Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
“I wish you weren’t,” I whisper, my voice low.
“Why?” Lo is earnest, a genuine need to get to know me. But not just what kind of socks I like or how I take my eggs in the morning. He wants to know how I’m feeling. How I’m coping. How I’m going to wake up tomorrow and be okay.
He cares about me.
I’ve never really had that from…from…
Sucking in a sharp breath, I run my arm across my nose. But my snot dries when it hits the air. “I’m just not used to this,” I say.
He nods like he understands all of a sudden. “I know I haven’t been easy—”
“No, it’s not you,” I say. “I’m not used to this from…from…”
His gaze sinks into mine, and a realization slackens his shoulders. “From a parent?”
My jaw sets, trying not to cry. My eyes sear as I restrain emotion. Even nodding will admit what I don’t want to. That my parents don’t care about me—not really. Maybe they never did.
But maybe they could.
Maybe they’re starting to.
I end up choking out, “I’ve never needed it. Maybe at one point, when I was a kid, but…that time is long gone, you know?”
“No, I don’t know,” he shakes his head. “Because at twenty-nine, I still hoped my dad cared about me. I needed that from him up until the day he died.”
What Farrow once told me comes surging back, and I mutter, “It’s something I learned to live without then.”
Lo brushes a hand through his windswept hair, then reroutes the conversation. “When’s the last time you talked to your dad?”
“WOOOOOOO!” Cheering from inside cuts into our talk, and a quick glimpse of the TV, I see the Eagles scored but so did the Bills at some point. 14-17. I should be happy the Eagles are closing the lead, but Lo’s question occupies my focus.
“We talked this morning,” I tell him. “He asked me where I was gonna watch the game. I think he was planning on inviting me somewhere, but he didn’t when I said I’d be here.”
Lo adds slices of cheddar to the burgers. “Have you seen him?”
I nod. “Heaven’s Hoagies. Last week for lunch. I wore a wire for the cops.” They’ve been happy with my cooperation, and they’re still hoping to discover the motive behind the kidnapping. Not sure if I’ll ever uncover that sort of information from my dad. He’s too careful with his words, and he says he’s been told shit from uncles and cousins.
Sometimes I believe him.
Other times, I wonder if he’d even share more than I need to know.
Lo plates the burgers. “Hold that thought.” He’s quick to take the food inside, and when he returns, he’s carrying a few packs of hotdogs. I help toss them on the grill.
“Luna,” he starts. “She told me something about him.”
That sounds foreboding. “About my dad?”
Lo moves the hot dogs around the grate with a pair of tongs. He’s choosing his words carefully. “She overheard your dad talking to you on the phone. She wouldn’t tell me what exactly was said. Except that he’d like to meet me—”
“That’s not happening,” I cut in. “You’re not meeting him.”
He glares. “Let’s table it.”
“Nah, let’s burn it.”
“I’m not planning to lash out at him for what happened. I won’t push him to relapse.”
That’s not what I’m afraid of. I hadn’t even thought about that. I’m more so worried my dad will disappoint me and prove he’s just trying to gain a foothold into the wealth of the Hales.
I’m quiet.
Lo sighs, “That’s not what I wanted to bring up. Luna—she mentioned there was something else your dad said. She told me to ask you about it. So I’m asking you.”
Fuck.
Yeah, I know which conversation he’s referring to. It’s the only time Luna has overheard a phone call with my dad. We were in the car outside Thirsty Goose. Same night Greg Calloway died.
I narrow my eyes at the halftime show on the TV. “What he said was wrong,” I tell Lo. “It’s not who I am.”
“I had a dad who said some stuff that I’d never want reflected on me. Not in a million years. If you think I’ll judge you for who your father is, you’re wrong.”
“You’re still gonna be worried about your daughter being associated with me—”
“I’m not worried about that anymore, Paul. Look at where we are.”
“Out in the cold,” I say, still seeing my breath. “Freezing our asses off for some wieners.”
He makes an unamused face. “You’re so funny, I think I heard the dead bodies I buried laughing back here.”
I grin. “Good ears. Been told I have better ones though, and your dead friends aren’t chuckling hard enough.”
“I don’t have friends to bury.”
“How’d you know I want to be cremated?”
Lo smiles at that. “You think we’re friends?”
“Getting there.” My grin softens, remembering my goal. Be best friends with Loren Hale. It’s so close, I can taste it. That juicy scent of a burning hot dog.