Page 65 of The Heartbreak Blitz

I chuckle. “It’s not that. I just don’t like groups of people as a whole, so…”

“So.” Cade looks both ways in the hallway then yanks me into an empty study room and locks the door behind us. He pulls me close, dropping our bags at his feet as he ravishes my mouth. His tongue is a skilled debater because before I can protest that what we’re doing is wrong, I’ve given in to him, lifting onto my tiptoes to give him better access.

“I figured with the way you were looking at me, you needed something.”

“Is that so?” I ask breathlessly, his lips moving up my neck. “This isn’t for you whatsoever?”

“It’s a hard task but someone has to do it.”

“Glad you’re taking one for the team.”

He kisses me some more, pulling away before it gets too hot and heavy. “I’ve been wondering…” he starts. “Does your dad know about me?”

My stomach flips. Panic rises in my chest like I’m a child in trouble.

“You haven’t told him,” he guesses.

He pulls away a little bit more, but I grab for him again. “My dad and I don’t really talk about stuff like that.”

“Where does he think you were all night?”

“He might have guessed at that point, but he doesn’t know about you specifically. Not your name. Not what I feel for you.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” I reply honestly. “I don’t know how he’ll react.”

Cade’s brows lower. “Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I told my parents last night. They want to meet you.”

“That’s…scary,” I admit.

Cade shrugs. “It’s where I thought we were headed.”

“We are,” I say, even though he’s not looking at me now.

“You sure?”

“If you’re worried about my dad, don’t be. He’s not— I’m not…” I groan, not knowing what I want to say or how I can explain it. For the longest time, Dad’s been such a secret for me, and even now, Cade doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. I didn’t tell him Dad is morbidly obese and has no aspirations of getting better. I told him he was sick. Something that’s one hundred percent factually true, but that my dad would probably deny. “It’s different with my dad.”

“How so?”

“One, I never know how he’s going to react. Two…” I open my mouth to confess everything, but it’s too difficult. I don’t knowhow to get the words out, and I don’t want Cade to think of me differently.

“Two?”

“Sometimes he’s not very nice to me, okay?”

Cade reels backward. “Excuse me?”

“Sometimes, he’s not very nice to me.” My voice is much calmer now. Smoother. “He doesn’t understand how his words hurt. It’s not his fault. Sort of.” Cade shakes his head, and I don’t blame him. I can’t tell what’s true and what part is making excuses for him. I’ve been doing it for so long that I can’t tell if the things I make excuses for are actually true.

Cade skims his thumb over my cheek. “You take care of your dad, but he’s not very nice to you? Shouldn’t he be grateful?”

“You would think…” I step away from him. Talking about this is too embarrassing. It’s like admitting something shameful, as if I’m a little girl who pees her pants in public, and now I’m exposed to the one person I want to think well of me.

“What kinds of things does he say to you?”

“For starters, he called me a tramp yesterday.”

---