I felt like a zombie climbing up the stairs to my bedroom, Daddy and Brittany helping me the whole way. Daddy stopped at the door while Brittany followed me into the bedroom, helping me with my clothes. "I'm sorry I was so strict with you, Abby," Brittany said after the door closed and we were alone. "I didn't mean to make you run away."
"It's okay, Brittany," I said, too tired to say much more. "I just . . . I need to sleep."
"I understand, honey," she said, tucking me into bed. She sat down next to me, brushing the stray hairs out of my face. "I know that I come off as a bitch to you, Abby. I'm sorry about that. I never had a daughter of my own before. But I do love you, and I want to at least be your friend. I'll never try to replace your mother."
"Thank you," I whispered, my eyes drooping. "I know you care."
I didn't hear her answer as the black curtain of sleep started to fall over me and I descended into my dreams.
* * *
By the time I woke up, afternoon had come, as evidenced by the bright light that poured through the windows to the left of my bed. Atlanta's a warm city, even in winter, so my bedroom faced west to minimize the amount of sunlight that came through the glass during the day. With the way my bed was arranged, that put the main window off to my left.
I yawned, feeling myself remarkably refreshed and much better than the weepy, sobbing wreck that had been put to bed hours earlier. Stretching, I thought about the conversation that I would have to have with them, but I was more prepared for it than I had been that morning.
I looked down at myself, not realizing how much Brittany had helped me get changed. I was still wearing the same panties as the night before, but I had on one of my sleep t-shirts and a pair of my old cheerleading shorts that I still wore for sleep and exercise. I went over to my dresser and peeled my shorts off, changing into a pair of pink boy shorts that matched a t-shirt bra that I liked to wear around the house. There was no need to make Daddy feel embarrassed.
I looked at the panties in my hand, seeing a faint bit of dried mess from the night before, and sighed. I wasn't so much panicked anymore as I was ashamed. I'd acted like a total slut, practically jumping on Dane's cock as soon as it was out of his pants. A few tattoos, a little bit of a bad boy vibe to him, and I melted right into his hands . . .
And the way those eyes looked at me when he touched me, the voice in my head said in his defense. Face it, you were falling for him.
I was, but that doesn't mean I need to keep it up, I bitterly said to myself. I balled up the panties and threw them into the hamper. Much like the night before, I scored, this time two points.
I headed downstairs and found Daddy and Brittany in the living room. Daddy saw me first and turned off the television, which had been showing a Braves game. "Good to see you awake, sweetheart," he said, setting his remote aside and standing up. "How do you feel?"
"A lot better, thank you," I said. "And thank you, Brittany. I saw that you helped me change. Honestly, I don't remember much of that part."
"You were pretty exhausted, Abby. Come now, have a seat."
I rubbed my stomach, thinking. "What time is it?"
"Just after two, sweetie," Daddy said. "You look famished."
I shook my head. "No, Daddy. I think I can wait until dinner time. That is, if you guys don't mind eating a little earlier than normal?"
"I don't think that'll be a problem, dear, but how about a glass of milk at least?" Brittany asked. She stood up, then stopped. "Sorry. I've been thinking, and I feel like I owe you an apology. I feel like a lot of what caused last night are my suggestions to you."
I took a deep breath, having a seat on the couch. It had taken a lot for Brittany to say what she had to me in my room. It had been just the two of us. There hadn't been a need to show off to Daddy. Her words had come from the heart. "Brittany, I'll admit that there was a part of me that got up because of that. I had an overwhelming need to rebel. But that wasn't all of it."
I took a deep breath and looked at Daddy. "Part of it was you. I know you love me. And I know you want what's best for me. But Daddy, I can't keep living inside the bubble you've built for me. And as much as it may pain you, I'm not cut out for the world that Brittany is so familiar with."
His face pinched, and Brittany had a worried look, but both of them held a respectful silence as I continued. "I'm not cut out to be a debutante! Nor am I the type of girl who enjoys putting on a thousand-dollar dress to drive over to Camden in April to hobnob at the Carolina Cup only to have some frat boy from Duke end up puking all over it. I'm blue jeans and t-shirts, and during the summer, sometimes I like wearing Daisy Dukes and a blouse."