Page 104 of Love to Hate You

Mom filed for divorce along with a restraining order. He was served both last week, which pissed him off to no end. I went with her myself to the local police station to file the restraining order. He’s a piece of shit that needs to disappear from our lives.

As the tires eat up the pavement and bring us closer to school, Daisy remains quiet. Every so often, I feel the weight of her gaze resting on me. When she reaches out and threads her fingers through mine, it takes everything I have inside to tamp down the truth. I want to keep her as far from this dysfunction as I can. I’m embarrassed by the situation. Embarrassed that this is what I come from.

That this is who I am.

More than that, I fucking hate that there’s the slightest chance I could turn out to be anything like my father. It makes me sick to my stomach to know that the very same DNA that makes Philip Prescott a monster, courses through my veins as well.

It’s those thoughts that keep me up at night. It’s the reason why I keep such a tight rein on my temper. Why I don’t allow myself to get out of control. On the football field, rage is not the driving force. It’s teamwork and strategy. Everything about the game is precision and control.

If the sport of football were about violence, I wouldn’t play.

The sudden peal of my cell phone jars the silence and startles us both.

I didn’t think it was possible, but my heart sinks further. I don’t have to glance at the screen to know it’s Mom and that she’s frightened because Dad is at the house and refuses to leave.

I take a deep breath and hit the green button. Mom’s frantic voice makes me realize that there isn’t time to drop Daisy off and backtrack to my parent’s house. It’ll take too damn long. If I head over now, I can be there in less than ten minutes.

In the end, there isn’t a decision to be made.

“Do you mind if we stop by my parent’s house? It shouldn’t take long,” I add, hoping it’s the truth.

I watch as she tries to puzzle together all the pieces laid out in front of her. Again, I brace myself for questions, but she surprises me by remaining quiet. She has no idea how grateful I am for her silence. I press my foot down on the accelerator and the Mustang picks up speed.

Less than eight minutes later and we pull into the drive.

“This is where you live?” Shock and awe thread its way through her voice as she gapes at the house.

“Yeah.”

I’m tempted to tell her that looks are deceiving, but most people don’t believe that. They see a huge ass mansion and the high-end cars parked in the five-stall garage and assume your life is perfect. But there’s not enough money in the fucking world to make the situation with my father bearable.

I cut the engine and turn to Daisy. “I need you to wait in the car, okay?”

Hurt flashes in her eyes. “You…don’t want me to come inside?”

I hate that I’m causing her to doubt us or my feelings for her. But still, I shake my head. I can’t have her there with me. I have no idea what kind of shitstorm I’m walking into and I want her as far from it as possible.

“Please,” I say, desperation filling my voice. “Just sit tight and wait for me.”

With a bit of luck, I’ll be able to talk some sense into Dad and convince him to leave before we have to have him physically removed from the property for violating the restraining order. I cringe at the idea of that happening and Daisy witnessing it.

With her eyes locked on the stone structure, she whispers, “You don’t want me to meet your family?”

“It’ll have to be some other time.” I force myself to remain calm even though I’m antsy to get inside and get the situation sorted out. “Now isn’t good.”

She gives a tight shrug and relents. “Okay.”

The breath whooshes from my lungs. “Don’t leave the car.”

It’s a relief when Daisy jerks her head into a nod. She’s one less thing for me to worry about in a situation where I have zero control over anything. With a final look in her direction, I jog toward the house and slip inside the front door. As soon as I do, Dad’s booming voice echoes throughout the first floor.

How the hell did he even get in here?

The first thing we did after serving him the paperwork was call a locksmith to change the locks. We also upgraded the security system.

I follow the raised voices that are coming from the kitchen. It takes a moment to realize that Dad is slurring his words. He’s not a man who gets wasted and then turns into a mean drunk. He’s an asshole all the time, drinking just makes it ten times worse.

“You worthless fucking whore!” he bellows.

---