Page 50 of Rebellious

My dad, always the calm—and sneaky—one, sighs in defeat.

“Come on!” I yell.

“I think Aspen can handle herself,” he assures me. “But just in case, I’ll make sure Hayes checks on her frequently.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Theo’s voice is a hard grit. “Hayes? He sucks—”

“Theo,” Anniston interrupts, her voice stern. “It’s for the foundation—a charity for Marines. No one would be stupid enough to harass our daughter while dozens of Marines linger close by. Stop being ridiculous. Aspen will be fine.”

For confirmation, she looks at Aspen, who blatantly winks at me before announcing, “I can handle myself.”

I take a step forward. Does she think this is some kind of game?

“Relax,” growls my dad, tugging me back by the shirt. “You’re helping your mother at the front entrance.”

“I don’t want—”

He cuts me off, his voice full of finality. “You’re helping your mother.”

My mouth snaps shut. My father is a patient man, but after bowing up to him this morning, I don’t doubt he’s itching to give me a piece of his mind.

I nod, my father acknowledging my acceptance before turning on his heel and heading to the driveway.

My mother grabs my hand, pulling me forward as we follow Dad to the front where, apparently, I will work all day. Coincidentally, it’s out of sight from the kissing booth.

“Aspen will be fine,” my mother whispers.

Her words don’t help, and I look back to see Anniston pulling Theo away, leaving Fenn with Aspen.

“Fenn will wander off,” I note aloud.

My dad doesn’t take the bait. “Aspen will be fine.” He pushes me toward the table where two chairs and a metal box sit. “It’s a twenty-dollar donation to enter,” he tells me. “Ask if they want a receipt.”

“I’ll handle that,” says my mother, taking a seat at the table, opening the box, and pulling out the receipt book.

My father scans my mother’s body with a hooded gaze. She looks ridiculous in a baggy t-shirt with the foundation’s logo on the front.My dad forced her to take his shirt when hers looked like it had shrunk in the dryer.

“Make sure you direct them to the ticket booth where your brother and I will be.”

I don’t answer; my gaze had wandered to the back of the property, straining to catch a glance of Aspen. “Bennett?”

“Yeah, I got it,” I finally clip out. It’s no use; I can’t see Aspen from this far away.

My father hesitates, and I find his hard stare. “I’m fine.” I put my hands up in surrender. I don’t need a lecture or him lingering, making sure I follow the rules.

Finally, he seems to believe me and nods, stepping back but not without warning, “Behave. I can’t contain your uncle and you today.”

“Yes, sir.”

My words are biting, but he lets it go, walking toward my brother and pulling him from a girl he corralled, and dragging him to the ticket booth.

“Sit with me, Bennett.” Mom pats the chair next to her.

I don’t want to. I want to stand. Maybe go find some binoculars—anything but sitting down with my back to Aspen.

But I don’t have time to make up an excuse to leave because Bianca, Uncle Hayes’s wife, yells, “Gates are open!”

Fuck.

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