Page 118 of The Risk

He waits for me to say something. When I don’t, he spits out an expletive. “Louisa Royce called me last night. She didn’t have your cell phone number, and she wanted to thank you again for getting her son home safe. And here you are telling me you’re not doing anything reckless. Why are you seeing him again, Brenna? He’s trouble.”

“I’m not seeing him. He was in trouble and I went to help him.”

“Why? He doesn’t deserve your help. He doesn’t deserve shit.” The raw hatred in his voice is terrifying. Dad isn’t a Care Bear. He’s never going to shower you with kisses and compassion. But he’s also not coldhearted.

“Dad. Come on. Eric’s not an evil person. He’s just in a bad place.”

“And it’s not your duty to rescue him from that place.” He drags both hands over his scalp. His gaze is a little wild. “Do you know how worried I was after I got off the phone with his mother? Not knowing if you were all right?”

“You knew I was all right. I told you I was staying with a friend.”

“What friend?” he demands again.

“It doesn’t matter. But you know it wasn’t Eric, because Louisawouldn’t have called to speak to me if I’d spent the night there. So please, just relax.”

“You want me to relax,” he mutters. “We have a crucial matchup this weekend, and instead of preparing for it, I’m worrying about whether or not my daughter is placing herself in danger.”

“I’m not placing myself in danger.” My throat tightens in frustration. I want to stomp my foot like a little kid, because I don’t understand him. Dad has two modes: he’s either ignoring me and completely disinterested in my life, or he’s screaming at me for shit that didn’t even happen.

I’m trembling as I pour my coffee. “I’m only going to tell you this once,” I say, and my voice is as shaky as my hands. “I amnotinvolved with Eric again, and I never will be. He still calls me sometimes, usually to hit me up for money.”

I turn to face my father. His expression is harder than stone.

“I gave him money, one time,” I admit. “And then I realized it would become a habit, so I never did it again. He doesn’t phone that much anymore, maybe a couple times a year. Last night when he called me up, crying and scared because he didn’t know where he was…forgive me if it makes me a reckless fool that I didn’t want somebody I used to love to die in the fucking street.”

“Brenna,” Dad starts gruffly.

“What?”

“Just…” He blows out a ragged breath. “Tell me who you’re staying with next time you’re out all night. Don’t make me worry like that again.”

Then he leaves the kitchen.

JAKE:You ok?

ME:Yes and no. Dad’s gone back to ignoring me, so I assume he’s gotten over it. Heading to Summer’s now for girls night.

JAKE:Fuck ya. Film it for me.

ME:What do you think happens at girls night?

JAKE:Naked stuff, obviously. Pillow fights. Kissing practice. Actually, wait, forget that. We’re in college. You’re teaching each other how to eat pussy.

ME:Yes that’s exactly what we do. You’re such a pervert.

JAKE:Yup. Anyway, I’ll call you later.

ME:You don’t have to do that.

JAKE:I know I don’t have to. I want to.

I bite my lip to stop from smiling at my phone. But I can’t stop the warm, fuzzy sensation in my belly. Last night started out so awful, and ended up so…not awful.

I still can’t believe I slept with Jake. Figuratively and literally. I had sex with him and then I fell asleep wrapped up in his strong arms. I’m in trouble. I think I really like this guy, and I don’t know who I can talk to about it. Summer would tell Fitz in a heartbeat, and Audrey and Elisa suck at keeping secrets.

As I’m approaching Summer’s house, my landlord Wendy sends an update about the basement.

WENDY:Basement’s still not ready. Maybe another week, possibly less. We found mold growth in the utility room, and we’re working to contain it. For now, I need you to send me a complete inventory of what you lost in the flood. We’re filing the insurance claim this week.

---