Page 55 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

I crane my neck to look at him. “Alec, if it’s for your band, that is what’s important.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward. “I’ll answer it when you tell me who hit you.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead fucking serious.”

I swallow the lump lodged in my throat and sit up. He sits up with me, keeping one leg around my back and the other hanging off the couch. After a long minute, I clear my throat. Saying it out loud makes it real, and I’m not sure I want to believe my father actually laid a hand on me. Alec waits patiently while I build up enough courage to tell him.

“My father.” My voice is low, shame skating through me.

I watch his expression as the color drains from his face. His body locks and his jaw cocks off to the side. His gray eyes, usually full of life, are now filled with hatred.

Not that he has a reason to hate my father, but I suppose he cares for me a lot more than I initially thought.

“Tell me what happened, and do not leave a single detail out,” he demands.

Shifting again, I take a large breath. Discomfort tears through my chest. “Well, I’m not positive where I should start.”

“The beginning.”

That’s easier said than done, but I do my best to pull the words together. It takes me a bit, but eventually I find them and start at the beginning.

I start with my mother’s funeral, and what I overheard the two officers say. I explain how my father has been very distant the past few days compared to how he used to be. As I explain everything to Alec, I fight to hold myself together. I don’t want to break down, but every cell in my body feels like it’s dying. My heart feels like it’s shattering. Before I know it, my lip starts to quiver and I start gasping for air again.

Alec holds me tight, rubbing gently circles on my arm. He doesn’t let go until my breathing is normal again, and I have better control of myself.

In all my life, I have never experienced this amount of pain. This much heartache. I didn’t realize how difficult it is to pretend to be OK.

Alec doesn’t say anything when I finish. He stares at me in a way I don’t want people to look at me–a look of sorrow.

I click my tongue. “Anyway.” There’s breakage in my hoarse voice. “I think it’s true.” His eyes narrow, but his expression doesn’t falter. I shift in my seat uncomfortably. “I think my father killed my mother.”

Alec looks as shocked as I feel, and from his tight expression and solid stare, I can tell that he’s still processing what I admitted.

“What makes you think your father has anything to do with it?” he asks.

“Well, my dad caught my mom cheating.” I swallow through the thickness in my throat. “The night she was found dead.”

Alec stares at me blankly, short of words. My heart beats faster, an uncomfortable feeling tingles in my belly. Please say something.

“Are you going to say something?” God, I need him to say something because if he continues to stare at me like that, I might start crying again.

He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them and looking at me. “Are you positive?”

“I wouldn’t make something like that up, Alec. He’s my father. Something is wrong, I’m telling you. I strongly believe he killed my mother or is hiding who did. I just need the proof.”

He nods, his lips pinned into a straight line. “How do you expect to get proof?”

I run my palms down my face and groan. “I don’t know. Look, can we talk about something else? I’m not really in the mood to even think about my father right now.”

Alec’s thumb presses against my cheek. I lean into it, loving the way his touch feels. “When was the last time you ate?”

Relief overtakes me, and I look at him through my lashes, trying to recall the last time I ate something. “I… don’t know.”

He claps his hands together and stands, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “OK, well, I’m getting you something to eat. Your stomach has been screaming at you since you’ve been here.”

Has it? I haven't noticed.

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