Chapter 35
LUNA
What a surprise that my father shows up when I’m handling shit.
The terraced planters I built for myself in my backyard at the beginning of the previous fall have sat empty for months. But now they’re full of a fragrant mulch, just waiting for seeds.
I’m about to grab the small handwritten labels I made, mentally mapping out my rows of future herbs and veggies, when I hear the squeak of the gate hinges.
I turn, expecting to see Charlie.
Instead, the man on my property is the last one I’d ever give permission to be here.
“Hey, baby girl.” My father wears a falsely affectionate smile.
The nickname and the lie on his face boil anger in my gut. This man is a walking, talking danger, encroaching upon my territory. I should sprint to my house and throw the dead bolt, getting walls between us.
That’s what I tell my clients.
Run.
Run to train. Run on your property. Run in daylight. Run on the treadmill to get your strength up, then run through your house to get comfortable with the sensation.
And then, when you have even the slightest worry that someone intends to harm you, run.
Don’t worry about being wrong.
Don’t worry about looking ridiculous.
Just run.
But I don’t run.
Because I let my rage override common sense and hold me in front of this man as he grins like the victor in an arena.
If this comes to a fight, things won’t turn out the way he thinks.
“Get out.”
Some people might ask, What do you want? Or, Why are you here?
But I don’t care about those answers. All I care about is if he’s going to leave on his own or if I need to make him.
“That’s no way to greet your daddy.”
Like I ever called him that.
Dad at first.
Asshole behind his back since I was ten.
Piece of shit to his face since I was eighteen.
“Get. Out.” I speak the words slowly but with every ounce of hatred I hold for him.
He’s in my yard, at my house. This is my safe space, and he showed up here like our lives cross over in the way of normal families. We’re not normal. I moved states away so I’d never have to see his face again. I kept this address to myself, but it’s probably public record.
Knew I should’ve changed my name when I finally left their house. Maybe I should reconsider becoming Luna Keller. Maybe Charlie could share his parents with me for the next year, letting me live in a brief, happy fantasyland filled with parental support.
“I’m not leaving until we have a chat. A family discussion.” Bill Lamont leans back against one of my planters, and the wood creaks under his weight.
“That’s not a bench,” I hiss.
Mistake.
His eyes drop to the planter I spent a week carefully constructing. Then he glances back at me with a spark of triumph in his milky-blue eyes.
Almost thirty years old, and I still haven’t mastered the art of handling my father. The best thing to do is remain calm and dismissive. But the man even breathing air in my vicinity pisses me off, which means I accidentally reveal weaknesses. Like the fact that I care about my planters.
When I was younger, my dad would use Leo and Dash against me, knowing I would do anything to keep my brothers from hurting.
“Sorry, baby girl. I’ll leave these be, and we can have our little talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“Sure we do. But maybe you forgot because you didn’t mention it the last time you came to visit.” His gaze sharpens, trying to cut through me.
Disquiet trickles down my spine. Instead of asking the question he wants me to, I keep my mouth shut. Bill Lamont is too much of a showman not to get around to the big reveal, even without my prompting.
After waiting long enough, he laughs, as if I were a silly child. “I got the most interesting letter. About an inheritance. My inheritance.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
His smile turns as hard as his stare. “You should’ve told me about that, baby girl. I know you knew.”
Calm and dismissive. “So what?”
“So …” He steps closer. “I know you’d rather chew your leg off before tying yourself down to some man. Just thought I’d stop by and make sure you weren’t planning something stupid.”
Good thing I have on gardening gloves or else he’d know I have zero intention of letting him get his grubby hands on Wai Po’s money.
The safest thing to do would be to disengage from this situation. To stroke my father’s ego, drop my eyes, let him gloat until he gets bored, then wait for him to leave. He’s a quarry I’m familiar with, and I know exactly what leads to violent reactions.
But with Bill Lamont, my logic always seems to evaporate.
All that’s left is a rage that demands I hurt him.
“You’re pathetic.” I leave my hands loose at my sides, ready to bring them up for defense. “Can’t make your own money, can you? Need an old lady’s cash just to survive?”
His condescending smile morphs into a snarl. “Shut your mouth.”
“Why? So you don’t have to hear about how you’re a waste of oxygen? An embarrassing use of space?”
“You ungrateful bitch. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even exist.” The man who never earned the title father looms over me. “And I know you’re the reason I’ve been getting those calls!”
I keep all signs of triumph off my face, even as I savor an evil cackle in my mind. Glad to hear the number Leo gave me wasn’t a dud.
There are a few personal ads out in the world now, describing how Bill’s looking for a connection. Specifically, he’s looking for people to call him using a baby voice and commenting how tiny his junk is. Available twenty-four/seven.
Anyone who insults my sister-in-law deserves to be taken down several hundred pegs.
“Get off of my property now.”
“I put a roof over your head for years,” he spits while grabbing for my arm.
I shove his hand away and step hard on his insole, grounding down with my heel until he yelps and stumbles back a limping step.
“That’s assault!”
“Oh, yeah? Go ahead. Call the cops on me.” I paste a wild grin on my face, knowing the expression is eerie as hell from the way he shuffles farther away.
“The second you dial those numbers, I’ll be on the phone with Uncle Mike, telling him how you’re getting cozy with the law.
” I lean close, making sure he’s listening to the hatred in my voice.
“Besides, I’ve got years of you smacking me around to pay back.
We’re nowhere close to even. Not when I never called the police on you, no matter how many bruises I went to bed with. ”
“You ungrateful, crazy—”
“Hey!” The single word, barked out from the door of the house, adds another layer of tension to this situation.
Damn it, I yell in my head as Charlie steps through the sliding glass door and approaches us. Why couldn’t he have taken Pig on a longer walk?
Out loud, I say, “I’ll be inside in a minute.”
Take the hint.
But Charlie only strides up beside me, worry creasing deep lines in his face as he flicks his eyes between my father and me. At least Charlie left Pig inside. I can hear her whimpering and don’t know what she’d do around the toxic presence of my father.
“Who’s this—” Bill Lamont ends his question with a disgusting slur he says with ease from a lifetime of use.
My mind blanks for a moment, shame and fury a drowning mixture that engulfs me at the sound of the offensive word my father calls Charlie. Next thing I know, my dad’s backing away, hands raised, sneer twisting his mouth and triumph in his eyes.
That’s when I realize I’m trapped, wrapped in a strong set of arms, which hold me back from clawing my father’s eyes out.
“Let me go,” I snarl.
“That’s what he wants,” Charlie whispers in my ear.
“Let me go before I make you.”
My fake husband doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t loosen his arms.
“You let your friend fight all your battles for you?” my dad taunts me, even as he keeps his distance.
Before I can warn Charlie to keep his mouth shut, he’s already talking.
“I’m not her friend. I’m her husband.”
The mocking superiority drains from my father’s face.
Fucking hell.
I should’ve run.