Dad lowers himself into his big, leather office chair and leans back in it, scrutinizing me. It’s a tactic I’ve witnessed him use often. Quiet and that steady stare. Unnerve the other person into talking first. It might’ve worked when I was a teen, but not now. Besides, he called me here. I have no idea what I’m supposed to start spilling about.
We continue our visual showdown for several moments, and then he slightly straightens in his chair and clasps his fingers over his stomach.
“I’ll get right to the point, Lennon. There have been rumors going around town about you. And considering that little scene at Hunt Auto weeks ago, I have no reason to question them.”
That unease gels into flat out dread and it sinks to the bottom of my stomach like a weighted anchor.
“I’m guessing these rumors have something to do with me and King Sullivan,” I say, injecting a calm into my voice that I’m far, far from feeling.
“You know it does.” His volume doesn’t raise but the sharpness of the words scrapes across my senses all the same. “You haven’t been very discreet, although I’m sure you think you have been. People have seen you going back and forth to his home. Leaving there early in the morning or late at night. There’s only one reason for a woman to be at the house of a man like that, and I believed your mother and I raised you better than that. Or at the very least to have more respect for yourself than to be some drug addict’s plaything.”
Oh God, that hurt.
Using her mother was a deliberate, well delivered slap, and he’d used it for maximum damage. I breathe through the pain and the shame that tries to sneak in, infiltrate my heart, my conscience.
Closing my eyes, I push the red, pulsing ache away and focus on what I know. And I know the woman who birthed me, who raised me until I was fourteen had been the most loving, compassionate, non-judgmental person on this earth. And if she was alive today, she would want a piece of King for hurting me all those years ago, but she would never, ever look at me with condemnation in her eyes. She might caution me to be careful, but she would support me.
She would love me unconditionally. No strings. Hannah Ward had never been disappointed in me. In some of my behavior, yes. But not me. Her acceptance had been complete and without question.
Unlike Dad.
How dare he weaponize her memory against me.
Especially when he didn’t even honor their marriage vows before she left this earth.
“Dad,” I say, my heart pounding so hard I can barely hear my voice. “I respect you, and I love you. I don’t want to say anything that will damage our relationship, and I need you to give me the same courtesy. So leave Mom out of this.”
His brows slam down in a frown and he leans forward. “Lennon, calm down and don’t be ridiculous.”
“This is me calm. I haven’t raised my voice, and I resent you implying otherwise. Your problem with my behavior is just thatyour problem. It has nothing to do with Mom. And it’s beneath you to use her name and memory to drag an emotional response out of me. The same emotional response you want to demean me for.”
His chin snaps back toward his neck. “Excuse me?” He rolls his chair forward, flattening his palms on the desk. “I’m your father, and youwillwatch how you talk to me.”
“Dad, like I said, I don’t want to disrespect you. But you summoned me here. And in the time I’ve been here, you’ve called me a sneak, a disappointment and a drug addict’s plaything. It seems a little unfair that I have to watch how I talk to you, but you don’t have the same rule. I’m your daughter.”
“You are disappointing me.” It isn’t a shout but it echoes in the room like one. It reverberates in my head like one. It punches me in the chest like a fist. Only by sheer will do I remain upright in the chair. I mean, I knew this.Knewit. But hearing him say it aloud. My chest feels like it’s caving in. “This man is no good. He’s never been anything but trouble. Trash one step away from a jail cell or exactly where he ended up. Overdosing on some dirty hotel floor surrounded by other drugged out criminals. This is who you’re screwing around with? This is who you’d rather be with when you have a respectable, educated, successful man like Justin who’s willing to be your husband and not just use you like a toy until he throws you aside for the next woman? Because he will, Lennon. That’s what men like him do. You can’t really think you’re special to him. He might have bought a house here but he’s not staying. What is there in Pike’s End to entertain him? And when he leaves, where will you be? With the reputation as King Sullivan’s whore.”
“Are you finished?” I ask flatly.
He’s poked and jabbed at every insecurity I possess regarding King. It’s like he crawled inside my head and pried open the door to every concern hiding in the dark nooks. Am I exciting enough for a rock ‘n’ roll star who has been with actresses, models, other musicians, all gorgeous. And King talked about moving here to give his son a stable, safe home, but after living in California all these years, could he really settle down here in quiet, boring Pike’s End? What would hold him here? Nothing did ten years ago.
Not me.
“No, I’m not finished. Have you even considered the damage this causes to me? To my reputation? And what about your job? Do you think the school board will stand for your behavior? There’s a morality cause in your contract. And the parents in this town will have something to say about the teacher of their children sneaking out of a drug addict’s house at four o’clock in the morning.”
“He is not a drug addict. Was he one, yes? But he’s not one now. He’s been to rehab, he’s sober. He attends NA and AA meetings here in town. We all have pasts, Dad. But what we’ve done in the past shouldn’t define our present or future. For example, if someone cheated on his wife, that doesn’t mean they would cheat on a future wife or be deceitful or devious in other areas of their lives, would it?”
His face is stone, and we enter into another staring contest. I’ve never confessed my knowledge about his affair while Mom was sick; I kept his secret because I would never hurt her. But now I can practically feel him trying to determine the meaning behind my statement.
“And no one at the school has said anything to me about my private life because it’s none of their business what I do when I’m outside of that building if it’s not affecting my effectiveness as a teacher. And the only way they could know what I do with my aforementioned private life is if they’re having me followed.” I cock my head. “How about that, Dad? Because four a.m. is pretty specific.”
“I’m your father,” he repeats. “You and your welfare are my business. And when you’re putting both in harm’s way, it’s my responsibility to step in and steer you in the right direction. Whether you appreciate it or not.”
“I’m not twelve,” I grind out. “You can give me your opinion, yes. And I have the right to take that into account or not. But to impose your will or your view over mine? You’re crossing the line.” I sigh and hold up my hands. “I don’t want to fight with you, Dad. But who I’m with does not concern you. And if you can’t agree with my decisions, that’s okay, I understand that. But you can support me. You can decide not to penalize me for not falling into line.”
“If you expect me to stand by and watch you derail your life, you’re sadly mistaken. Now you have a decision to make. End this disgraceful behavior and get your priorities straight or you will force my hand. What will it be?”
Anger washes through me, temporarily dousing the hurt and disillusionment. Thank God. Because the fury strengthens me, while the other two have me wanting to curl up in my dad’s lap and be his little girl again. And we can’t turn back the hands of time. It’s just not possible.