Page 40 of Returning Your Love
“This is the fifth time this year, Charles.” His tone bled frustration, same as always.
“Haven’t gotten to administrative or money stuff yet this week,” I mumbled, wondering why the fuck he was so obsessed with my shortcomings. “Been busy.”
“I recently learned that’s what Shelly has been complaining about to your mother for the previous couple of months.” Disappointment coated his words and leaked into my ears like an oil slick, black and not easily scrubbed away.
Fucking hell, that woman…Shelly had no clue the hornet’s nest she messed with by oversharing with Mom. Riling up my mom meant pissing off Dad. He might be a grade-A asshole when it came to his only child, but he adored his wife and worshiped the ground she walked on. It was too bad Mom hadn’t recognized the power she had over him and set him straight whenever he’d bullied me as a kid. She’d been raised to act like a fifties housewife who didn’t talk back or complain, the perfect helpmate for my father.
Made me want to fucking puke and definitely had caused a root of bitterness inside me toward the woman who should have put me first.
“I’m working my ass off, Dad, trying to pay the bills as quickly as I can,” I finally replied through gritted teeth.
“One would think the loan would take precedence over a tab at Frenchie’s.”
My eyelids slammed shut. So hehadheard about the alcohol consumption lately. But had he paid attention to the gossip of who sat at the bar slamming back shots with friends? “I’m not the one with the booze problem, Dad.”
“Is that so, son? I’ve heard you’re often there right alongside your wife, drinking down that vile horse piss.”
Only twice since July had I done that, but who was counting? Hell, I hadn’t gotten anywhere near drunk either night, but that didn’t mean jack shit to Dad. He only ever saw the negative, and his mind was unable to focus on anything that might resemble me getting something right for a change.
I tossed aside my tools and strode back toward the office, intent on doing what I should have done Monday to avoid this type of confrontation.
“You need to keep your wife in line before she further soils the Henderson name.” His stern statement came as no surprise, but at least I managed to withhold from snorting or spouting off curses that would only make him shake his head with even more disappointment.
My hand shook as I scribbled out a check out to Clifford Henderson, unloving father and unforgiving-as-fuck loan holder. Heat lay on my cheeks when I handed it over, gaze somehow steady on him.
He’d followed me to my office but had stopped in the doorway, glancing around my unkempt space, his nose wrinkled, while accepting my two days’ late payment. “I wouldsuggest hiring someone to help around this pigsty, but you obviously can’t afford another laborer when you can barely make ends meet.”
I gritted my teeth. How much had Shelly told Mom?
“Your mother said you’re coming for dinner on Sunday?”
An electrical current rushed through me as the real plans I had for that day whipped through my mind, keeping me from getting pissed about his observations of my office.
“Nope, won’t be able to,” I corrected without feeling bad in the slightest. “I’ve got money to bring in so next month isn’t the sixth time you have to go out of your way to even speak to me.”
“Charles.” He pressed his lips tight, and thank fucking hell the office phone rang.
“Gotta get that—you can see yourself out.” I turned my back on Dad and settled into my squeaky chair, reaching for the phone.
Dad left without another word, disappearing out the door.
I answered the phone, my pulse still thrumming, heart in my throat. “Henderson Auto.”
“Chaz? It’s Sutton.”
A grin split my face, and I released a huge exhale in attempts to calm my nerves. “Hey, Chief. What’s going on?”
“Are you at the shop?”
Dad had disappeared through the bay’s open door, thank fuck, but the worry in Sutton’s tone flatlined my lips.
“Yeah. Everything okay?” I asked, my voice still shaky from Dad’s little visit.
“Shelly’s been in a car accident. You need to get down to the hospital in Berlin as quickly as you can.”
I blinked, dust motes slowly falling in the patch of fading sunlight filtering through the shop’s dirty windows.
No way I’d heard him right. Shelly was with Tara. Heading to Boston for the weekend.
