Page 9 of Drown in You

“What if she sends me to Australia?”

Her lips purse. “With the giant spiders and killer kangaroos? Hell no, you’re on your own.”

On my bed beside me, my phone chimes. Dread washes over me. My father has been texting me for months now, lengthy apologies about how he should’ve been a better father to me and a better husband to my mom. How he should’ve made more of an effort with me in the decade since their divorce instead of relegating our relationship to birthday phone calls and holiday cards.

Apparently, Mom told him what happened with Marcus. Now he wants to be a dad again. Protect his little girl even though he hasn’t been around to do that for years.

Part of me wants to find a way to forgive him—the people-pleaser part that wants to make everyone happy and avoid conflict. Another part of me doesn’t want to have a relationship with him again. But I also can’t bring myself to tell him no. So instead, I don’t say anything at all, letting all his texts go unanswered. Even months later, he hasn’t given up.

“Is it the sperm donor?” Juliet’s lips purse at my phone like the device repulses her.

She’s been adamant from the beginning that I should block him. Even Ten, who lost his dad years ago, hasn’t pushed me to mend my relationship with my father. No guilt-tripping, if-my-dad-was-still-alive nonsense. Even when I asked him what I should do, he wouldn’t give me a straight answer.

Whatever relationship you do or don’t have with him should be on your terms.

When I check my phone screen, my shoulders relax. It’s not my father—it’s Ten.

I chew on my lip when I read his message so Juliet doesn’t catch me grinning at my phone like an idiot.

Ten

Guess who bought a disposable camera today? You’re a bad influence.

I haven’t told him about what happened in the park. He doesn’t even know about the incident with Marcus that started this whole mess. I typed up and deleted so many messages explaining the situation, but ultimately, I couldn’t bring myself to send any of them. Ten is an athlete, a hockey player with NHL aspirations. What would he think if he knew what I did? I couldn’t bear it if his opinion of me changed. Other than Mom and Juliet, he’s the only person I have left.

Juliet’s pierced nose nearly collides with my phone. “Ooh, Ten. Your masked man!”

Before I can stop her, she snatches my phone. I swat at her, but she’s already off the bed. “Asshole! Give it back!”

Juliet’s grin is downright wicked. “Tell him to send you a photo in a Purge mask. That’s my favorite.”

My ringtone blares over my protest. Juliet’s mouth falls open like she actually expects it to be Ten calling me. But we’ve never actually talked on the phone or video chatted. We stick to DMs and texts like normal twenty-somethings, although sometimes I hope that he’ll call me out of the blue because he finally wants to hear my voice and wants me to hear his. That he’ll call with a proposal: Let’s meet.

But when Juliet’s eyes narrow at the screen, I know it’s not Ten. “Who is it?”

She turns the screen toward me. “The sperm donor.”

“Oh my god.” My father’s calling me now? He should’ve taken the hint—dozens of ignored texts later—that I don’t want to talk to him. My stomach is already twisted up in knots. “Ignore it.”

Instead, Juliet swipes her finger across the screen.

“Juliet, no!” I snatch for the phone, but she holds it out of reach. I’m going to kill her.

“Mr. Carter. How can I help you?” She ignores the double middle fingers I hold up.

Over the speaker, Dad’s uncertain voice is somehow foreign and familiar at the same time. “Um, hello. Who am I speaking with?”

She thrusts the phone toward me. I mute it and hiss, “What the hell are you doing?”

“You need to tell him to fuck off. Tell him to stop harassing you and leave you the hell alone.”

She might be able to do that, but she knows damn well that I can’t. I take a long, deep breath, trying to calm my pounding heart. I hit the Mute button again and plaster a smile on my face. “Hi, Dad.”

“Sienna!” The cheer in his voice surprises me. The father I remember was quiet, reserved, stressed. Maybe he’s just that relieved not to be dealing with Juliet. I love her, but I can’t blame him. Aside from Marcus and his cronies, she’s the scariest person I know. “How are you feeling?”

“Um. I’m okay.” Every part of my body aches from where I was kicked and punched and my brain is wracked with horrifying memories about being pinned down in the dirt by a former football player twice my size, but other than that, totally fine.

“I’m so sorry about the circumstances, but I wanted to let you know that we’re really excited you’re coming to stay with us. Deb already has a room ready for you.”

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