11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Summer
It took me an hour to get home. Thankfully, the dirt was soft enough that tire marks were left in the wide path, so I followed those and made it back to the road within twenty minutes. I could have let Alec drive me home or back to Walmart but I didn’t feel right taking up more time than I had, even though we both seemed to really enjoy each other’s company.
More time means more feelings will sprout, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.
When I open the door, Dad is waiting for me. He’s leaning against the kitchen door frame. He has his police uniform on. The badge is popping out from how tightly his hands are gripping his belt. There’s concern written all over his face.
My heart sinks, thinking that maybe I should have told him I was alright.
“Where have you been?” he asks in a deeper tone.
I walk past him into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge.
“I was with a friend.” Which is true, if Alec is considered a friend.
I take a sip of my water, twisting the cap back on when Dad asks, “Chloe?”
I contemplate telling him it was Alec, but my mind travels back to how Dad viewed him, and something unsettling grows in my belly, causing me to swallow aggressively.
My eyes blink more times than I’d like, my nerves clawing at my insides. “Yeah,” I lie.
His lips morph into a pin-straight line, and he eyes me with furrowed brows. He knows I’m lying. I can feel it.
When he nods, I feel better. That is, until he says, “That’s funny, seeing as I saw Chloe a few hours ago.” I try to keep the shock from my face. “Which leads me to question where. Were. You?” he adds through clenched teeth.
A snort vibrates through me, and I didn’t mean for it to slip out, but there was no way I could hold it in. My laugh fades quickly as my eyes soak him in, conflicted with how he could go from sitting upstairs with me, pouring his heart out to the man before me.
Is he serious?
I studied him a bit longer. It would have been easier to tell him the truth from the start, but I knew that wouldn’t have gone over well either. I am kind of stuck at this point.
Finally, I decide to be honest. “I was with my friend Alec.”
His body tightens, jaw locking. “You lied to me.”
I clear my throat, running my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
“Save it, Summer. You live under my roof. You follow my rules. That boy is trouble. I don’t need him to take you down with him.”
Anger bubbles inside of me. Alec is far from trouble. If anything, he’s been nothing but caring and sweet to me. My eyebrows furrow, growing with concern. Dad’s lips part, but then he closes them again.
I look down at the floor for a second before looking back up at Dad. “What is it you have against Alec? It seems that you are judging him instead of you know… getting to know him.”
“I know enough about him, Summer. Now, stay away from him,” he demands.
Suddenly, I think about Dad’s face when he saw us at the cafe. Then it clicks. My father doesn’t like Alec because of his record. Of course, Dad would know about it. It wouldn’t matter if Alec was set up. His case file says it all. He was found with drugs and arrested, multiple times. Then my mother… Dad knew she was addicted to drugs.
My heart dips lower, knowing that he’s only looking out for me. The way a father should look out for his daughter.
“Alec isn’t a bad person, Dad. If you just talk to him and hear his story...”
“Enough!” I jump from the raise of his voice. “You are not allowed to see him again. Do you understand me?”
My eyebrows crease. “Dad, I’m not a little kid anymore…”
His chuckle is short and deep. “In this house, you follow my rules.”
My lips part, wanting to fight back, but I close my mouth instead. It’s clear I’m not changing his mind. At least not anytime soon.
His phone rings, breaking up the tension between us. I look away, hugging myself closely. Dad takes his phone out of his pocket, looks at the screen and walks away without another word.
From where I’m standing, I can see him. The look on his face brings concern out of me. I can tell it’s a work matter. It’s always a work matter. That’s been his normal routine since Mom passed.
Dad’s fingers run through his near-gray hair, and he grips the back of his neck. I guess I’m not the only one who has upset him.
My eyes follow the motion of his chest as he takes a deep breath. When he hangs up the phone, I quickly avert my gaze, lean against the wall, and look out the kitchen window so it doesn’t look as though I was eavesdropping. Not that I was, but it’ll certainly look that way.
Dad clears his throat. “I have to head…”
“Back to the office.” It’s not a question but an ‘I already knew that’ statement.
He drops his head, and I think he actually feels bad that he’s leaving. “The funeral is tomorrow. I’ll be home. We can catch up more.” He kisses the top of my head and leaves.
Then, the house is so quiet that it’s like I can hear my own thoughts out loud. In all honesty, it’s hard to tell what are my thoughts and what are my words. I feel so clouded lately, with Mom, and how Dad is acting. I don’t let that bother me much. At this point, I’m pretty used to it. I need to focus on myself.
***
A couple of hours go by as I flip aimlessly through the channels on the TV, looking for something to watch, but everything reminds me of how much I screwed my entire life up.
Each show consists of schools, great jobs, or successful families.
I get to the point where I shut the TV off, toss the remote on the coffee table, and lean my head back for a minute before pulling out my phone to text Chloe.
Are you busy? I could really use some company.
I hate admitting that. There has not been one day I needed Chloe—or anyone for that matter—to be there for me the way I need right now. I’ve always been the one to comfort others and hold the pieces together. The bubbles appear in the corner, and a swooshing sound comes through as Chloe responds.
I’m stuck at work until ten tonight. Is everything alright?
I stare at her response for a beat before speeding my fingers across my screen.
Yeah. No, I mean. I am OK. I just didn’t feel like being alone again. Are you coming tomorrow?
Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Gotta go. My boss is not happy.
At least I won’t be alone at Mom’s funeral. I lock my phone and groan dramatically. Throwing my head back, I stride up to my room, close the door, and slip into something comfortable so I can try and sleep until the morning.