Page 15 of Icing the Enemy

“No, sir.”

For a moment, I stand in shock, wondering what to do.

Call the police?

Plot my revenge?

My friends are never going to let me live this down. But just as we will be there for Emmaline when things are upside down, I know my teammates will help me—after they laugh their asses off.

I find Bryce, Dane, Reed, and Joe standing near the bar, and I approach them feeling rejected. It must be written all over my face because Dane asks, “What’s wrong?”

Inhaling a breath, the size of the Goodyear Blimp, I close my eyes for a moment. “She stole my truck and left without a trace.”

My fun-loving friends heckle, but it dies down when they realize I’m serious.

“Why? You looked like you were enjoying each other. I saw that kiss,” Bryce says.

We were. Or at least I thought we were.

“What are you going to do?” Reed asks.

“Call the police, I guess. This is why I don’t date.”

Bryce scoffs. “Dating isn’t the problem. This is why you don’t pick up women at truck stops.”

“Touché.”

CHAPTER SIX

oakley

As I walkpast a table in the back, I hear my name and recognize the voice—Mr. Gould. I pretend to be waiting in line for the bathroom so I can listen to their conversation or maybe eavesdrop is a better description. Parts are inaudible but the other guy asks, “So, was she upset about not meeting me?”

Mr. Gould responds, “I think that ship sailed long ago. She thinks you’re an ass for not showing up when her mom died.”

“Her mom and I had an agreement. We both kept it,” he says matter-of-factly.

Is this man my father?

In a lighter tone, Mr. Gould adds, “Oakley seems to be a smart girl with a rebel streak. Pretty too. Did you see her yesterday as you left the office? She was early for our appointment so I’m sure you would have passed her. Blond hair, medium height, blue eyes.”

I wish I could see the man’s reaction, but his voice is clear. “I may have. It’s awful I can’t recognize my own daughter.”

Anger bubbles in my chest. He should know what his daughter looks like. What she smiles like. Her favorite toys when she was young. How she broke her arm the first time onthe monkey bars, or the second time attempting gymnastics. He should know everything about me.

He may not recognize me or know anything about me, but I know I want nothing to do with him—ever.

“Yeah, cause once you saw her, you would be putty in her hands,” the lawyer adds.

“I’m giving her money, and that’s all I can do.”

The fabric of my dress crinkles in my hands, and I sneak a peek at Mr. Gould, and he’s shaking his head with a look of disappointment washing over his face.

There aren’t enough adjectives in the dictionary to describe how I feel at this moment. Anger, bitterness, fury. They all pale in comparison to the storm raging inside me. But I won’t let him win. I won’t let him think he can control me with his money. I don’t need him. I never have, and I never will. If he thinks he can buy my love and forgiveness, he can go fuck himself.

Fight or flight pops into my mind. My guidance counselor at school said, “When you’re stressed, fearful or faced with trauma, two responses take over: fight or flight. Oakley, I want you to know that you’re in control of those feelings and your response. Take a breath.”

Every unforgettable moment tonight is washed away from the tears running down my cheeks. Part of me wants to confront the asshole and show him what he’s missed out on—one fantastic daughter. The other, more sinister side of me wants to plot my revenge.

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