Page 112 of Anyone But Her

His brows rise. "Any what?"

"Money. Everything I make goes to pay for my expenses."

"What expenses? You're living with that rich guy for free."

"I have other expenses. Golf isn't cheap. The fee just for my coach costs a fortune."

"You have a coach?" He huffs. "After all them years you spent golfing, you still don't know how to do it right?"

There he goes again. Putting me down. Putting down what I love. He'll never change. Why am I standing here listening to him when I have Taylor back home in my bed, waiting for me?

"I don't have time for this." I go past him toward my car. "Just text me the guy's number."

"You might wanna listen to me, kid."

"I'm not interested in whatever you have to say."

"Even if it affects your chance of playing that stupid game?"

What the hell does that mean? Why is he talking about my golf career? What is he planning? Or did he already do something?

I don't want to listen to this but I have a feeling if I don't, I'll regret it.

I turn around. "What is it? What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything, at least not yet. But I will if you don't cough up some cash for your old man. And don't try to tell me you're broke. I'm not stupid. If they got you on TV you're making money, and since I raised your lazy ass, I deserve some of that money."

I want to scream at him and tell him he did nothing for me other than ruin my childhood and try to destroy my future. But instead, I stand there and say as calmly as possible, "I told you. I don't have money. If I did, I'd have my own place. I wouldn't be living with Cal's family."

"Guess I'll just have to convince you to be more generous."

"Dad, I'm telling you, I don't have anything to give you. You have no clue how expensive it is to golf. And preparing to go pro is...never mind. I can't explain it to you. But trust me, ask anyone who knows anything about golf and they'll tell you it costs a lot of money."

"Then why the fuck are you doing it? Go get a real job. Come back and work at the shipyard. They'll pay you more now that you're older."

"I'm not working at that damn shipyard." I bite out each word, my anger showing despite my attempt to hide it.

"You're a spoiled brat, you know that? I offer to get you a job and you turn me down?"

"Because I don't want to spend my fucking life at that goddamn shipyard! You made me work there when I was a kid and it was wrong. I should've been out with my friends, having fun, but instead I'm working alongside grown men in dangerous conditions. And then you took what little money I made."

"To pay for all your shit. You know how much it costs to raise a kid?"

"Then you shouldn't have had me."

"That was your mother's idea. Not mine."

I knew he'd say that. When I was a kid he'd tell me all the time that my mom tricked him into having me.

Why am I arguing with him? I'll never win. In his mind he's always right, no matter what.

"Just tell me what you want," I say. "I know you want money but I don't have it so I don't know what you want me to say."

"That lawyer said you own the house next door. Your mom and I want it."

"You already have a house."

"We could rent the one next door and make some money."

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