Page 8 of The Lie
But it wasn’t enough to feel sorry for him.Fucking dick!
I turn on my laptop and look for something I can binge-watch while relaxing for a few hours. Something mind-numbing that will distract me from Jace and, especially, from Roman.
“What are you watching?” Dad asks, a bottle of water in his hand. When he passes it to me, I look at the two other bottles he brought me earlier that sit untouched.
I hold in a frustrated sound. I love my dad, and I know I scared him, but he’s hovering. I get it, but I need time to breathe too. I swear, he just finds reasons to keep coming in here.
“It’s some murder show.” I take a small breath and let it out. I shouldn’t be upset that my dad wants to make sure I’m okay and spend time with me. I guess after four years of not having anyone to hold my hair back when I was sick or care if my day was good or not, it makes moments like these overwhelming instead of comforting. Mom ruined everything taking me away from here.
“Oh yeah?” he replies and just stands there, looking at the laptop screen as it shows an actress in a reenactment of the real-life woman putting antifreeze in a cup that she will hand to her actor husband in a moment.
“It’s a true crime thing. Netflix suggested it because I watched that Zac Efron as Ted Bundy movie yesterday. It’s about women who kill their lovers. It’s interesting. I put it on more for a background noise, but I’m glued to it. She kills not one but two husbands with antifreeze.”
“Is that right?”
I turn and see Dad nodding his head, probably thinking I’m crazy. Not that I blame him. I never thought this would be so fascinating. I only watched the Ted Bundy thing because I was having a bit of aZac is a hottiemoment yesterday.
I feel the bed dip as Dad sits and stares at the screen while the woman gives her actor husband the cup full of the antifreeze and he drinks it.
Two hours later, Dad and I haven’t moved. I’m snuggled up to his side and feeling happy to be here with him. It took me a little time to relax, but I love having him here. It feels so good to have my dad back.
“I had no idea they could track your phone like that with cell towers.”
Turns out, Dad’s really into crimes of passion like me. It’s funny, because usually he would be watching game tape from the game on Friday. Especially after the loss to the Royals.
“James? Mila?”
“Kate’s here,” Dad says. “And hopefully has the pasta and garlic bread with her.”
My tummy rumbles at the thought of the food I requested for tonight. The hospital meals weren’t great at all…okay, the Jell-O was nice, but I’m craving pasta. She said she would get some for dinner tonight.
“We’re up here, watching how women kill their lovers,” I call out, and Dad’s brows raise at me. I chuckle; it hurts, but I don’t care.
“Don’t be giving her any ideas, Mila,” he jokes as I give him a side hug.
It’s gentle, but it hurts like a bitch. I think I’ve overused my body today. My ribs are a mess. The doctors said I was lucky I didn’t break any and puncture my lungs. I have two with hairline fractures, so I have to take it easy. It hurts to breathe, but I’ve figured out that lying more upright helps ease the pain.
“Your favorite person has arrived to save you.” Asher barrels into my room, his hair still wet from his shower after training. He’s wearing gray sweats and a black tee. “Hey, Coach Hart.” He turns to the laptop to see what we’ve been watching. “Shit, Mila, you’ve been torturing the old man with terrible Netflix.”
“Language, Asher.” Dad sighs as he gets off my bed and stands beside Asher.
Asher clamps his mouth shut. I let out some giggles before I groan silently to myself, not wanting to worry either of them with how much it hurts to laugh.
“Sorry, Coach, I won’t say the ‘o’ word again, I promise.” He does a cross sign over his chest with his finger, and I see my dad’s eye twitch. He’s trying not to laugh at Asher’s antics. It has Asher looking worried, and I hold my hand over my mouth so I don’t ruin the moment by laughing and groaning in pain.
“What’s the ‘o’ word—” I can see the wheels turning in Dad’s head as he works out what Asher means. “I’m not old. You can give me fifty push-ups for that, Asher.”
But you can hear the smile in Dad’s voice; he loves having Asher here. He loves Kate, and it’s obvious how much Asher respects Dad as he drops to the floor and starts doing push-ups without question. I crane my neck to see him on the floor.
“One, two, three…”
“And, Asher, stop calling me Coach at home. I’ve told you to call me James.”
Dad winks at me as he leaves the room and I smile down at Asher. I watch as his muscles bulge and tense.Fuck…my dad loves his mom, and we’re friends. He’s maybe my future stepbrother. I can’t look at him like that.
“You don’t actually have to do them. Dad’s just joking.”
Asher wiggles his brows at me as he continues counting and doing push-ups, looking at me every time he comes up.
