Page 91 of Faking Forever 1
I hope he doesn’t hate me for that.
He might not have me to get on his nerves or cover up his dumb decisions when need be, but Josh seems to have no problemtaking my place. I won’t raise any questions or concerns, but I never thought Tate would be looking to Josh as his inspiration going into adulthood. However, I’d prefer him over a guy like Nick or Beau.
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Now, I had to explain to my dad that Big Red, once again, had broken down. I’m starting to feel guilty whenever I have to tell him the news. His animosity has only grown since he discovered that Josh and I being together could be a real couple.
He refuses to acknowledge him when he’s around and makes matters worse by icing me out when he knows I have plans with him. He didn’t even bother to see how the camping trip was until my mom pointed out that I wrecked my shit on a landslide.
She begged for me to at least think about going to a doctor, but since I was alive and kicking, what was the point? I shielded my head pretty well, and above all, that’s the critical part. A couple of scrapes and bruises won’t make me shy away from living my life. I think my dad was hoping it would, though. He wasn’t ready for me to shower and go right back to my endless summer fun and not mention anything about it.
I know he knows that I have no innocence left to me, and he can’t dictate how I use my body or display myself.
I walk into my front door, pulling my shopping bags through the doorway with me. After managing to make them all fit through, I set them all down and set my keys and wallet on the island so I could get myself a cold bottle of water from the fridge. Tate is sitting at the island, scrolling on his phone as my dad makes what I could guess was his seventh cup of coffee today.
Getting a cold bottle, I close the fridge, walking over to Tate to sit beside him, “Daddy… um, don’t be mad at me please, but—the truck broke down again, and I got a ride home.” I blurt out the last half of my sentence, wanting to close my eyes after.
He turns around, setting his cup on the counter. “Why didn’t 217
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you call me? I told you to call me when that happens.”
“I would’ve, but someone saw me and offered a ride.” I crack open my bottle. I won’t dare bring up Nicholas and risk him thinking I’m sleeping around.
He sighs and mixes the liquid in the mug. “It’s fine,” he says, shaking his head.
It’snotfine. Just tell me I’m a shitty daughter already, Joeseph.
“So where is it?” he asks, getting his cigarette pack from his breast pocket.
He takes them out, packing them against his palm.
“On the parkway. By the exit. Y’know, if I ask Josh to pick it up, then—”
“No. I don’t want that kid touching the truck.”
He denies my wishes before listening to them and sipping his coffee. Tate looks at me, desperately wanting to say something.
“Thatkidis your best friend’s son, Daddy. You can’t hate him all of a sudden because you’re mad at me.” I outburst.
“I told you I don’t hate him. I’m simply not a fan of him groping my daughter, Paisley—that’s a different matter.” he retorts.
“He doesn’tgropeme,” my upper lip raises in disgust, “He loves me.”
My dad has a laugh that screams he doesn’t take me seriously—or any of this seriously. It’s no surprise, but why does it hurt worse when he expresses it without remorse?
“You’re young, Paisley. You’ll fall in love a million times in this life,” he says.
“No.” I push myself up from my chair, “Not like this—Josh is different.”
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“The boy has anger issues, Paisley. You go away for a while, and he’s nice, so you think he’s a changed man. I understand that. But men will be men.” he scolds me, drinking more of his horrid black oil in a cup.
