Page 48 of Falling in Reverse

Dad.

Emilio, nope.

Nevertheless, what’s his game and why did he seek me out? What the hell did my mom do?

“Hey, Trav,” I greet, rounding the front end of my car and breathing a sigh of relief. “Thanks for coming. I told you I’d come to you?—”

“Better that you don’t,” Travis replies. “My dad is looking for who shot me.”

My brows collide. “You didn’t tell him?” Slowly, he shakes his head. “Why?”

“What was I doing out to begin with?”

Right.

Duh.

“Right…you okay?” He shrugs, and the center of my interest lands on those brown curls and clean-shaven face. How innocent and sweet Trav is by just dropping whatever he was doing—you know, like, healing—to turn up to my rescue.

“I have a complication.”

Travis bobs his head once, immediately accepting that, whatever it is, he’ll be here for me. “What is it? Is Torin bothering you again?”

My eyes drop to his gray tee while gaining up the strength to admit out loud what I’m so afraid of.

I fall across a math problem etched in black with triangles and angles along his shirt. Typical nerd shit for the reliable dude who’s been in my life since I was six or seven. He’s been one of my closest friends that I remember, and he’s never left my side, despite all my faults.

“Bay, you wanna sit down?” His calm voice wraps around me, and I straighten my spine, hoping it gives my bravery a free space to verbally state what happened.

I shake my head and then see Trav open his mouth again when I word-vomit all over his wanting to soothe me. “Emilio Wildes came into the bar tonight and claims he’s my father.”

Travis’s malachite irises widen in sheer horror at my gut-wrenching statement, causing my own stomach to tighten.

He doesn’t respond, which only sets my apprehension to grow to an all-time high.

It’s that bad.

“Say something,” I blurt out, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I’m freaking out here.”

“How’s that—” I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans and yank out the hair samples Emilio just so happened to have on standby.

To prove a massive point.

“I have DNA.” I can barely hold it between my thumb and index finger. I just want it off me. “It can’t—Roger is my dad.”

“Bay—”

“I mean, fuck, Trav…” I rock my head back and forth to rid myself of that conversation. “He can’t be my father. That’s—no. He’s fucking with me. He wants something.” My palm falls with a thud to my now empty chest. “I’m a nobody.”

“You’re not a nobody,” he mutters, taking a step in my direction. “We’ll…get this DNA test to confirm it.”

Cramming my hand back into my jeans again, I reveal Emilio’s dirty money. “Take this. I can’t?—”

“Bay.” I shift my weight, vulnerable tears burning the rear of my eyes because this is the last thing I need in my life.

It makes no sense. And the more I keep replaying our discussion in my head, the more I realize he's right.

Why would he come to South Shore, a place that throws a hit on him every chance it gets, just to appear and say hey, I’m your dad, let’s go home?

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