Chapter 23
Bradford
“There are still no persons of interests being named in the fire involving a couple in Ridgecrest…”
I turn off the TV, and stand to my feet, my stomach feeling sick. I know there is a person of interest when it comes to this case. They just don’t want to name him…yet.
My head spins with the consequences looming on the horizon, and the timer is already running downward. All it takes is for Chief Wilkerson to point the finger in my direction, and Cade have another bad fucking day, and we’re all going down in one way or another.
Maybe that professor will press charges against me. Maybe they’ll search the farm and find the bodies. Maybe Turner will never get better. Maybe Cade will snap and so something even worse. Maybe I’ll fuck Jenna again.
I purse my lips at the last one. It makes my fucking dick hard.
Fuck me.
I make my way to the kitchen, and kick on the sink, waiting for the water streaming out of the faucet to grow warm before washing my hands. I don’t need to wash them, but it’s something to do, while I wait for Ben Knight to return my goddamn phone call.
“Dad!”
My front door bangs open right as I turn off the sink, and I don’t even flinch. It feels like I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop for fucking days now.
Molly’s voice comes out annoyed as she stumbles in. “Why is it so dark in here?” She flips on the light and then blinks as our eyes meet. She’s wearing a denim jacket over her sweatshirt, hair bundled up like she’s just rolled out of bed.
Which is definitely her normal.
She stomps into the kitchen, drops her backpack at the island, and goes about flicking on every light in the area around her. “Dad? What are you doing? It’s almost four in the afternoon.”
“Saving electricity, which is something you’d understand if you had to pay a bill,” I let out a chuckle.
She rolls her eyes at me. “Whatever.” She heads for my coffee pot then and starts the process of grabbing a new filter. “Dr. Williams will be here in like thirty minutes.”
I spin around, anxiety spiking in the form of my heartrate. “You don’t have tutoring on Tuesdays.”
She starts measuring out coffee grounds. “Uh huh… But I totally blew her off last week, and that was so rude of me—and I really want to do this essay contest. She’s so nice and is coming over today. I figured it’d be fine since you’re here.”
My jaw ticks. “No.”
Molly stops, some of the grounds spilling out onto the counter as she freezes mid-air. “No… what? That literally makes no sense.”
I shake my head, trying to keep my tone even. “No tutoring. Not here. Not this week. Or probably ever again. You can go to your mom’s.”
She stares for a beat and then narrows her eyes at me. “Why?”
“Because I said so,” I say stupidly. “End of discussion.”
She snorts and dumps more coffee into the machine. “Funny joke, Dad.”
I grit my teeth. “I’m not joking.”
My daughter kicks on the machine and gives me the most annoyed expression I’ve ever seen her make. She crosses her arms, eyebrows up. “So, what’s the deal, then? Did she say something? Did she do something? Did you psychoanalyze her, and decide she might taint your house with her niceness?”
My jaw drops at her attitude. “I don’t have to give you a reason as to a boundary I’m setting for my house.” I open the cupboard, grab a mug, slam it down harder than I mean to. “Drop it, Molly. No tutoring here.”
She watches my hands, and then jumps to my eyes. “You’re acting weird right now. You know that, right? Because you can’t keep your eyes off her when she’s here. Is she too distracting?”
“I don’t think she’s who she says she is,” I counter, and while I do believe that, I don’t know the depth to which I think that theory goes. It’s feeling a lot like a fucking excuse right now.
“Hmm,” Molly says, drawing out the word. “You know what I think?” She taps her finger to her chin. “I think you’re projecting.”
I glare at her, trying to summon the old dad stare, the one that used to end arguments before they started. But she just stares back, unimpressed.
Damn, having an adult kid is hard.
“So… Did you two have a fight?” she asks, and her voice is almost gentle, which is somehow worse than her attitude a few minutes ago. “Or did you screw it up like you screw up everything else?”
That one lands, but I shove it down. “This isn’t about me.”
“Bullshit,” she snorts. “It’s always about you and your control problem.”
I turn my back, open the fridge, even though I’m not hungry. “Watch your mouth.”
She’s not scared of me. “Fine. Then explain why I’m not allowed to see her anymore. If you even try the ‘bad influence’ speech, I’ll literally die laughing.”
“Enough,” I bark. “I just said she can’t tutor you here. It’s just…work related.”
“You’re lying.” She tilts her head, obviously seeing right through me.
“Something happened,” she states. “You’re all jumpy and gross, and you keep twitching every time her name comes up.
Dr. Frank said she saw you Friday at the Stone Wall Pub, and Dr. Williams was there, too. Did you sleep with her?”
Goddammit. Why is this town so small?
The silence that follows is thick, because I can’t even open my mouth and try to lie again. I lie enough to my daughter as it is. So, I stare at the contents of the fridge, like I might find the truth in there.
“Oh… My… Holy shit,” she whispers. “You did.” She then bursts into the most obnoxiously happy fit of laughter, echoing through the whole house. “This is incredible. You finally did something risky. I’m so proud of you.”
I eye her, feeling like an ashamed teenager. “Molly, don’t.”
But she’s grinning. “Dad, you have to let her come over. I want to witness my father finally falling in love. Please.”
I shake my head, the memories flooding my brain. “You don’t know anything about it. That’s not how it even works, and it wasn’t…”
She pops her hip out. “I know you,” she says, pointing at me. “You get close to someone, you freak out, and you push them away. That’s what Mom said you did, because letting someone in means you might get hurt. You like her.”
“These aren’t things you talk to your kid about,” I fall back on the only excuse I know to use.
She makes a face at me. “Yeah, you definitely have the hots for her.”
My irritation level rises. “Drop it.”
She leans in, eyes narrowing. “No. You drop it. Stop playing tough guy.”
The urge to explode is so strong I’m left clenching my fists. “I said she’s not coming here. Whether or not I’m playing tough is my problem, not yours. You’re coming to my house, you will respect my rules.”
She doesn’t even flinch. “She’s the first professor I’ve ever had who actually listens to what I have to say.
And you know what else? I think she’s been hurt really bad.
I can see it in the way she does things…
” Molly’s tone is so thoughtful and intuitive, I stay quiet.
“She reminds me of the men you bring here for your… projects. Broken.”
Even more of a reason not to get close.
“That’s really great insight, but,” I swallow hard, “Go to your mom’s.”
Molly’s palpable disappointment hits a nerve deep in my chest that I force myself to ignore. There’s a lot about me that would probably disappoint her, but this one is just better for everyone.
“I think you should let someone in,” Molly says, and then grabs her bag back up, swinging it over her shoulder. For a second, she just stands there, staring at me like she’s waiting for me say something. “This is why nobody stays,” she says, her voice tight. “You don’t let anyone.”
She spins around then and storms out, slamming the door so hard the picture frames on the wall shudder. I stand there, breathing in the silence.
I know she’s right, but her reasons are all fucking wrong.