Page 47 of Law Of Love

After hearing his name being called by a few older men in the room's corner, Will smiled at us, again, eye-fucking Kaylee. He clearly had a thing for blondes. “It's been great seeing you again.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the brewery card, holding it up. “I'll keep this handy.”

I tried not to stare as he excused himself, and I turned to Kaleb to see him glowering at the back of his head.

We stayed for around an hour before we watched someone walk in and whisper something into Will's ear. The two of them quickly made their way into a backroom, their faces glum and their body language stiff.

Kaleb and Brent didn't want to overstay their welcome, and they took one last shot each before leading us toward the exit.

“Do you think Will bought it?” I questioned as I buckled up my seatbelt in Kaleb's car.

He gripped the wheel tightly as he drove, the metal groaning under the pressure. “It's hard to tell with Will. He’s a closed book.”

Like my father had been—right before he cut me from his life. I tried thinking back to anything I'd done to warrant this kind of reaction, but I was coming up blank. I didn't reach out to him much when he went away, sure, but only because he always told my mother and me he needed to focus on work. He didn't have much time for us. I’d suggested going for family meals or visiting the movies together a few times, but the idea was always quickly squashed with a bellowing laugh from my father. The prospect of spending time together as a family had become funny to him.

Was it because I wanted to pursue an art-related career? He'd always expressed how creative work was nothing but a hobby and people needed to look at life with a little more common sense. Would he have preferred me to be something more prestigious, like a doctor or a lawyer? Had all of this stemmed from his disappointment in me?

Pressing my head against the window, Kaleb continued to talk, but I wasn't paying attention, and when I heard him calling my name, I turned to him with a spacious look on my face.

“Alright,” he muttered, pulling the car over and cutting the engine. “Something's happened. What is it?”

My eyes immediately watered, but I swallowed the tears back down, my throat going dry.

Cursing to himself, Kaleb hooked his finger under my chin as he shuffled closer to me. “Freya, you can tell me.”

I ran my hand through my hair, holding up my phone and gesturing to it. There was no point in pretending I was okay in front of Kaleb anymore. He could see right through me. I was the opposite of Will and my father. An open book—the pages displayed for the world to read.

“Come here.” He pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me as a few traitorous tears leaked from my eyes.

“You're killing me here, Freya. Did someone hurt you? Is it Zach again?” His voice was like venom, and I pulled away to see his tongue assaulting the front of his teeth in apprehension.

I shook my head, wiping at my nose. Attractive. “No, it's just my dad. He's changed his number. I can't contact him anymore.”

Kaleb released a quiet sigh, caressing my cheek before he cleared his throat and dropped his hand. He was silent for a few seconds. “Dads are crappy.”

I laughed—little humour in it. “They are.”

“Mine left when I was young. He was a gambling addict.”

I knitted my eyebrows together. Jackie hadn’t mentioned the gambling part. I wanted to ask Kaleb more on the subject, but I didn't want to push him. He had never brought up his dad before, and I doubted he wanted to go through a play-by-play with me.

“Some people are cowards and don't know how to face their demons," he told me. “He'll either come around, or you'll learn to go on without him. Either way, you’ll be okay.”

I hummed, sniffling.

“You're going to be fine. I promise.” His voice held such determination as he wiped away a lingering tear, his thumb travelling down to stop at my lip.

Why did I feel like I was going to pass out? My skin sparked from his touch, and it took everything inside of me not to lean forward and capture Kaleb’s lips with my own.

He released a throaty, frustrated groan before he smiled sadly at me, pulling away. “Let’s get you home.”

Twenty-one: Freya

Iopened the front door for Hannah, arching an eyebrow at her as she beamed at me and ushered me aside. She was carrying a giant mood board and gestured to it with pride. “I present to you—our project.”

Crouching down to gaze at it, I smiled. Hannah and I had spent the past four days cooped up in her room completing it, and after I’d left hers late last night, she’d called me to let me know she was just applying the finishing touches.

We hadn't got around to sticking everything onto the cardboard, so she had generously volunteered to do that before she called it a night.

I proofread our final essays, and they were pretty good—besides Hannah’s awful spelling.

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