Page 27 of Lies Like Love

People used to tell me I looked a lot like my father, but whatever happened to him in this place changed that. He’s a gaunt version of the man I remember growing up, and the illusion of who I thought he was has been stripped away.

“Ten years.” He sits down in front of me, and his handcuffs clatter against the metal table as he rests his hands on it. “Good to see you, son.”

I hate that he calls me that.

I hate that it’s who I am.

I hate him.

“Why is Felicity refusing to take money from her grandparents?” I’m clenching my hands in tight fists, which digs my fingernails into my palms.

“Cutting straight to the chase?” Dad smirks. “No hello, how are you?”

“I don’t care how you are.”

“But I see you still care about her.” His smile drops and a familiar cold void fills his gaze.

“Just answer the question, and we can both say goodbye for another ten years.”

He doesn’t want to see me any more than I want to see him, but he doesn’t seem surprised I’m here. Amusement brightens his eyes, and I wonder how many years he’s waited for me to show up and ask him this question.

The last time I saw my father, I didn’t think much of the final words he said to me. It wasn’t until Fel showed up at my shop that I heard them whispering from the back of my mind.

You can’t keep her out of your path, Jude. What’s meant to be always finds a way.

What did he see back then that I didn’t?

I ran far enough that she never would have found me if she stayed where I left her. But she didn’t, and my father doesn’t seem surprised by it.

Maybe I should have expected it as well—maybe I did. After all, there’s a reason I’ve never taken any relationship past a certain point. A reason I’ve always seen Fel’s face when I close my eyes. A reason I never really got over our two years together.

The years don’t matter when it comes to Fel, and even in her absence, I couldn’t shake her from my bones.

What’s meant to be always finds a way.

I figured it was a metaphorical taunt to remind me I deserve to burn in hell for wanting my stepsister the way I did. Only now, I hear it as something more literal. And I need to know why he seemed so certain of his convictions.

“Why did she cut them off?”

“Why don’t you just ask her?”

I considered that. Every time she’s dropped off jewelry at the shop the past week, I thought about asking why she walked away from her grandparents’ money after college. Her mom didn’t have much of an inheritance, which was one of the reasons she married my father. So I’m not sure why Fel would rather struggle selling jewelry at tattoo parlors than accept her grandparents’ support and pursue something more.

I have so many questions, but any answer she gives is bound to be scripted.

Fel might have a weakness for telling me the truth when she shouldn’t, but I’m well aware there are still pieces of every admission she hides. She did it back then, and she’ll do it even more now knowing what I’m willing to do with that information.

“What makes you think I know anything?” Dad leans back in his chair, ignoring the fact that I never answered his question. “I don’t get out much in case you forgot.”

“They still visit you.”

I just don’t know why.

If anyone has a reason to hate my father for what he did, it should be Fel’s grandparents. Why they’ve continued to visit him in prison baffles me, and I’m not sure Fel’s even aware of it.

She meant what she said when she told me she cut ties with her family, but somehow it feels like my fault. With her mother dead and me gone, I expected her to cling to them for comfort and support, maybe I should have kept closer tabs to confirm it happened.

But even if I had eyes watching just close enough to confirm she was fine, it was easier to stay away. It wasright.

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