Page 21 of One Last Chance

Chapter 9

The lights wereoff when I got home, but I still made Kash stop at the tree line. Even though I was sure Dad was passed out by now, I didn’t want to take any chances. I knew my dad loved me, but sometimes that love felt more frightening than anyone else’s hatred.

I looked over my shoulder at Kash until his frame melted into the shadows, then kept looking as I walked up to the door. I might not be able to see him, but he would see me—I wanted him to know that he was still on my mind. Always on my mind.

I fumbled with the knob a little more than I should have, my head and heart all dizzy with joy and relief, a giddiness only barely restrained by the knowledge that I still didn’t have all the pieces to this puzzle. In that moment, I didn’t care. For the first time in forever, I was riding high on loving feelings, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to enjoy every minute of it.

As soon as I stepped through the door, a light came on in my face and Dad lurched at me.

“Look who decided to stumble in!”

Startled, I screamed.

“Shut up! Where the hell were you?” He squinted at me with one eye, his other eye stuck together with sleep boogers. He jutted out his chin, emphasizing his underbite as he glared at me. I could smell the alcohol seeping from his pores, soaking his shirt and waistband with the pungent, depressing odor. I turned my back to him as I took off my shoes to give myself time to stifle the smile which seemed to be permanently affixed to my face.

“I went for a walk,” I said lightly.

“Don’t talk back to me! Where did you go? Who did you go with?”

I paused, irritated, and gave him a questioning look.

“Well?” he demanded.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want an answer? Because I was under the impression that you didn’t want me talking back to you.”

He tensed like he wanted to hit me, and I crossed my arms, silently daring him to do it. I was sick of his shit and he knew it. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists on either side of his head, sucking a breath in through big, flared nostrils covered in broken capillaries, then blew it out.

“I want answers,” he said flatly.

“Okay. The house was a little stuffy and more than a little too loud for my liking, so I went for a walk to the cemetery.”

His eyes flew open and the sticky one twitched. He tensed up again. “What the hell were you doing there at this time of night?! You got some creepy boyfriend who gets off on dead people?”

“God, dad, gross. No, I don’t have some creepy boyfriend who gets off on dead people. Where do you even come up with this kinda stuff?” I shuddered, shaking off the imagery before it could take on a life of its own. The last thing I needed was to get caught fantasizing about Kash while Dad was lecturing.

I sighed. “I went to see Hunter, okay? I talk to him sometimes when I’m feeling lonely or conf -”

Dad’s fist connected with the wall so hard that it sank into the drywall up to his wrist. I snapped my mouth shut and froze, my gaze fixed on the hole. He pulled his hand out slowly, letting bits of bloodied sheetrock trickle off his knuckles.

“That’s sick,” he said sourly. “Your brother is dead. You talk to him, you’re talking to yourself. Just like you were doing when you were writing to that idiot Kash.”

Indignation broke through my fear and flashed over my face before I could stop it.

“What? What’s the matter? You gonna defend that punk? He’s the reason you’re making yourself crazy in the middle of the goddamn night! God, I swear it’s all the same with you females, get a little good dick and you’re useless. Absolutely fucking useless!”

“That’s not—”

“Not what, Daisy, huh? That’s not what you were out there doing? You really expect me to believe that it’s a coincidence you disappeared in the middle of the night the same damn week that punk got back in town? Do you think I’m a fucking moron?”

I shook, staring at him. My brain had gone full stupid and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Hot, angry tears spilled down my face, but I still couldn’t move or make a sound. God I was tired of crying.

My father bowed his head and covered his face with his hand, shaking his head. “Don’t, don’t do that, Daisy. Stop it. You know I can’t stand to see you cry.”

I wiped my face, but the tears still came. My breath came in shuddering sobs now, no matter how I fought to control it.

“Damn it,” he whimpered. “Daisy, please.”

“I’m trying,” I said through clenched teeth and I really was. The only thing worse than succumbing to my emotions was succumbing to them in front of my father. I didn’t need or want his understanding or his pity.

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