Chapter 17 #2
Holden doesn’t answer, but he does offer a hand to me when Kit turns back toward the birds.
A silent acceptance that stops my heart.
God, I should follow my own advice.
Live, chill, breathe.
Exist and enjoy.
Just hope nothing changes before I’ve figured out how to stop myself from falling all the way down to rock bottom.
That night, Dad calls. Long overdue.
I’m sitting in bed in the guest room—the one across the hall I haven’t spent more than a few hours in since I arrived, mostly for appearances.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, steeling myself.
“I’m surprised you’re not home yet,” he growls. “I heard Uncle Leo’s old place got broken into. Elvira said Ethan was scoping it out. Why didn’t you tell me?”
The man doesn’t miss a beat.
I roll my eyes.
“News travels fast. No need to worry, it wasn’t a huge deal. The bad guys were pretty skittish and they ran off the second Holden went after them. Props to Gramps for leaving me a bodyguard,” I lie. “Let me guess, Elvira hyped it up? You know how she is.”
“I know someone’s telling me what’s going on with this bullshit, Cleo.” His voice cuts deep.
I feel a little bad.
Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that he actually cares in his own messy, bitter way.
He’s an ass, but he’s always cared about me.
It’s just a million other things that get in the way.
“Dad, I’m sorry for not telling you. I didn’t want you freaking out over nothing.” My shoulders slouch.
“Dealing with prowlers in that old house is hardly nothing. Are you okay?”
“Last I checked.”
“What happened? Why was there a break-in? I thought Evie said the place was nearly cleaned out?” His voice sharpens. “What did he leave you, girl? I’m not letting another wild goose chase fuck with my daughter.”
I huff loudly and lean back, staring at the ceiling.
I never bothered to put the light on, and the streetlights pour in through the blinds, sending ribbons across the room in pale white. The scent of sea salt seeps in through the cracked window.
Melancholy vibes, but it’s the concern in his voice that breaks me.
“Don’t worry about it. I really am fine, Dad,” I whisper, fighting the guilt that gnaws at me. It’s just like I’m a kid again, and some small part of me hopes he’ll be my white knight if he’ll just sober up.
He never does.
Even when he tried to rescue me from my own mistakes, he never saw anything for what it was. He’d rip into teachers and principals if I acted out, without ever encouraging me to take responsibility.
I had to learn that alone.
“Cleo, you can’t do this alone. I’m coming up.”
“Whoa, hold up,” I say too quickly, and even though he can’t see me, I’m blushing. “I’m not alone. I have Holden, like I told you. You remember him, right?”
Dad scoffs. “How could I forget? Dude never smiled once. Made me wonder what Uncle Leo was into, having a stone-faced brute like him around. What’s so important he has Verity shadowing you?”
“Nothing! Jeez.” I’m such a bad liar. “Holden, he’s—he’s helping.
Just basic home security and some research.
Nothing crazy.” My voice wobbles, teetering on the brink of giving me away.
“And for the record, he’s pretty awesome at this job.
Nothing gets through that guy. I was never worried about the break-in for a second. ”
The biggest lie yet.
“Uh-huh. Have you wondered what’s in it to make Holden Verity stick around?” Dad sinks back into grim silence for a second. I chew on a hangnail nervously. “Don’t tell me Leo’s kept him around for a pat on the head?”
“There’s more to it, I’m sure. Of course, he’s getting a salary, but… it’s none of my business.” I close my eyes. “Can you just trust me for once? I know that’s hard. If this isn’t resolved by the summer and I’m still in Portland, you can yell at me then.”
“Summer,” he repeats blankly. Summer is a broad, gaping chasm, but it gives me three months to get this shit over with. “Fine. After it’s done, you’ll tell me everything?”
“Everything.”
“I don’t know why you’re not telling me now.” He sighs, his age and disappointment creeping in, and it twists my heart. Even though we’ve had a sour relationship for a long time, I still want to give him a hug.
Heck, maybe I want him to give me one, like he did when I was little and I could believe it meant something.
Back when things were simple.
Back when I believed he could still be my hero.
“Leonidas’ whole life was spent stirring drama,” he says quietly, as if it’s the first time I’m hearing it.
“There’s no good reason to think he stopped because he died.
I saw what happened with your cousins, baby girl.
I won’t have you suffering like that. One more whiff of trouble, and I’m coming. ”
Oh my God.
Sharp tears sting my eyes. I keep them closed.
They slide down my cheeks, warm and cooling too quickly.
I don’t know why this makes me so emotional, but my throat aches.
“You… you won’t need to, Dad. I’ll take care of this soon.”
“I’m holding you to it,” he warns.
The call ends.
I linger in my room, staring at the ceiling and replaying the conversation in my head, wondering what the hell you do with a father who wants to care, but doesn’t know how.