Page 76 of Play Our Song

She could feel Tilly’s eyes on her as she walked toward the door. She pushed it open, the sound of the piano coming louder, and turned at the last second. “I don’t hate you,” she said before she went inside.

And she didn’t. Not that it made a difference. But it seemed important that Tilly know that much, at least.

SHE WALKED HOME alone in the cold night, the air nipping at her nose and her whole body sad. Singing with Tilly had been… fine. They’d got the notes out. They’d managed to stand next to each other, but it had infected Sophie with a flood of sadness that she just couldn’t shake.

They could have had so much, could have been so perfect. But it hadn’t worked out. She supposed that it had been doomed from the beginning. She also supposed that having Gio around lurking behind all her previous dates might not have been the bad thing she’d always imagined.

At least that way she hadn’t had the chance to get in too deep before things ended. This way, her way, hurt. It hurt seeing Tilly. It hurt not seeing Tilly. It just hurt.

By the time she walked into the house, she just wanted to go to bed to lick her wounds, to try to sleep and forget about the world for a few precious hours.

She closed the door behind her and everything was quiet. She frowned. She’d left both her dad and Gio at home. It was strange that things were so quiet. Uncomfortable. She was just starting to panic, just starting to imagine all the things that might have gone wrong, when her father called her name.

She walked into the kitchen to find him sitting at the kitchen table. She didn’t even get the chance to speak.

“A policewoman.” It wasn’t a question. “A fucking policewoman. Are you kidding me?”

She felt a sharp pain in her chest, felt her face heat up. “Dad, it’s not—”

“Don’t you tell me that it’s not what I think. It’s exactly what I think. You’ve been sleeping around with a policewoman, with that new one, and now your chickens are coming home to roost.”

“Dad—”

He scraped his chair back and stood, knuckles on the table. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing, dad—”

“What did you fucking tell her?” His eyes were flashing and he spat when he talked.

“Nothing!”

He took one step closer to her, his fists balled at his sides, his face red. “I swear to god, Sophie.”

“I didn’t tell her anything,” she practically screamed. “I swear to you. I didn’t. I didn’t say anything.”

“A daughter of mine going with a copper, a daughter of mine lying down with filth,” he spat. “And then we all get arrested. A bit too much of a coincidence that, isn’t it?”

She swallowed. He was getting closer. She’d never been afraid of her father. He’d never laid a finger on her. Not ever. Buthe was angry, angrier than she thought she’d ever seen him. “I didn’t tell her anything. There was nothing to tell.”

“Sophie.” There was a warning growl in his voice.

She did the only thing she could think of. “I didn’t tell her anything. I swear on mum.”

He stopped, took a breath, his face paling slightly. “On mum?”

“I didn’t tell her anything, dad,” she said more quietly now. “We had a… a thing. We did. I kept it from you because I knew you’d be angry. But I never talked about you, never talked about the business. Even if I did, it was all fine. We haven’t been doing anything wrong.”

He grunted.

“The raid, the arrests. That was all her, nothing to do with me.”

“You’d better be damn sure of that, girl.”

“It wasn’t. We never talked about her job, either.” Sophie swallowed. “I swear to you, dad.”

He looked older now, more worn, his skin more gray, his forehead sweaty. He lifted a hand, pointed a sharp finger at her. “You’d better—”

She interrupted him before he could give her ultimatums. “It’s over,” she said flatly.

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