novelxo Twisted Collide: Chapter 19
A host of errands for the team has kept me busy the past few days. My tasks seemed more grueling today, so I’m happy work is over. I’m exhausted and ready to fall into bed.
It’s hard to concentrate as I drive back to my father and Sherry’s house. I keep having to shake my head to wake up.
Probably isn’t safe for me to drive, but I have no option as long as I live and work with the team.
You could always ride to work with your father.
The man has offered this to me every chance he’s gotten, which isn’t often since I’m basically avoiding him like the plague.
A huge part of me knows I’m being a baby over this whole thing. I should just sit down with him and ask him all the damn questions I have, but the small voice inside of me that says, “You won’t like his answer,” is too scared to broach the topic. My time here is too long to risk it. What will I do if he tells me that he knew about me and chose not to meet me until I was fully grown?
That’s the thing that terrifies me the most. It’s very easy to acknowledge a daughter once she’s no longer a child and thus not a burden.
I barely survived knowing I was a burden to my mom; how would I survive knowing he thought I would be a burden too?
The low volume of the music in my car is so loud as I drive that I realize when I roll to a stop at the light that I missed a text.
Looking around, I figure I have a few more seconds before the light turns, so I decide to check who texted.
It’s my father. Speak of the devil.
Sperm Donor: If you’re free for dinner, we’d love to have you. Dane is coming.
Of course he is. Why am I even surprised? Sperm donor’s golden boy.
I’m torn.
The stubborn part of me doesn’t want to go.
But the part of me that stays up at night thinking of him doesn’t want to pass up the opportunity to see him.
Tired or not, I could rally for that.
I wish I had someone to talk to. Anyone.
But I don’t.
All my friends have gone their own way, and my mom . . . well, we don’t have that type of relationship. Never have.
Sure, I love her, and she’s been the only parent I’ve ever had, but she’s strict.
The only time we ever talked about boys went something like, me joking that it was time we talked about the birds and the bees and her reluctantly agreeing. When I was in middle school, I thought it was time. Her response was to keep my damn legs shut.
Good talk.
Yeah, needless to say, that was the last time I ever brought up anything having to do with sex.
I think it should be obvious that I was traumatized by that one statement.
Now, older, I’ve never been able to confide in her, and it’s sad.
I guess her answer makes more sense now that I think about it.
She probably regrets getting pregnant with me, seeing as my father was never around, and that’s the only thing she’s ever said about sex. I have to assume she wishes she had made that choice for herself.
And with that thought, my mood plummets, and all those nasty insecurities bubble to the surface.
Before I know it, I’m pulling up to the house. I still haven’t made a decision on whether I’m going to dinner or not.
Is this a regular thing?
Dane at dinner?
I did notice they were really close the last time he was here. That, coupled with the dad comment, makes me think they are, but they barely speak at practice. Then there’s the whole part about him being made my keeper.
But I guess it makes sense that they don’t talk in public. There can be no favorites on a team. He needs to ensure he comes across as impartial.
As I sit here in the driveway, my heart hammers heavily in my chest. Like a shot of adrenaline, I’m no longer tired. Energy courses through my body.
Normally, when I come here, I go straight to the backyard and head to the guesthouse, but today, I’ll enter from the main door.
I didn’t bring the key my father gave to me, but it’s fine. I’ll simply knock.
What’s tonight going to be like?
Awkward after our last interaction? Maybe he’ll be nice. He’ll have to be, to a certain degree, in front of my father.
The sky has become dark, and the air feels heavy. It almost has an ominous feeling.
Great, that doesn’t bode well for the evening.
I’m about to knock on the door when I hear the sound of a car over the gravel driveway and then footsteps a few seconds later.
I don’t need to turn around to know who it is, not just because it makes sense but also because I can smell his delicious cologne.
The scent is crisp and decadent. All male perfection.
The door flings open, and my father stands there looking out at us with a strange expression.
His gaze darts back and forth between us, but he doesn’t seem disturbed. More along the lines of . . . happy? Why would he be happy? If only he knew the truth. Things would be very different for Dane and me.
I’d probably be shipped right back home, no job and no experience, never to see him again.
“Did you guys come together?” he asks, a bit of uncertainty in his voice.
“What? No.” Dane steps to the side and points. “See both cars.”
Jeez, can he sound any more sus?
This man is basically holding a sign that says, I banged your daughter, and I don’t know how to keep a lid on it.
If I weren’t worried about how tonight was going to go, I’d find this whole thing funny.
But I’m actually worried.
The more I think about the ramifications of being found out, the more nervous I become. I’m bringing on even more anxiety, and if I don’t reel it in quickly, I’ll have a panic attack.
I don’t want to go back to my mom’s.
I need this job.
You want to know your father.
Ugh . . . I’m not going there right now.
I try my hardest not to spend time with Sherry or Robert, but no matter what I tell myself, I have to face the facts. It’s out of self-preservation. If I don’t let them in, they can’t hurt me.
We all walk into the house together, and my father leads the way to the dining room.
The table is already set. The last time we were here, I sat next to Dane. It appears I’ll be doing the same tonight.
Fun for me.
Most likely hell for him.
The idea of torturing him brings me a little joy today, and I’m happy about it because it means I’m not thinking of the big elephant in the room, and I’m not talking about the fact we had sex. I’m talking about the fact that I’ve been living here for over a month and have yet to speak with my father about the things Sherry told me I should talk to him about.
I guess I’m scared. No matter how strained my relationship is with Mom, what he says could cause an even bigger rift. Then who would I have?
Nobody.
I’d be completely alone.
Sherry walks over to the table and lifts a bottle in the air. “Who’s drinking?”
“Me,” I say, lifting my hand like an idiot.
“I’ll have a glass, please.” This comes from Dane, and it’s said with an edge that annoys me.
As if the only way to get through this night is with alcohol.
You’re not any better.
She pours each of us a glass. Once mine is filled, I take a sip. The taste hits my tongue, and I welcome it.
This is what I need to get through tonight.
Or maybe another distraction. Maybe I should stick to my original plan and make Dane pay attention to me.
A distraction named Dane Sinclair seems like what the doctor ordered.
Not a good idea, Josie.
But the train has already left the station. I’m all in, even if it’s going to crash and burn.