Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Rubbing his hand over the side of my head, he digs his fingers into my hair. “I graduated, so unless he knows how to have my diploma revoked, he can’t touch me.”
I blink and hold my eyes closed a moment longer as my father’s threat comes floating back to me. When I reopen them, I’m met with his eyes set so intensely on mine that his concern radiates in that gaze. “I knew you would graduate one way or the other. I was worried about the threat of a felony, though.” Waffling my head back and forth, I add, “I don’t know if he’s truly that evil, but I also wouldn’t put anything past him anymore. If he’ll treat me—”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” One of my hands is released, but I grip onto his other. “What felony?”
“The champagne. He told you that, right? When did you return my phone? He told me he had you on video stealing the champagne.” Looking down, I shake my head. “We both know you weren’t stealing it.” I look up at him only to be met with anger tingeing his eyes and pressing his lips together. “Keats?”
He turns away from me and walks to the window to look out. His head is dipped forward, his hand sliding slowly through his hair. I want to go to him and wrap my arms around his middle to comfort him. I move closer but pause, careful not to touch as if he’ll break if I do. I whisper, “He told me he would report it as a crime to have you arrested if I saw you again. But you two argued as well? What did he say to you?”
He looks over his shoulder but doesn’t give me the full view of his eyes, only the corners. “I thought your father was just another asshole.” He rips his gaze away, letting it drift through the window. When he crosses his arms over his chest, I can see the rise and fall of his chest from his heavy breaths. “Even categorizing him as overprotective of his only daughter.”
Turning around, he just looks at me as if he finally sees my father for who he is. I know that look. Disappointment. Anger. Resolve. Revenge. Acceptance. I’ve felt all these emotions and more, separately and all at the same time. Nothing ever changes.
He says, “He doesn’t care about you.”
“No, he doesn’t.” I drop my head in the shame my father cultivated to keep the upper hand.
There’s a sudden desperation in the way he cups my face. “He uses you to get his way. He’ll hurt you to get what he wants. Fuck, Sosie. Your father is an asshole, but really, he’s a monster.” He hugs me to him and whispers, “I don’t know how you stayed so strong for so long. You’re really incredible, you know that?”
I smile against him even though he can’t see it. It’s not for him, though. It’s for me. To have someone validate my feelings wasn’t something I knew I needed.
In the years we’ve known each other, I’ve watched him turn from a guy with boyish charm to a man who owns every inch of his body and every decision he makes and stands by them with conviction. Fear doesn’t seem to be something he carries even when under threat. Though this is so much emotional exertion, I breathe a sigh of relief because I know we’re on the same side of this scenario. “What did he say to you?”
He sits on the chair, falling back as if he’s feeling the same weight lifted. “He threatened to end my scholarships and get me kicked out of school.” He scoffs, a laugh seemingly too far from finding humor in the situation. I sit across from him on the edge of the bed again. This time, no hard feelings are getting in the way, no nerves to tiptoe over so we don’t hurt one another. The truth is finally coming out, and the lights shining down reveal that we were both played as much as the other. “He told me he felt sorry for me and that you were only using me to get back at him.”
“That’s not true, Keats. I promise you. If . . .” I take a breath to collect my thoughts. Anger keeps tugging at my rationale to drag me into a fight with him, which I’d regret. I won’t let my father win. Not again. “If he hadn’t threatened you the way he did, I would have left that night.”
A smirk starts creeping up the right side of his face. “Where would you have gone?”
“Straight into your arms.” I can only imagine how different things could have been all these years if I hadn’t lost that battle with my father.
“His worst nightmare.” He pats his leg. “Come here.”