His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Look at that—you both have boy names.”
I can’t help but laugh. The one and only thing my parents had in common, other than love, was their taste in music. Specifically, their favorite artist, Bob Dylan.
My dad wanted to name me Bob, whether or not I was a boy, but thankfully my mom insisted on Dylan.
“That we do.” I look around. There aren’t a lot of visitors. “How are you holding up in here?”
“I’m okay. The food sucks and they only let us out for an hour a day, but it could be worse.” He looks down at his feet. “I get lonely sometimes.”
Something in my chest dislodges and I’m about to promise him I’ll visit more…until his next statement.
“Savannah’s been visiting me a lot lately, though…keeping my spirits up.”
I feel like I’ve been dunked in a vat of ice water. “I thought she wanted a divorce?”
A genuine smile lights up his face. “No, we’ve worked things out.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sitting up in my seat, I move closer to the glass. “Dad, she’s the reason you’re in here.”
Sadness lines his face. “No, tator tot. I have no one to blame but myself for this mess.”
I’m all for people taking responsibility for their actions, but Savannah definitely played a part in all this.
“I was there, remember? She was always complaining about you not making enough money, meanwhile she was spending almost every dime you earned while she sat on her ass all day. She put too much pressure on you…made you feel like you weren’t good enough.” I place my hand on the glass, hoping to get through to him. “She was wrong, Dad. You are good enough and you don’t need her.”
We don’t need her.
“Savannah’s a good woman,” he begins. “She—”
“Mom was a million times better,” I say, because someone has to make him see the light. “Mom never would have pushed you for any of the material crap Savannah did. She never would have made you feel worthless. Mom loved you. Savannah uses you. Big difference.”
Briefly, I see pain flash in his eyes before he bows his head. “Last I checked, your mother wasn’t coming back from the grave we buried her in ten years ago, Dylan.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “I know you and Savannah have your differences, but you’re gonna have to learn to get along.”
Never. I will never get along with that manipulating witch. She can kiss my skinny ass. “No—”
“She’s pregnant.” His eyes gleam. “You’re finally gonna be a big sister, tator tot. It’s why I wanted you to visit me…so I could tell you in person.”
I clutch my chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t…
“What?” The room is spinning. “How is that even possible? It’s almost December. You’ve been in here since August.”
“She’s four months along,” he says slowly, like I’m dense.
That may be true, but my spidey-senses are telling me something is very fishy about all this. They’ve been married for years, but Savannah just so happens to get pregnant…while her husband is in prison.
Sounds more like she got knocked up by the first guy she could find after my dad was arrested, and that guy didn’t want to stick around.
“You shouldn’t be so quick to believe her.” I hold his stare. “Do us both a favor and have a paternity test done before you take responsibility for this baby.”
Outrage crosses over his face. “She’s my wife.”
Frustration bubbles inside me. “And I’m your daughter.” I glare at him. “Something you always seem to forget.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve done nothing but provide for you all these years.”
Shelling out money for your kid doesn’t make you a parent…it just makes you a donor.
A real parent builds a relationship with their child.
A real parent takes the time to nurture and learn who their child is as a person.
A real parent doesn’t let their child feel unloved and unwanted for a single day, let alone years.
“Unlike your wife, I never wanted your money. All I ever wanted was you.” I shrug helplessly. “But you weren’t there.”
He blinks. “I’m having trouble understanding exactly what it is you’re implying.”
As usual, he doesn’t get it. He’s too wrapped up in Savannah.
“I’m saying I had one parent…and she’s gone.”
“That’s not true,” he protests. “I’ve been here your whole life.”
“Yeah, like a ghost. We don’t talk. You don’t know my hopes, my dreams, my fears. Hell, you don’t even know my favorite color.”
“Yes, I do. It’s pink.”
“It’s blue,” I scream. “Pink was mom’s favorite color.”
He scrubs a hand down his face and sighs. “I don’t know what you want me to say here, Dylan.”
Nothing.
I stand. “Not a damn thing. Just like the last ten years.”
I shouldn’t have to work so hard to get him to love me.
I shouldn’t have to fight so hard to make him understand how much he’s hurting me.
“Sit down.”
I jab the glass with my finger. “No. I am done. You want to keep burying your head in the sand while Savannah walks all over you? Be my guest. But I’m not sticking around for it.” I snatch my purse off the counter. “Congrats on your new baby. I hope you don’t ignore this one and fuck the whole parenting thing up like you did with me.”
With that, I turn and walk out.
Fuck his wife.
Fuck his new baby.
Fuck him.
Chapter 38
Dylan
My phone rings for the third time in four hours.
Sawyer’s name flashes across the screen and I press the ignore button again.
As soon as I walked through the front door, I told my aunt I didn’t feel good and had no intention of talking about the visit with my father. Ever.
I’ve been holed up in my bedroom ever since. Barely holding it together.
My phone vibrates with an incoming text:
Sawyer: You don’t have to talk. I just want you to know I’m here if you need me.
Guilt prickles my chest. It’s not Sawyer’s fault he’s an asshole.
Putting the phone to my ear, I call her back.
She answers on the first ring. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I whisper. “I’m not ignoring you. I’m just…I’m in a really bad head space right now.”
One small nudge off the tightrope and I’ll go tumbling.
“I’m sorry.” I can hear the hesitation in her voice before she says, “I was thinking about making a midnight fast food run if you want to come with.”
I look at the clock on my nightstand. It’s only ten forty-five. “It’s not midnight yet.”
She laughs. “I know, but I’ve been trying a new diet this week, and I’m seriously going to rip my hair out if I don’t get a cheeseburger in my system soon.”