Page 30 of Tempt Me

Bella

I’ve avoided this conversation for the past week, but now it’s time. If I’m taking charge of my life…. I’m taking charge of my life.

I walk into the living room where my parents are reclining in their chairs and clasp my hands in front of me. “Mom. Dad. I need to discuss something with you.”

“What?” My dad’s face goes white as he snaps the footrest into place and fists his hands on the armrests.

“Dear, calm down.” My mom gives him a stern look but also joins him in an upright position.

“You, calm down.” His eyes are narrowed into little slits. “A young girl doesn’t come in to say something to her parents if it isn’t a big deal.” He snaps his head around to face me. “Are you pregnant? Is that Brock kid the father? I knew it was a bad idea to let you go out with him, and now, you’re saddled with him for the rest of your life.” He launches out of the chair and paces the floor.

“I’m not pregnant.”

“Thank God.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “If you aren’t pregnant, then what’s going on? Are you using drugs? Lord, I thought we did everything we could to ensure you kids didn’t go down that path.”

“Lee!” My mom rises from her seat and clamps a hand on my dad’s arm. “Bella isn’t using drugs. Could you, for once, calm down and wait until she tells us what’s going on? I’ve never met a more dramatic man in my life.”

“These are my kids, and I want the best for them. And until they’ve completed college and gotten solid jobs, I’m going to worry. Even then, I’m going to worry. It takes a lot to pay for things these days, and not having a solid plan in place is irresponsible. It’s my job to ensure they all have the best lives possible.”

Guilt settles in my gut. I know it’s ridiculous that my dad blows a gasket about everything, but he loves us kids and worked 80 hours a week for years to save up money for our college expenses. Shit. He’s right. I owe him to finish my college degree. That way, when I get my cosmetology license later, I’ll have a solid understanding of accounts when I operate my own business.

“Dad.” I walk forward and grab his other arm. “I’m not pregnant. I’m not even dating anyone. I’m not doing drugs. I’ve never even experimented with anything. And school is fine. I shouldn’t have come in here like this and upset you.”

“Dear….” My mom looks concerned. “If something’s wrong, you can tell us, despite your fathers’ dramatics.” She gives him an exasperated look. “We love you and your brothers, and we’ll always be there for you.”

“I know that.” Warmth floods through me. They’ve been my rock my entire life, and I owe them for all their sacrifices. “It was nothing. I was just going to tell you I’d be out late. I’m meeting the girls in town for drinks, and no, I won’t drink and drive. If I happen to have too much to drink, I’ll call an Uber.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart. Thank you for telling us.” My mother beams at me and then smacks my dad in the chest. “See…. You were acting like an idiot for no reason. You need to get ahold of yourself and stop acting like the kids aren’t adults who make sound decisions.”

“You’re right.” The color returns to his face, turning it a shade of crimson. “Bella, I apologize. I know you’re a good girl, and I shouldn’t question whether you’ll make the right decisions.”

“Thanks.” I give him a quick hug and exit the house to my car. Well, that went well.

As I near my car, I squint trying to make out something tucked under my windshield wiper. Probably one of those ‘You’re a horrible driver’ business cards. Except I’m parked in my driveway so that would be a bit extreme.

I drag the piece of paper out from under my windshield wiper and unfold it.

You thought changing phone numbers would deter me? I know where you live. I know where you go to school. I know everything about you. So why hide from me? I’m going to get you back if it’s the last thing I do. You should’ve accepted my drink the other night, and we’d already be back together.

My heart pounds erratically against my ribs. He was at the bar. And the drink…. Did he put something in it? When I shoved the drink to the end of the table, it bubbled. Shit. I know to watch drinks carefully, but would Brock stoop to that level?

No, he wouldn’t. Would he?

****

Callahan’s Bar

Forty-five Minutes Later

“You won’t believe it.” I slide into the bench seat across from Ruby and Emily with the paper clutched in my hands.

“What is that?” Ruby points at my hand.

“This was left on my windshield at the house. I found it when I came outside to come to the bar.” I unfold the paper and lay it out for them to read.

“What in the fuck?” Emily snatches the handwritten note off the table with shaking hands. “It’s from Brock, right?”

“Yes.” I clutch my hands together. “It’s his handwriting.”

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