Page 9 of Lacey's Daddy
“Oh.”
“His name is Noah. You’ve probably met him here.”
I nod. I know who he is, but I don’t know him well.
Brian lifts me gently off the table and sets me on my feet before helping me into my sweater. He’s so very careful to make sure he doesn’t hurt my arm. He’s such a good person. I wish he were my Daddy. I’d die and go to heaven if Brian were my Daddy.
Chapter Three
I’m a ball of nerves when Brian pulls his rental car up to my father’s house. It’s not in a neighborhood. It’s outside of town off a dirt road. It’s a dump. More like a rundown cabin.
My father moved us here after eighth grade when he told the school we were moving. We did move. He didn’t lie about that, but we moved only a few miles out of town to this cabin. I would have gone to the same high school from this address. Instead I didn’t leave the cabin for many years—not until I started sneaking out when my father went away on weekends.
I don’t know where he goes. He has always told me hunting, but I think that’s a lie. I don’t think he hunts two weekends a month year-round. That’s not even legal.
But I don’t care what it is he does. I never question him. I’m just grateful he leaves me alone for two full days. I go to the Dungeon on Fridays when he’s gone, and I use his computer to research things. I never touch the computer when he’s home. He thinks I don’t know how to use it.
“It’s very dark,” Brian comments as he opens the car door. He leaves the headlights on and comes around to my side to help me out.
I panic when I realize he intends to come inside with me. “You can wait out here.”
He takes my good hand and leads me toward the front of the cabin without comment. I guess he’s not willing to let me go in alone.
I’m mortified when I open the front door. I keep the cabin as tidy as possible, but everything we own is rundown and broken or torn. He can’t see it in the dark yet, but I hurry across the room and turn on the lamp next to the couch.
Brian doesn’t comment on the state of things. When he releases my hand, I hurry into the bedroom that’s mine. The cabin is very small. My room is more like a large closet. It barely holds my twin mattress and a small dresser. But it’s clean and it’s my haven.
My father rarely comes into my room. When he’s mad or wants something from me, he stands in the doorway and bellows loud enough that neighbors would hear if we had any.
I glance at Brian as he reaches around to run his hand on the wall inside my room. “Where’s the light switch, Little one?”
“There’s no light,” I murmur. I can make out his features from the lamp behind him.
“You don’t have a light in your room?”
I shake my head before I cover my mouth and cough. I always start coughing when I return to this cabin. It’s musty and nasty and filled with smoke.
He pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight, illuminating the space. “How long have you had that cough, sweet girl?”
I shrug. “Since my father started smoking in the house.”
“We need to get that looked at.” He smiles encouragingly. “Do you have a bag you can put some things in, sweet girl?”
I shake my head again. I didn’t think of that. And then I remember my old school bag and rush over to the closet to pull it out of the back corner. I hold it up triumphantly.
He smiles broader. “Good girl. Be quick, Little one. You don’t need to bring clothes. I’ll get you new things. Just grab what’s special to you. Maybe you have some pictures of your mom?”
I reach into the back of the closet again with my good hand and pull out my special box. It’s all I have of my mom. My father threw away almost everything when we moved, but I snuck several things into my belongings and hid them in this box.
I rush over to my dresser and yank the bottom drawer open. It sticks because it’s not on the tracks. I pull out my favorite clothes, the ones I wear when I go to the Dungeon. I open the next drawer and stare into it. My clothes are tattered and embarrassing.
Brian steps into the room and squats down next to me. He tucks a finger under my chin and turns my face toward his. “We’ll get you new clothes, Lacey. All you need is mementos.”
I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I’m confused. I drop down onto my bottom and wince because it hurts to sit on the hardwood floor. I can’t do this. What am I thinking? My father would kill me if he knew I brought someone to the house. He would kill me just for leaving the house if he ever found out about it.
“You should go,” I murmur, staring at the floor. I cough again.
“No, Lacey. I’m not leaving you here.”
