Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
“You’re supposed to tell me what’s going on, my pretty girl. I can’t bear it when you call me crying like this.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “Did I interrupt your work?”
“Zoe…” Another long-suffering sigh. “You’re never an interruption, and you barely call me as it is. Tell me what’s going on so I can help you. That’s all I want to do, I promise.”
“I know, Dad.” I hated how he always felt like he had to be careful when we were talking about this specific subject. I wished we didn’t have to talk about it at all.
“Good,” he grunted. “So tell me what’s been happening and we’ll figure it out together, just like we always do, all right?”
Bah. It was like there was a button, and more tears came out.
“I was in his office just a few minutes ago. He yelled at me, but that’s not important—God knows it’s not the first time—but the things he says…he doesn’t even realize how much he is hurting me. He’s making me feel like a dirty secret. I feel…wrong.”
“Just wait a second—he’s been yelling at you? Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this, Zoe? You promised you’d tell me everything. That was our agreement before you left.”
I bit down on my lip to hold off on saying anything. I could picture him taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose, just like he always did when he felt troubled.
“I don’t like him yelling at you, let’s get that out of the way first. He doesn’t get to do that, do you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“And I don’t want to hear the words ‘dirty secret’ out of your mouth ever again. If I do, we’ll have a problem. What’s wrong with you? You’re my girl, not his, not in the way that counts, anyway. You’re everything I ever wanted to have in a daughter. I couldn’t be more proud to be your dad.”
“Dad,” I groaned. “You’re making it worse here.” His words were a soothing balm to the fresh wounds Mark had left, and they made me emotional too, just in a different way. I finally raised my head and wiped my nose with the back of my hand.
“Nothing he does or says can make it otherwise. You’ve never been anything but a joy to me. I don’t care if he happens to be your biological father, doesn’t mean one thing to me. I raised you better than this, so why are you letting him hurt you?”
I couldn’t talk through the lump in my throat, so my dad—my hero in everything—continued for me.
“You tried. I know you tried your best to get to know him, but if it’s not working…maybe it’s time to call it. You gave him the benefit of the doubt and waited for him to tell Chris about you. You did everything he wanted, and you’re still doing it, so maybe it’s time for you to do what you want, huh?”
“I can’t tell him,” I croaked out. “I promised Mark today that I wouldn’t tell Chris anything before his last season is over, and I hate it because he’s right, but he’s been manipulating me for years now and I’m just heartbroken.”
“Do you realize that’s been his excuse for the last three years? And how hard is he trying to get to know you? Because I happen to know how many times he’s promised to be somewhere and never showed up.”
“He was at the apartment, last night, Dad.”
“Who? Mark?”
“No…uh, actually, before I tell you about that…please don’t be angry. I didn’t tell you this because I wasn’t sure how you’d react to me living with a stranger, but—”
“Living with a stranger? What are you talking about?”
“Well…apparently one of Mark’s players had some trouble with his roommates and needed a place to stay. I hadn’t told Mark I wasn’t moving in with Kayla yet, so…thinking I wouldn’t be at the apartment…well, he offered it to Dylan.”
Not a sound could be heard from the other end of the line. I’d known he would be pissed, which was one of the reasons I hadn’t been calling him as much as I usually did. I hated having to lie to him.
“I’ve been living with him, with Dylan I mean, this last month, or maybe a bit longer,” I rushed out.
Complete silence. Then, “A month, or maybe a bit longer.”
Wincing, I tapped my forehead against my knees a few times. “Yeah, but he is a really good guy, Dad.” I could’ve told him about the times I’d met him before he moved in, but I didn’t think that would go well at all. Oh, and there was also the time where he held my hand and let me fall asleep on his shoulder when the electricity went out, but again, that wouldn’t go over well.