Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
I am a shitty friend, and I’m becoming an equally shitty father.
Kelley is right. I have to do better.
Two weeks later, my phone vibrating wakes me in the middle of the night. The fluorescent hands on the old clock on the nightstand tell me it's three a.m.
“Lily?”
Crying. Gasping. The last sounds any father wants to hear on the other end of a phone call from his daughter.
I sit up and reach for my sweatpants on the floor. “Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”
“He-he left me here...” The shakiness in her voice is like talons shredding my heart.
“Who left you where?” I’m already crossing the room, stepping into my boots.
Her sobs fill my ear. “Jeff. We were at a bar playing pool and we got in a fight.” A train sounds in the background. “And he just left me here. I thought he was just being a jerk and would come back.” She sucks in a breath and whimpers. “But the bar closed a while ago and I’m here all alone in the dark parking lot and I’m scared.”
My blood goes hot with anger, pulsing through me like lava. “I’ll fucking kill him. Tell me where you are. I’m leaving right now.” I snatch my keys from my dresser and rush downstairs.
“I-I’m not sure. I wasn’t paying attention when he was driving here.”
“What’s the name of the bar?”
“Um… the sign says Fupagus Bar and Grill.”
I don’t recognize that name at all, and I’ve been to every bar in a twenty-mile radius.
“Do you still have the family GPS app on your phone?” I ask her.
She sniffles. “Yes. I forgot about that.”
“Hang on. Let me see if it shows me where you are.” I pull up the app and wait for the map to load. Her black dot is showing her at an address a little over an hour away.
“Shit. It’s going to take me an hour to get there.”
She cries harder. “I’m so scared, Dad. It’s pitch black out. What should I do?”
I bolt out of the house and run to my truck. “First, I just want you to take some deep breaths, okay? We’re going to stay on the phone ’till I get there. I’m on my way there already.”
“Please hurry.”
“I promise I’ll drive as fast as I can. Is there anything else around you? A gas station or convenience store?”
“I think there’s a little convenience store down the road.”
My teeth grind. I don’t know what’s the lesser of the evils—her sitting in a dark parking lot with no one around, or sitting at a convenience store where unsavory characters will be traipsing around this time of night.
“I think you should walk down there and wait by the store,” I finally say.
“You’ll stay on the phone with me?”
“I promise. Do you still have the Mace in your bag?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to take it out and hold it in your hand, just in case. If you have long sleeves on, hide it under your sleeve.”
“Okay…” I hear the faint sound of the zipper on her purse. “I can’t believe he just left me here. Who does things like this?” Her voice cracks with new tears. “He just walked out of the bar and left me here. I don’t even know where the hell I am. I didn’t even want to go out tonight. I wanted to stay home and watch a movie, but God forbid he doesn’t hang out with his friends—”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, itching to punch the shit out of him. I knew this guy was going to hurt her. “Lily. Let’s not think about that asshole now. Let me know when you get to the store.”
“I’m almost there. Should I go inside? It’s a tiny place.”
“Yeah. Get a bottle of water and a snack. If they have a magazine rack, just stand there and flip through some.”
“I’ll probably get kicked out.”
“That’s okay. I just want you to buy some time inside.”
For the next few moments, all I hear is footsteps until she announces, “I’m here. I’m going inside. There’s an older woman at the register,” she whispers.
“Good. If she says something, just tell her you’re waiting for a ride.”
I push the speed limit for the next forty minutes, grateful I’ve been sober since Kelley’s visit. If I was off my face right now, I’d be useless to my daughter. I’m exhausted, though—yawning every few minutes while trying to keep Lily from panicking on the other end of the phone. She keeps bouncing between spurts of crying to snark-infused anger.
When I pull into the parking lot of the seedy store, she jumps into the car and throws her arms around me across the center console. The glimpse I see of her before she burrows into my shoulder is harrowing. Her hair is tangled, while her black eyeliner is smudged beneath her eyes and streaked down her cheeks.