My father runs his eyes over him, the same distaste leaking from them. But whereas a week ago, that kind of disapproval would have torn at my heart, now it does nothing.
He’s wrong.
My father is one-hundred-percent, totally wrong. About everything, it turns out.
“I thought you were everything,” I sob. “Everything I did, I wanted to make you happy. But Dax is a million times the man you are. You pretended to put me and Mom first, but it was a lie. Dax actually did put me first, and now that I know the truth, I’ll never fall for your lies again.”
My father’s face is ruddy, stricken. Before, I’d do anything to keep that look from his face. Now, I’m numb to it.
Dax wraps an arm around me and leads me back to the truck. I’m sobbing, oblivious to everything around me, but it’s all crystallizing in my mind. Why my mother looked as him as if she hated him. Why she told him he had no business lecturing me about Dax. Why she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him. My stomach is suddenly twisted in knots and I can’t breathe.
I’m not sure what happens during the next few minutes. All I know is that I end up at Dax’s house. He lifts me gently out of the cab of the truck and carries me up to his bedroom, where he places me on the bed and holds me close, letting me sob against his t-shirt until it’s soaked through. He doesn’t say a word at first, but he doesn’t have to. He just doesn’t leave, and that turns out to be all I need.
I fall asleep in his arms, and have nightmares of my father and the dark-haired woman, driving away from my mother and me. When I wake, he’s sitting on a chair across from me. “Hey,” he says. “We missed breakfast. You still hungry?”
I wrinkle my nose. No, I’m nauseated.
He sits down on the edge of the bed. “You want to talk about it?”
I shrug. “What’s there to talk about? My dad is a hypocritical asshole of the first degree. You saw that yourself. Everything I believed was a lie.”
“True. But don’t go too hard on him, Katydid,” he says. “It’s like, we’re all born thinking our parents can do no wrong, right? But sooner or later we find out that they’re human. I learned that lesson when I was six, when my dad came in drunk and smacked me across the face, and broke my tooth. Your dad kept up the illusion for twenty-two years. My hats off to him. He had a damn good run.”
How can he be so understanding and kind after the way my father treated him these past few years? I have to let out a little laugh, because I realize that character shows in time.
My father has shown his character, and Dax, one again—is showing what he’s made of. And it’s pretty good stuff.
“Was I just stupid?” I sigh.
“Nah. All it means that as far as parents go, you’ve got pretty good ones,” he says, smoothing my hair behind my ear. “And I saw that look in your eye, girl. Don’t do nothing stupid like disown him because of this, okay? Give it some time.”
Truthfully, I had been thinking of sending my father a strongly worded letter, telling him what an asshole he was and that I never wanted to see him again. I swallow and decide that maybe Dax is right. I need to think on it some more. I nod. “I think I am hungry, actually,” I tell him. “Do you have anything here? I don’t really want to go out.”
He stands. “You’re in luck. I just went shopping and the mutants haven’t raided the pantry yet. Bacon and eggs?”
I nod, my mouth watering, and manage a smile. He cooks, too? How did I get so lucky?
Chapter 15
Eric and Tom stalk around the side of the newly purchased building, looking pissed off. “This rat hole will take forever to fix up,” Tom says sullenly.
“Yeah. Like, how are we supposed to work on that? In our free time?” Eric snorts. “I’m not fucking giving up my one day a week off to come and clean up here.”
Dax punches his little brother’s arm. “God forbid your lazy ass gives up Cheetos and Xbox One Sunday, Turk.”
His brother scowls at him. I’ve been living at their house for the past week, and it’s true. Eric spends most of his free time in the living room, his butt plastered to the couch, drinking beer and eating junk food. The room would be covered with dirty dishes and fast food wrappers if it wasn’t for me and Dax. Tom is different, though. He’ll be the one who helps out the most. But if we have to deal with their murderous glances every time we talk about this place, we’re not going to get far.
Dax must know this, because he rubs the back of his neck nervously, then rolls his eyes to the sky, about half-a-step away from total defeat. It’s just been bitch-bitch-bitch since he told them his offer on this place had gotten accepted. He looks at me and I smile encouragingly.
“Sixty thousand dollars,” Tom mutters to the ground. “If we split it five ways, we would’ve each gotten over ten thousand dollars, dude. I could’ve gotten that Camaro I wanted in Hampton.”
“A fucking Camaro, Spar, really?” Dax snaps. “Why don’t you fix up that heap of shit Charger you just had to buy last year?”