Prologue #2
I hadn’t, either. I’d spent my last couple of weeks at home avoiding my dad so I wouldn’t accidentally discover anything.
What if they were wrong, though?
What if we were wrong?
What if we’d assumed he was a philandering asshole, but those inconsistencies were when he was at his own doctors’ appointments for the critical disease that left him looking healthy yet in need of an expensive and experimental treatment that insurance wouldn’t cover?
Thinking it through made it seem even more far-fetched, but it was still a possibility.
One I was trying to cling to because it seemed like the most forgivable of all options.
Noble, even.
Okay, not really, but it was still a better motive than gluttonous greed.
No matter how many times I mulled the situation over, I was left with nothing but question marks.
I could lean into those question marks. Follow in my mom’s footsteps by not digging. Or even better, I could just blame Josh.
Lord knew he deserved it—and a violent kick to the junk.
I disregarded that option immediately. I wasn’t Maddie levels of nosy, but I couldn’t ignore something so major.
The kick part still held merit, though.
Burning tears instantly filled my eyes when I had a fleeting thought about going to the police with what I knew.
I wouldn’t do that, but not because I was a saint of a daughter.
The only evidence I had was a she-said about a he-said that had happened at a rager of a Hollywood party. The police would likely laugh in my face.
If I had a paper trail or bugged his office to get proof, would I turn my own father in?
I didn’t think so, but the fact I’d even thought about it to reach that decision was enough to make me feel like the world’s worst daughter. Guilt slammed into my chest so hard, a giant choking sob tore free. The muffled despair scared whatever wildlife scurried away under the brush.
Betraying my family like something out of a bad mobster movie is out. Where does that leave me?
It left me halfway up a mountain with no answers.
A shit-ton of questions.
And bleeding blisters.
It was too late to do anything about the blisters, but I could get answers. I needed to. There was no way for me to plan until I did.
Going to my dad seemed like the most informative option, but…
I was hesitant.
Fine.
I was a coward.
I loved my dad. He was a good dad. Maybe not as warm and fatherly as Maddie’s was, but a billion times better than Wren’s father—and I used that label loosely.
Afterall, my dad was still in my life. He came to almost all my important events. He was there when I needed him. He took an interest in my future success. Sometimes, he took too much of an interest, but that was better than being MIA.
That being said, he wasn’t the easiest person to talk to.
He always reminded me of the stereotypical dad in an old sitcom.
Not the bumbling idiot type who weaponized his incompetence—Dad was way better than that.
He was like the ones who popped on screen during the breakfast scene, only to grab dry toast from the expansive spread of food before rushing to the office.
The dads who were slightly out of touch with what was happening around them.
Dad was often preoccupied with work. He was ambitious, always wanting to be the best, and he added a loving amount of pressure on me to do the same. He was also more than a little narcissistic.
Not in a cruel way. Projecting the image of perfection was vital for his career, and again, he wanted the same from me. It came easier to him than it did to me. He always knew what to say. How to dress. Who to schmooze.
Dad was… smooth.
He would’ve made a great Hollywood agent, but he put all that charm toward roping in patients instead.
Asking my mom was also out. I was positive she didn’t know about my dad’s side hustle as Dr. Escobar.
She also didn’t know about or have access to his work documents to gather any sort of intel.
Unless it involved fundraising dinners or networking events, my mom steered clear of his practice.
Medical stuff was not her thing. Just the sight of a needle on TV was enough to make her woozy.
The oozing blood that’d ruined my sneakers would have her on the verge of passing out.
That left one person.
I dropped my head back and let out a frustrated noise. I was going for an animalistic—and cathartic—bear growl.
Mixed with my tears and panting, it came out more like a kitten who’d gotten sprayed with water.
Whatever.
Pushing up to my feet, I brushed the dirt from my ass before pulling my cell from my pocket to check the time. It was barely after nine.
No matter how desperate Josh claimed to be to keep me, he wouldn’t answer the phone so early. If anything, he would get pissed at me for waking him.
I needed him happy with me.
Well, I needed another idea that didn’t hinge on talking to my drug-dealing ex. Short of that, though, I needed him happy.
I started moving again, my mind whirling the whole time—making the already grueling hike more akin to anguish.
When I finally reached the top—or at least as far as the narrow path was worn out—the usual feeling of stubborn victory didn’t fill me.
Dread.
Dread filled me.
“I can do this. I can do anything.”
I thought about waiting until I was back down in my car. Or for another day when I was more in control of my emotions.
Or another decade.
But once I set my mind on something, I became impatient—a personality flaw that didn’t always work in my favor.
I checked my phone again. It was still early but not rage-inducingly so. It would have to do because I couldn’t wait any longer.
Maybe he’ll be too tired to filter his answers, and I’ll get the truth for once.
And maybe a Pegasus will fly out of my ass to safely transport me down the trail.
I dialed Josh’s number from memory—I’d deleted it from my contacts—as stupid hopefulness mixed with the dread. Hope that he would admit he’d lied. That he’d been stealing the drugs. And if that wasn’t the case, that he had some explanation.
Some justification.
“What?” he snapped into the phone, his voice whiny with attitude and sleep.
“Hey, it’s me.”
Some of the bite left his tone. “Greer?”
I didn’t bother to ask what other woman it could be. There wasn’t even a hint of envy at the thought that he was fielding morning calls from someone else.
Since jealousy was another of my character defects, the lack of it was basically a neon sign signifying I was well and truly over Josh.
“Yeah, hey.” A shot of doubt went through me as I systematically tore apart the multitude of flaws with my plan. But since awkward silence wasn’t a better option, I had no choice but to push on. “I talked to Maddie.”
It was his turn to let silence stretch before he guardedly asked, “About?”
Telling him that she’d told me everything would be a mistake. I’d been with him long enough to know how quickly he went on the defensive when he felt attacked. He would lash out and blame everyone under the sun but himself. Or just mutter something rude and hang up.
If I had any chance of this working, I needed to play it cautiously so he didn’t feel cornered.
I kept my voice even. Soft. Sweet. “She said that you, um, might have something to tell me.”
“I don’t—”
“Something that would fix things between us,” I interrupted, cutting off his already angry words.
“She said that?”
“Yeah. She knows how much I love you,” I lied.
Loved.
I loved him.
Past tense.
“I love you, too, honey.”
Barf. I hated when he called me that. He should’ve known it, too. I’d certainly told him often enough.
I scowled but kept my opinion to myself since it didn’t matter.
“But I told her that you’re keeping something from me. There’s just all this distance between us, and it’s making everything so out of whack.” I forced a sniffle. “Is it another woman?”
“What? No.”
I was pretty sure that was the truth. Josh was a flirt, but only so women would flirt back. He liked that ego boost, but actually hooking up with someone would require effort and cut into video gaming with his bros.
I sniffled again. “Then what is it? She said that if I knew the truth, it would all be okay.”
That time, it wasn’t surprise that infused his tone. It was skepticism. “She said that?”
“She knows me,” I said. It was probably the strongest legitimacy I could give to my lie.
Josh had always joked that my friendship with Maddie and Wren was eerie. Behind the joke had been a lot of jealousy. He didn’t like how close we were. He didn’t like that they knew me better than he did.
He could’ve known me just as well if he’d paid more attention.
He let out a muffled groan. “Everything will be better soon, okay? Can’t you just take my word for it, hon?”
Hon was worse than honey, but I held back an eye roll.
“Honesty and openness, babe,” I whispered. “Look at how bad it’s become without it.”
“It’s bad because you don’t trust me,” he pouted.
God, he’s whiny.
Why did I stay with him for so long?
But I knew why. Because every time I pulled away, he would turn on the charm. Become relentless.
More than that, he was familiarity at a time when the rest of the world felt daunting and far too big around me.
I knew why I let him ferret his way back in, but his determination to keep me didn’t make sense.
It especially didn’t make sense that he’d told Maddie he would happily implode our lives to do it.
Things between us had been shitty for a while.
We didn’t have a lot in common anymore. Sex was…
fine. He was my only experience, so I didn’t have a lot to compare it to.
But it wasn’t like we had an electric chemistry that made porn look vanilla. I wasn’t that great in bed.
Okay, I was worse than that. I was boring.
On the rare occasion we hung out, he was too distracted and distant to even do anything.
But the spoiled apple didn’t fall far from the rotten tree.
With the distance I’d tried to put between us, I’d become something he couldn’t have.
A prize to be won.