“And when’s that going to be?” I cry.
She lets out a heavy sigh. “I’ll let you know when I know.”
A few hours later, I lay awake in my bed with my eyes red raw and sore. My chest aches and my sobs are still coming in heavy. All I’ve done since the words came out of mom’s mouth is ask myself over and over again what it is that I’ve done wrong? Did I say something wrong? Did I not make him feel wanted here? Because I do, I want my daddy so bad. I need him. He’s my dad. Why didn’t he fight harder to stay? The last time there was an ‘emergency’ they took him away for ten months. What’s it going to be this time? A year? Two?
He’s the guy who taught me to ride a bike. He was there every time I needed him and now he’s not? How could he just turn his back on that? And my mom? She just buried her mother and now she’s lost her husband to his job… again.
The thought of not seeing him kills me. I love him so much, but right now, I hate him. I hate him more than when Nate would make me feel small and humiliated. I hate him more than Josh Henderson and Jackson Millington combined. I know things have never been great with dad, but in the end, he’s still my dad.
Rattling sounds at my window and I sit up with a gasp to find two brown eyes staring in. I clamber out of my bed and cross the room in a matter of seconds, desperate to get him inside and have his arms wrap securely around me.
I get the window open and he climbs in with a grin. “I knew you’d forget to unl-”
I dive into him, cutting him off and slam my head against his chest. His arms instantly curl around me, holding me tight. “Hey,” he says, pulling back so he can look down and see my face. “What’s wrong?”
I look up and meet his eyes, and instantly he knows it’s something bad. My eyes well as I prepare myself to say it out loud for the first time. “It’s dad,” I tell him as the tears fall from my eyes. “He’s be reassigned. He’s not coming back.”
“Fuck,” Nate curses before his arm scoops under my legs. He lifts me into his arms and carries me over to my bed before climbing in beside me. I curl around him and lay my head on his chest where he holds me until the tears finally run their course.
Chapter 13
Mom had been home from Australia for all of a week when an envelope from dad’s work arrived in the mail and it’s been sitting on the kitchen table for three days now, unopened and untouched. Both of us not wanting to know what horrors hide inside. Last time we got one of these envelopes, dad had no idea about it
“You’ve got to open it,” I tell mom as we sit around the table, staring at the stupid thing.
“No,” she says. “You open it.
“I’m not opening it. He’s your husband.”
“He’s your father,” she snaps back.
I let out a groan and push myself up from the table. “Where do you think you’re going?” she says. “I told you, neither one of us are leaving this table until it’s done.”
“I’m getting something to drink,” I tell her as I walk straight past the kitchen and to dad’s alcohol cabinet in search of the expensive stuff. “What do you think?” I call as I survey the options. “Whiskey, rum, bourbon or vodka?”
“I am not getting wasted with my seventeen year old daughter,” she calls back.
“Vodka it is,” I say, reaching in and grabbing the pretty bottle. I see a couple of shot glasses on top and decide to go without. I have a feeling we’ll probably go through the whole bottle, swigging from the top. I mean, I know I’ve missed three weeks of school and I’m supposed to be going back in the morning, but this seems a little more important. I can deal with the consequences tomorrow.
I walk back out to mom and put the bottle down on the table. “Drink up,” I tell her.
She looks horrified at the bottle I’ve put before her. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Mom,” I say, using a scolding tone that she usually reserves for me. “Opening this letter is going to suck. For both of us,” I tell her before indicating to the bottle. “We’re going to need this. Come tomorrow, we can pretend that it never happened.”
She narrows her eyes, deep in thought before surprising the hell out of me and launching forward before grabbing the bottle. “Fine, but not a word about this to anyone. I don’t need those bitchy Country Club mothers looking down on me for getting drunk with my teenage daughter, and besides, if you tell anyone, I’ll tell them you’re lying.”