Page 4 of Saddles

He knows I wait until it’s warmer to do chores.

“Well pup, it’s just you and me again.”

Chapter 2

April

“I don’t really give a shit.” I yank hard enough on the zipper to split my overstuffed duffel.

Of course it does.

“You can’t leave.” Dad crosses his arms, his gray eyebrows lower over his nose. “Not like this.”

I abandon the bag to throw my arms in the air. “Why not? Your newwifehas made it quite clear this isn’t my home. I guess living here for twenty three years doesn’t count for fuck all.” I can feel the sting of tears.

No. I’m not crying in front of him, or his smug bitch standing in the corner.

He holds up his smooth palms in a feigned sign of surrender. “April, you know you’re always welcome—”

“Screw you. I wasn’t even planning on moving back in.Youinsisted, remember? Ihada place.” I miss my apartment so badly. It was a year of absolute bliss living on my own.

Folding the canvas handles over the torn zipper, I bear hug my clothes to my chest. “Youwere the one who said after they jacked up my rent I should stay here.”

If I could shoot bullets out of my eyes, I would aim for her smirking fake face.

“You should have cleared it with the step-cunt before she took all of my stuff to the Goodwill.” My heart is pounding in my ears as I stalk past her, barely resisting the urge to slap the Botox out of her fat lips.

“Oh, hun, I thought that stuff was old rags. I didn’t know it was important to you.” Her veneers glow under the fluorescent lighting when she smiles.

I hate her. So. Much.

“See, April? It was an honest mistake.” Dad loosens his tie, but his cheeks stay red as he leans against the back of the couch.

“She’s full of shit,” I spit back.

I didn’t want to stay here. I should have freakingknownthis crap was going to happen.

All I wanted was a place to crash so I could focus on finishing my master’s. That’s what Dad promised.

But I should have realized he sold his soul to the devil and she’s sucking him dry.

Whatever. It’s his money.

I never asked for any, and worked my own way through school, even after Mom died.

People tell me I’m smart, yet apparently I’m so damn stupid.

“Where are you going to go?” His voice is weaker as he slumps into the cushions.

Bastard. He’s giving up.

“Someplace I can study.” My fingers land on the brass handle. It’s freezing cold from the outside air.

A blast of it strikes over me when I pull open the heavy oak door.

Great. Driving in the middle of the night during a Montana winter is always fun.

I’d still rather risk it then spend one more minute under the same roof as Norma.

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