Page 15 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

He nods slowly. “Good. I’m sure he won’t be a problem for you in the future.”

I can’t help but smile.

“Time’s up!” the guard shouts, and without waiting even a second, he walks over to slap the cuffs back on my father.

“Love you, Daddy. I’ll come back to visit soon.”

“You know I don’t like when you visit, Lilah,” he says as the guard yanks him away. “Love you.”

I blow him a kiss, then hold back tears as I make my way out of the correctional facility.

I saw the signs that something was wrong with my father when I was a kid, but that was the issue. I was young and didn’t knowany better. I thought he was just a silly old man. Like Maurice in Beauty and the Beast. Only Maurice wasn’t crazy, and so I thought my father was fine, too. Not smart to base my life off a cartoon, but what did I know? I was an innocent little girl who loved her father with everything in her. I still love him dearly, and I hate that we aren’t together, but it isn’t his fault that he did what he did. There’s something wrong with his brain. Of course, no one seemed to care about that either. Dad destroyed a lot of families, and I’m sad for them. If the tables were reversed, I’d be angry and upset too. But the fact is, the tables aren’t turned, and I’m living the life I was given. That’s all I can do.

When I get into the parking lot, I find Atticus in the same spot I left him in. The car is running, white smoke coming from the exhaust. It’s cold today. I pull my sweatshirt tighter as I make my way to the car.

“How did it go?” he asks as I’m putting my seatbelt on.

“Perfectly,” I say with a bright smile.

He grins, resting his hand on my thigh. “Tell me all about it, Kitten.”

“Are you sure this is okay?” I ask as I drop the pile of clothing onto the counter.

“I took you in off the street; you’re mine to take care of now,” Atticus says smugly.

I roll my eyes. The cashier rings up the clothing and when we get a total, Atticus hands her a credit card. After she bags everything, he doesn’t let me carry them.

Shopping is not how I expected to spend my afternoon today, but when he suggested it, I didn’t say no.

“Thank you for this,” I say.

“It’s saving my ass too,” he answers as we leave the store. “Going back to that house is asking for trouble.”

Atticus was thrilled when I told him I didn’t have my cell phone on me. I’m not even sure where it is, honestly. Maybe still in Steven’s car. Regardless, it’s a good thing it’s there and not here. There’s nothing on it I’ll miss. It’s not like I have friends or family to check up on me. I only had the phone so Steven could check on me, as if he’d let me out of his sight for more than the time it took him to shit.

Atticus was even happier when he found out Steven has a record of domestic violence and was arrested once from when he hit me in a mall parking garage and someone called the cops. Everything is falling into place just right. The way it’s supposed to.

“So, are you going to tell me about this trip you’re going on?” I ask once we’re in the car.

I about lost my mind when I saw the charcoal grey Lamborghini. Beneath Atticus’s house is an underground garage with rows of cars. Most of them are for collecting and not driving. He pointed to each one that is drivable and let me pick which we took. After asking him a hundred questions to make sure he wasn’t secretly Batman, I chose this one. I’ve never been inside a car so nice before.

“Yeah, I think I will.” He smiles, turning to face me. “Just not right now.”

I groan, throwing my head back. “Why not?”

“I want all the details ironed out first. Want it to be perfect before I present it.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He chuckles, putting on his blinker to change lanes.

“So, I wasn’t paying attention to everything you bought, but is there any chance you have a nice dress in there?”

I quirk a brow. “Maybe… why?”

I’ve learned, in the short few days we’ve been together, that as much as Atticus likes routine, he’s spontaneous and completely out of the blue with his questions. His mind is always going and he’s eager to learn, even if it’s something as silly as my birthday or what schools I attended. I don’t think it’s anything to do with me specifically; he just wants information. And he never forgets a thing.

“Maybe I want to take you out to dinner.”

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