Page 68 of His Gentle Omega
There was a shuffling sound over the phone, and I could almost picture Dad standing in his kitchen, chewing on a ragged nail. The same dark brown hair as me, the same light green eyes, the same small build. That was where the similarities ended. We had two completely different personalities.
“Now Benny,” Dad cajoled, and I could practically mouth the script word by word. All I had to do was insert the latest alpha’s name. “Don’t sound like that. His name is Andre and he’s French.”
Rolling my eyes, I very much doubted the man was French. He probably had a fake accent, and realized how gullible my dad was. “He’s so handsome, but he’s just not good at keeping track of time.”
Throwing an arm over my eyes, I felt my muscles tense with stress. “How much did he take?”
Silence, then finally, a loud put-out sigh. Really, he was put out withme? Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes again behind my arm. Some things never changed.
My dad was gorgeous, but he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, and he was way too trusting of any alpha with a dick that showed him any kind of attention.
Dad had been fifteen, captain of the cheerleading squad, and head-over-heels for the big, alpha football player that turned his head and promised him everything under the sun. As I had learned growing up, my dad was easily swayed by pretty words and a handsome face. My sperm donor–because I refused to call him anything else since the man refused to even acknowledge my existence–had sweet talked him right out of his cute little cheerleading uniform and into the backseat of his car. Where they had made me.
Of course, my sperm donor had then denied they had ever hooked up, or that the baby Dad was carrying was his. My grandparents had kicked Dad out, and he had only survived by going to the local shelter.
After having me, Dad had managed to get somewhat on his feet by taking classes and learning to cut hair. We had left the shelter and moved into an apartment in a not-so-great part of town. I soon learned at a very young age, that my dad was good at charming men–usually the wrong kind of men–but terrible at adulting. He’d forget to pay bills, or the rent, or buy groceries. The lights or water would get turned off, or we’d get evicted, and end up back in the shelter, before I took over as much of the adult responsibilities as I could.
It was a chaotic existence, marked with few times of true security growing up. The one thing I could count on was Dad’s ability to always find the worst possible type of alpha to drag home. Dad definitely had a type. The abusing, thieving kind.
I tried to remind myself he wasn’t that much older than me, and he’d been just a kid when he’d had me. But sometimes he was just exhausting. Dad was the definition of doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Then he would be absolutely shocked when some asshole slapped him around and stole his rent money.
Dad was the single reason I had applied for jobs away from Hollow Ridge. Hours away. I loved him but I needed the distance between us. I could not have him in my life every day. Sweet Alps was close enough that I could be there in a few hours, but far enough that we weren’t in each other’s business. And Dad was very much an out of sight, out of mind person. He really only remembered I existed when he needed money.
Because of my somewhat chaotic childhood, and watching my dad being abused on more than one occasion, I truly did understand some of what Shay was dealing with. Which was why I was willing to give him the space he needed, even if it killed me. Because I had prayed many times for my own dad to put me first. To get himself straightened out, and to get us to a stable environment. Shay being able to admit he needed to put himself and his child first was truly something I admired. Even if I wished things were different.
“Stop letting these assholes have access to your stuff, Dad.”
“I’m not a child, Bennett,” Dad sniped, clearly unhappy with my always ignored advice, “don’t talk to me like I am. I’m the parent here.”
“Too bad you never acted like it.” The words were harsh, and I regretted them as soon as they were out of my mouth. Sort of.
The sharp inhalation of air through the phone told me I had hurt my dad.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
“No, you did,” Dad’s voice was wobbly, and I could picture his green eyes shimmering with tears. “I wasn’t always the best parent, Bennett, I know that. But I was a child raising a child, and I did the best I could. I’m sorry it wasn’t good enough for you.”
Let the gaslighting begin. Mouthing the often-repeated words along with him, I shook my head, knowing he would never understand how his actions had made me feel or affected me.
“How much did he take?” I repeated tiredly. I was not up for dragging this conversation out tonight.
“All my rent money,” Dad admitted quietly, then hurriedly tacked on, “but I covered it with my paycheck and my savings. I did what you said and put money in a bank account everyweek, Benny.” He sounded proud of himself, and I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.
For some reason I never understood, Dad always cashed his paychecks, never putting money in a bank account. Which meant there was always cash in the house for whichever alpha dickhead he brought home that week to help himself to. Rent money, grocery money, Christmas money.
“That’s great, Dad.” Because I didn’t need to be an asshole too.
“It’s just now I’m short for groceries.”
“Sure, Dad, no problem.” It was easier to just give in. And he was my dad. I couldn’t say no, even if I wanted to. I should, I knew that. I wasn’t doing him any favors, but there was no way I could. “Do you have a list started on your grocery app I set up for you? I’ll take care of it.”
“It’s just a few things, Benny,” he rushed to get the words out, “to get me by until payday.”
It had taken me a hell of a time convincing him to let me set up a grocery account for him. But it worked out well since he still wasn’t sure that he trusted any of the cashapps when he ran short of things.
“It’s fine, Dad.” Rubbing my temples, I tried to ease the tightness that was starting to give me a headache. “Put whatever you need on there, and you’ll get the text when you can go pick it up.”
“Um…about that. Does it cost to have them delivered?”
