Page 51 of Diem

Dr.Love: You wanna see?

My skin crawls at the exchange, and I close my eyes. Is this my father? Does he really talk to girls online like this?

SweetPetite: Maybe I do…but first…

Dr.Love: No demands, pretty girl…you’ll lose your appeal

SweetPetite: Oh? That’s disgusting…

Dr.Love: You know what’s disgusting? Filthy girls like you

His words burn my sternum and I rub my chest. What the hell is Penny thinking?

Maeve: Penny, you have to stop engaging with this weirdo, now

Penny: No way…I’m just getting in, I can’t now…

Maeve: Penny, what if he knows who you are?

Penny: Then maybe the asshole will slip up and tell me what I need to know

∞∞∞

When I get home, Dad is in the den watching a game and he drops his phone to his lap when I step through the door. “Hey kiddo.”

Of course, I follow his movements with suspicion. Is he messaging Penny under the guise of Dr. Love? Or has he moved on to a new conquest? Maybe he’s communicating with one of his asshole friends?

Hell, maybe he’s got pictures on his phone?

That one sends bile up my throat, and I swallow it back as he says, “Everything okay?”

A shiver wracks me because the man staring back partially in shadow is someone I don’t recognize.

“Um yeah, just tired,” I say weakly. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing, just trying to figure out the boat. You remember Uncle Frank’s boat?”

Nodding, I try to remember those days, but they seem so far away. Still, we went out on it a few times before all of that sort of faded away. I guess Frank got too busy for us kids, not surprising considering his surly personality.

“What’s wrong with his boat?” I ask, injecting a nonchalance I don't feel. Who cares about his damn boat?

“Well, Charlie needs help and Frank asked me to do it.”

“Charlie?” I ask. Is this a new friend? And where’s Frank?

Nodding, he says absently, “Yep, Charming Charlie—the boat.”

Staring at his bowed head, I step toward the stairs. I’m afraid if I spend too much time around him, he’ll see my suspicions and I’m not ready for that.

Something in my expression must give me away though because his eyes narrow before he says, “Are you feeling, okay? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” I mumble. “Dad?”

As uneasy as I am, I can’t help but ask the question that’s been burning in my gut for a while now. Maybe before the particulars didn’t matter but now…?

Everything is out of control, and I fear if I don’t know what I’m missing well, it may come back to haunt me.

“Yeah, sweetie?” he asks, his head dipped back to his phone.

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