Page 11 of Family Forever
Dylan knew she was probably right, but he still hated the fact she had to witness her dad’s drunken behavior.
In less than five minutes, he pulled into the parking lot of the packed bar. Why wouldn’t it be, it was a weekend night.
Lora stayed in the truck while he and Marissa went into the bar. It didn’t take but a second to locate her father. He was arguing with the bartender about why he wouldn’t serve him another drink.Just what he needed—another drink.
The bartender nodded empathetically at Marissa. Dylan stayed one step behind her for support. He saw no reason to step ahead of her since she’d indicated she’d been through this routine before.
“Dad.”
He didn’t acknowledge her and kept up with the bartender.
“Dad,” Marissa repeated as she reached up and touched his shoulder.
Instantaneously, her father turned while swinging his fist, catching his daughter square in the jaw. She yelped in pain and Dylan caught her as she fell. If she hadn’t been in his arms, he would have plastered that good-for-nothing drunk. But a quick glance let him know he didn’t need to, the bartender was already standing between her dad and them. Her father's eyes filled with tears. Dylan could only assume he’d just realized he punched his own daughter. He was no longer an immediate threat, and Dylan was sure her dad never really meant to be one.
Looking down at Marissa, he caught her stunned gaze.
“Are you okay?”
She blinked teary eyes.
“Marissa?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
The bar was near silent, and all eyes were on them. He just wanted to get Marissa out of this awful, appalling situation.
He kept a protective arm slung around her and motioned for her dad to follow them.
Her father stood, frozen in place, staring at his daughter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“Let’s just go,” she whispered cutting him off.
When they got to his truck, Dylan handed Marissa his keys and instructed her to follow him and her dad. He spun and eyed Mr. Geyer. “Give me your keys.”
He handed them over without hesitation.
Dylan’s hands gripped the steering wheel of the crappy old truck, reeking of cigarette smoke. It crossed his mind to grab the blubbering drunk in the passenger seat and shake some sense into him, but he guessed that wouldn’t do any good anyhow.
The man swiped his wet face with his shirtsleeve, rocked back and forth, and mumbled apologies.
He was sorry all right, Dylan thought, a sorry excuse for a father. No apology was going to make up for what he did to his daughter tonight. None. Dylan could only assume this wasn’t the first time something like this happened, but if he had anything to say about it, it would be the last time this happened. His heart went out to Marissa.
Though he had a lot he wanted to say to the pathetic man, Dylan spoke not a word during the short ride to the Geyer house. Nothing he would say would help, and the unkind words lingering on his tongue would probably only add fuel to the fire.
Dylan parked Mr. Geyer’s truck by the front steps, and he and Geyer slid out of the vehicle. He followed him into the house, Marissa was on their heels.
Once in the kitchen, Geyer's shameful gaze landed on his daughter. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t realize it was you who grabbed me.” Tears still ran down his thin, unshaven cheeks.
“I know.”
Dylan swung his gaze between the two of them. She’d already forgiven her dad, just like that. He certainly didn’t understand why or how she could be so forgiving. But how could he? He never walked in her shoes.
He turned and reached for the door but the apprehension coiling in the pit of his stomach caused him to spin back around, just in time to catch Mr. Geyer eyeing the bottle of whiskey sitting on the cluttered kitchen table. After all that happened, less than twenty minutes ago, the man was already ready to hit the bottle again. Why not, she forgave him. He was good to go again.
Dylan stepped back into the center of the small kitchen and caught Marissa’s humiliated gaze. He guessed she caught her dad eyeing the bottle too.
“Pack a bag, Marissa.”
