Page 6 of The Penalty

“I am. I can get myself a soda or something. Coffee.”

I shake my head at him to back off as he takes a step closer to me. “I don’t drink.”

“Good, good.” He’s nodding. “Dinner. We could get something to eat. Pizza? That used to be your favorite, right?”

I unfold my body, rising to my feet, looking up at him makes me uncomfortable. Like I’m five again.

I gain a sense of control over the situation, staring down at him, and he takes a step back when I move in closer. That’s also a satisfying feeling. “You know nothing about me, and you never will. Why did you really come here, Dad?” I put as much scorn into the word as I can. He’s no father to me. “I don’t have any money. I’m a student, barely paying my bills.” The scholarships only cover so much.

His lips are turned down at the corners, eyes sad, but I’m not falling for his show. “I’m not looking for anything. I told you. I’m sober. I’ve got a job. I got my mechanic’s license.” He reaches up to rub at his scalp and I hate howfamiliar the gesture is. “I’m doing better. In fact. If you need help with anything. Extra money for school. I can give you some.”

Rage and anger, sadness and fear are all swirling around in me, competing to take over, but I let the rage win out. That’s the easiest. The best. The one I’m most familiar with. I lift a shaky hand to poke him in the chest. “I don’t need or want anything from you. Except for you to leave and never come back here. I don’t want to see you again.”

He backs up. Arms in the air. “I understand you’re not ready. I won’t come back here, but I’m going to leave my phone number and email address here. Please call me when you’re ready to talk.”

He holds a shaky hand out, offering me a crumpled piece of paper. I snatch it away, jamming it into my back pocket. “I won’t.” It’s not like I even want the paper, but I also don’t want him standing here any longer than necessary.

“I hope you do, Devlin. It looks like you’re doing well, and I’d like a chance to get to know my son. I’ve missed so much, and life is too short to not make amends.”

“I’m not your son. Forget about me and lose this address.” How did he even get it?

I turn to go back into the house.

“Good luck with the hockey season next year, and congratulations on winning the championship.”

I push through the front door. He doesn’t deserve an answer, but at least that solves one conundrum. He must have seen an article about the team. That’s how he found me. He’s hopingto ride my coattails when I become a pro hockey player. All the making amends stuff is bullshit. It has to be.

The house rattles, shaking the expensive paintings as I slam the door on him. I slip to the floor, knees weak, trembling all over as I hug myself. It’s like I’m a kid again, left at home by myself for three days with no food while he’s off drunk somewhere.

The emptiness of the house is less friendly now, like it’s about to swallow me whole and drown me.

I take deep rhythmic breaths to keep the fear at a reasonable level when the little mouse pokes its snout out of the kitchen doorway, blinking jet-black eyes at me. There’s no more room in me for fear, so I glare at the creature until it scuttles away. Tomorrow, I can buy some traps. I’ll never sleep knowing that thing is sharing the space with me.

I drag my exhausted body up. The only thing on my mind now is a hot shower. Even talking to him left me feeling dirty, small, and helpless, and I hate that feeling. I want to wash it away in a stream of scorching heat.

Not the way I wanted to start my summer.

Chapter 3

Good Behavior

Cece - 3 Months Later

Sometimes good behavior paysoff. I couldn’t convince my father to let me keep my car for the semester. But he oh so graciously granted me an early release to attend the Great Lakes Fan Con I’ve been waiting for all year. He kept me so busy with community service, and doing grunt work at his office, I only hung out with my friends at home a handful of times over the summer. Turns out I wasn’t as upset about it as I thought I’d be. After what went down at Cornell, all the pieces have been falling into place. I’m realizing the toxic friends who share my privileged background are not the ones who are going to stand by me in a crisis.

But other than looking down his nose at my online “nerd friends,” my father doesn’t consider them a threat. Hilarious. If he knew the things I’ve done at comic conventions, he might reconsider. But I’m not telling.

And now I’m free. The convention is in Detroit, not far from my new school, so I told him I wanted to settle into the house before my roommates show up. The roommates I’ve only met on a video call, by the way. I’m sure it’ll be fine. If not, I’ll hang out at Beau’s house. I’m not so into hockey after being dragged to chilly arenas a million or so times during my childhood, but the hockey players? I can get behind those smoking hot athletes. Not that Beau will let them go anywhere near his precious twin sister, but he can’t stop me from looking.

The closer I get to the hotel, the taller I’m sitting. I’m staring out the window, watching each tree pass by, bringing me closer to the con. The bus was a no go. Dad wouldn’t even let me take the train. So, I’m watching the world go by from the passenger seat of a sedan driven by Holmes. Poor guy.

“Sorry Dad made you drive me, Holmes.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, Cecelia. I don’t get on the open road as often as I like, anyway. City driving is not the same.” Having known me since I was a baby, he’s one of the few people I haven’t been able to convince to use my preferred nickname.

“I still appreciate it. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

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