The young woman who watches my sister fall apart and put herself back together. Who stayed by her side without flinching once.
And now this…
I don't know what the fuck Daisy will think of it. Only that I can't fuck that up. They both deserve better.
I move through my morning routine. Head downstairs to the smell of coffee and the sizzle of bacon.
Dad's at the stove in his gym clothes. Sweaty from one of his long workouts. Cooking.
Huh. It's been awhile since we've shared a Sunday morning. Usually, I…
When I was drinking, I'd take a girl to brunch. Women love brunch. And Luna was right. It's a socially acceptable time to get buzzed.
Watch a pretty girl drink mimosas or listen to my dad's bullshit?
Easy choice.
The last few weeks…
Well, I've been avoiding him. Avoiding that judgmental look in his eyes.
The same one that's there right now.
"Breakfast?" he asks.
"Yeah. Thanks." I suck a breath through my teeth. Flit through the list of possible reasons for his judgment. There's the usual—do better at your sobriety, why did you fuck up. Then not calling Daisy enough. Not talking to him enough. Not keeping an eye on Luna.
My eyes flit to the stairs. I can't see the hallway from here. I don't know if her bedroom door is open. If it was obvious she didn't sleep in her bedroom.
If it's obvious we fucked last night.
I haven't showered yet. I didn't want to wash the smell of her off me. But, fuck, that might mean—
"Sunny-side up with toast?" he asks.
"Yeah, thanks." I move into the kitchen like everything is normal. Pour a cup of coffee. Add a little cream and extra sugar.
He watches as I add a second spoonful. "You didn't used to take it so sweet."
"Shit changes." It's true, the adage about alcoholics trading booze for caffeine and sugar.
He nods it does. "How is it going?"
Where the hell do I start with that? I take a sip. Focus on the rich taste. Dark and nutty with a full body.
And extra what the fuck are you screwing up now?
No. Maybe it doesn't have to be that way. Like the look on Luna's mom's face. She's trying her best. Just fucking it up.
Maybe Dad has good intentions.
"What do you mean?" I inhale the smell of java. Catch a hint of Luna's shampoo. For a second, my skin flushes. My head fills with flashes of her. Then I see my dad flip a slice of bacon and take a step backward.
"It's not a trick question."
It's hard to believe that. "Been busy. Working a lot."
"Avoiding Luna?"
I shrug like that's not the case.
"Did something happen between the two of you?"
Yeah, but not what he's asking. Or maybe that is what he's asking. Either way, I can't fill him in on the details. "What do you mean?"
"Oliver, I'm not trying to trap you. I just want to know how you're doing."
"Good." I take another sip. Move to the table. Sit as casually as possible. "I'm good."
He nods okay. Turns his attention to his cooking. Because he accepts my answer? Or because he's waiting to strike?
I try to put it out of my mind as I sip my coffee. At the moment, life is good. I'm fifty feet from a gorgeous woman with a smile that lights up the room. And she wants to fuck me as much as I want to fuck her.
And I'm going to fuck her the second I can.
If Dad ever leaves the house.
Okay. That's a conversation. One that moves the needle away from whatever he's getting at. "Work is really good, actually. And being here so long, I have a lot saved."
He nods sure.
"Been thinking about moving out."
He makes that hmmm noise that means I know best and we both know it isn't that. (The man is very talented with his hmms. He packs a lot into them. Always something about how I'm fucking up but he won't call me on it. Yet).
"There're only two weeks now."
Another hmmm.
"I'm doing well."
"Staying in your room."
Yeah, but not because I can't function without alcohol. Because I can't stay near Luna without touching her. Not that I can tell him that. "Because I'm busy with mock-ups."
He says nothing. Just places the bacon on a plate. Drains the grease.
"I've been working out a lot."
He nods. Puts four slices of bread in the toaster.
"And I've been… hanging out with Luna. Making sure she's doing okay."
"Is she?"
"Mostly. It's hard. Her entire life is changing. Her normal routine is gone and she doesn't really have anyone nearby who gets it."
"It's good. That you're helping her." His voice is even. Free of implication.
But I hear it anyway. It would be good. If you were only helping her. How did you feel when your best friend helped your sister with his cock? And now you're doing the same thing. Hmm…