Page 49 of Twisted Collide

The low volume of the music in my car is so loud as I drive that I realize when I roll to a stop at the light that I missed a text.

Looking around, I figure I have a few more seconds before the light turns, so I decide to check who texted.

It’s my father.Speak of the devil.

Sperm Donor:If you’re free for dinner, we’d love to have you. Dane is coming.

Of course he is. Why am I even surprised? Sperm donor’s golden boy.

I’m torn.

The stubborn part of me doesn’t want to go.

But the part of me that stays up at night thinking of him doesn’t want to pass up the opportunity to see him.

Tired or not, I could rally for that.

I wish I had someone to talk to. Anyone.

But I don’t.

All my friends have gone their own way, and my mom . . . well, we don’t have that type of relationship. Never have.

Sure, I love her, and she’s been the only parent I’ve ever had, but she’s strict.

The only time we ever talked about boys went something like, me joking that it was time we talked about the birds and the bees and her reluctantly agreeing. When I was in middle school, I thought it was time. Her response was to keep my damn legs shut.

Good talk.

Yeah, needless to say, that was the last time I ever brought up anything having to do with sex.

I think it should be obvious that I was traumatized by that one statement.

Now, older, I’ve never been able to confide in her, and it’s sad.

I guess her answer makes more sense now that I think about it.

She probably regrets getting pregnant with me, seeing as my father was never around, and that’s the only thing she’s ever said about sex. I have to assume she wishes she had made that choice for herself.

And with that thought, my mood plummets, and all those nasty insecurities bubble to the surface.

Before I know it, I’m pulling up to the house. I still haven’t made a decision on whether I’m going to dinner or not.

Is this a regular thing?

Dane at dinner?

I did notice they were really close the last time he was here. That, coupled with the dad comment, makes me think they are, but they barely speak at practice. Then there’s the whole part about him being made mykeeper.

But I guess it makes sense that they don’t talk in public. There can be no favorites on a team. He needs to ensure he comes across as impartial.

As I sit here in the driveway, my heart hammers heavily in my chest. Like a shot of adrenaline, I’m no longer tired. Energy courses through my body.

Normally, when I come here, I go straight to the backyard and head to the guesthouse, but today, I’ll enter from the main door.

I didn’t bring the key my father gave to me, but it’s fine. I’ll simply knock.

What’s tonight going to be like?

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