I hang up the phone and dart across the lot for my car. The lot is always either locked up or under supervision—usually both, I suspect—so I’m not surprised to find the doors unlocked and the keys in the glove box. Most people aren’t stupid enough to mess with the club. Before anyone notices what I’m doing, I start her up and peel out of the lot, heading for the Jennings’ house.
Though it’s a short drive, I find myself starting to panic on my way there. It’s not a fear of what I might walk in on—it’s a fear of disappointing my dad. I didn’t think of him when I tried to take out Leo, but maybe I should have. The overwhelming need to talk to him hits me like a ton of bricks, and before I can stop myself, I’m dialing his cell phone.
“This better be good news, Mr. Buckley,” Dad says.
I laugh, once again having forgotten that I have Ian’s phone, not mine.
“Hi, Daddy.” I sound like a freaking child. It’s so ridiculous how I get around my dad. Before he can even respond, I’m pulling to the side of the road, a few houses down from the Jennings’ house.
“Baby girl,” he says with a smile in his voice. “Phone must have broke and that’s why you haven’t called your old dad.”
“I miss you.”
“What’s wrong, baby girl? That man of yours hurt you?”
“No, I just needed to hear your voice.”
“Well, something’s upset my favorite girl.” I try not to but end up crying. My mom and I may not be very close, but Dad and I have always had a bond. I don’t know that I realized how important having him in my life is until right now. It’s weird, how different my two favorite men are and yet how similar at the same time.
“We need to talk soon. I have some things I have to tell you some things about me that you’re not going to like.” My voice catches and I sniffle. I’ll never tell Dad what I’m doing here, but I need to tell him about who I used to be. I’m tired of hiding things from him, being terrified that he won’t love me because of it.
“Are you crying, kiddo?” Dad’s at work, I can tell from the background noise. He moves to a quieter place, telling one of his coworkers he needs a few minutes alone. Everything is quiet on the other end for a long moment before he’s back to talking. “You say it when you’re ready, baby girl. But if this is about what I think it is, I already know. Known for a long time now. I’m just sorry you didn’t think you could lean on me for support.”
Shame fills me at his comment. How could I ever doubt that my dad would be there for me? Why didn’t I think I could trust him?
“I’m sorry,” is the only thing I can manage. I’m full on sobbing now, so undeserving of his love. I’m sorry for more than not reaching out to him for support. I’m sorry for being an addict. I’m sorry for destroying my life. I’m sorry for everything except for what I’m about to do.
“Don’t be sorry, kiddo. Nothing’s ever gonna stop you from being my favorite girl, you got that?”
“Got it.” We hang up shortly after that, and with tears still wet on my cheeks, I get out of the car and head for the Jennings’ house. I barely make it up the driveway when the front door opens, and Ryan is standing there, with his arms crossed and a grim look on his face.
“Get your ass inside or put a fucking ad in the paper that we’re here,” he says, barking at me.
“Like anybody reads the paper anymore.” I rush into the house. I’ve never been here before, but I know my mother has a few times. It’s hard to imagine her in the space as it is now. Furniture is turned over, months and months of dust has created a thick film on everything, and there’s the distinctly potent smell of gasoline that nearly chokes me.
“Shouldn’t be here,” Ryan says, locking the door behind me. He comes up beside me with a sick grin on his face. “Gonna piss him off. The man’s an artist when he’s pissed.”
“I need to be here, Ryan,” I say quietly. He meets my eyes, challenging me the same way he did the last time we had a heart-to-heart. “Ian thinks I won’t like his darker side, that seeing him like this will send me running.”
“You’ll look at him differently,” he says. There’s a hint of fear in his voice that betrays his hard-ass exterior, and I’m reminded how much Ryan loves his brother.
“I want to know this side of him, and I want him to see the darker side of me.”
Chapter 22
We don’t say anything else as we head up to the second floor and into the master bedroom. Jeremy and Grady stand in the center of the room, their eyes intent on what lies ahead. When they hear us coming up behind them, they both turn around, and I can see all hell is about to break loose. Ryan spares me the trouble of pleading with them for their silence when he shakes his head and whispers, “Don’t.”