What Are The Chances (Phil-U #2)

35 Hello to you too, peach

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Hello to you too, peach

RILEY

“Where are you?” dad said in way of greeting.

Hello to you too, peach. I’d had a missed call from him for every mile I’d run. Six so far.

“Running,” I answered.

“Where?”

“Past campus.”

I was doing a ten-mile round loop which involved passing campus.

“Stop by,” he said.

It was an order if ever there was one. Dad had never learnt to ask nicely.

I slowed, reaching out to rest against a light pole. “Why are you on campus?”

“Wanted to get some work done while it was quiet.”

How depressing, spending your Sunday morning working. Then again, I found a lot of things about his life depressing. The guy was a workaholic. The only thing he had going on for him outside of work was his girlfriend, but I couldn’t imagine them spending quality time together. They had barely anything in common. The girl was closer in age to Tanner and me.

“You’re alone?” I cautiously checked.

“Yes. See you soon.”

He ended the call, leaving no word for argument. With a resound sigh I altered my route. My legs felt heavier now they were taking me to dad’s office. I’d rather tack on two extra miles than deal with him today .

I contemplated calling Tanner, but apart from the temporary relief I’d get venting about dad, he couldn’t do anything. He was too far away to keep me company. Lucky guy.

Pushing open the building doors, I walked straight to dad’s office without taking a detour. It was quiet in here, as expected for a Sunday. Most other staff had lives. Dad seriously needed to get one.

Not that I was one to talk. I’d spent Saturday night alone on the couch, but that was because my hangover was up there with my ten worst hangovers of all time. I’d barely been able to keep water down. Damn tequila shots, and damn whatever admissions they’d caused me to admit to Will.

Dad looked up from his computer screen when I appeared in the doorway, pausing whatever he was watching. “You’re wet.”

“It’s raining.”

“You shouldn’t run in the rain, Riley.”

I always found it ironic when he played the concerned parent card nowadays. Harsh, but a reality. He’d missed too many years of monumental moments to show concern now.

“What’s up?” I deflected.

“I didn’t catch you or Tanner after the game last weekend.”

“We slipped out quickly. We had plans.”

“I’d been hoping we could all get dinner.”

“You didn’t mention anything about dinner.”

Dad leant back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I assumed it was implied.”

I had veered off course for no good reason. This man was infuriating. This conversation wasn’t worth ruining my running stats.

“After fifteen years of no dinners, you’ll have to forgive us for not knowing better.”

I immediately regretted the cruel and catty remark. Blame my warped brain. It was still hazy from Friday night and from waking up with Will Caufield wrapped around me, warming every inch of my skin and soul.

“That’s not fair, Riley.”

Wasn’t it? Something that infuriated me about Dad was his ability to make me feel guilty for having these feelings. He’d checked out for practically my entire childhood. Just because he’d decided he had the energy to play dad now, it didn’t seem fair that I had to jump excitedly and forgive him for all the missed milestones.

I forced calmness into my voice. “How about you figure out a night you’re free, and Tanner and I will be there?”

Dad nodded stoically. That was as good as it was going to get. Nodding back, I turned to leave, but he called out my name .

“How is your final assessment going?”

“Fine.”

“You never mentioned which Phil-U athletes you were working with.”

No, I hadn’t. Purposely. I didn’t need dad meddling.

“You wouldn’t know them.” I edged away from the doorway. “Text me a time and date. I’ll get Tanner there.”