, and I sat up, groggy and disoriented. Checking my phone, I discovered it was after nine o’clock. I also discovered I’d missed a call from my sister and a text from Justin asking if I was okay.
But I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Exhaling, I set my phone aside and rubbed my face with both hands. There was a gaping pit in my stomach, and my head was throbbing.
I turned off all the lights and went upstairs to bed.
Seventeen
Dex
I was prepared for Justin to grill me at work the next morning, but he didn’t. In fact, he said nothing to me at all, which made me feel even worse.
Naomi sent me some photos of the girls’ first school morning, and their joyful smiles tugged at my heart. I felt terrible for yelling at them yesterday. None of this was their fault.
I went through the motions of my shift, which was uneventful. On one level, this was a good thing, since it meant there were no dire emergencies. But it left me with a lot of free time and headspace to think about things—Winnie, my father, my sister, my kids, my behavior—and none of it made me feel good about myself.
After dinner, I finally broke down and sought Justin out in the dorm room where he slept. He was seated at the desk flipping through a binder.
“Hey.” I leaned on the doorframe.
He barely glanced up. “Hey.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me about yesterday?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not my business.” He shrugged. “And Bree told me not to.”
I frowned. “Is she mad at me?”
“No, I wouldn’t say she’s mad. I think she’s hoping you’ll change your mind, but she understands why you feel the way you do.” He flipped a page in the binder. “She knows you.”
I hung around in the doorway another minute, scratching at a nick in the frame. “I was a dick to Winnie yesterday.”
“I figured something must have gone wrong.”
“It did.” When he didn’t ask me what it was, I kept going. “She knew I was upset about something, and when she wouldn’t leave me alone about it, I jumped down her throat.”