Page 44 of Relapse
Unfortunately, my father wouldn’t accept anything less than perfect, and I was far from perfect. Something I was reminded about daily.
Thinking the subject was dropped, I settled into class.
Five minutes before the bell rang, Lana leaned back over. “Are you still going to play daddy’s princess, after what he did?”
Time froze as my eyes snapped up to hers. “After what who did?”
She knew!
My pulse thrummed wildly when her gaze shifted down to my stomach. Alarm bells rang through my mind and all I could think was,not her. Please God, not her.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Harper.”
Doing my best to stop my stare from narrowing, I sat back and eyed my best friend. Searching the lines of concern on her face for any hint of confusion or unsureness.
She didn’t know.
“Have you been listening to gossip again?”
“Fine, don’t tell me.” Lana rolled her shoulders back and slammed her text book shut. “I just have one question. Were you lying seven years ago, too?”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Technically, I didn’t lie to Lana. She didn’t ask me what happened when she came to visit me in the hospital, and I didn’t tell her. I didn’t correct her either. I let her believe what everyone else said. Why I never confided in my best friend, I couldn’t say.
I thought about it. Sometimes we’d be sitting in her room alone and the words would be right there, ready to come out. Then I’d remember the last time I saw my mother and I’d swallow them back down. A part of me was terrified Lana would hate me if she knew how pathetic I was.
Lana was waiting for an answer, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I couldn’t accuse him. Not again. I couldn’t tell her the truth, either.
“Go on, Freckles.” Mason spun around and narrowed his eyes on me. “Your friend asked you a question, and I gotta say, I’d love to hear the answer.”
Not sure what else to do, I hung my head and hid behind my hair. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Of course you don’t,” he snorted.
I’d never been more happy to hear the bell ring out as I was then.
Mason didn’t say anything else. Thankfully he just grabbed his books and got up. He wasn’t the one I should’ve been afraid of.
“Alright Harper, if you don’t want to help yourself,” Lana tipped her head my way, “Then I’ll do it for you.”
Panic seized my muscles as she pranced past Mason and grumbled, “I’d look into her father if I were you.”
I spenta lot of time thinking about ways to fuck with people. Silas, my brother, and Lou in particular. Some might say I got a kick out of pissing people off, and I kind of did. But that wasn’t why I had Silas’s room made over in princess theme, or sent a male strip-o-gram to Lou at work. Anything was better than being stuck in my own head, trying to make sense out of the chaos storm waging a war in my brain.
Why did she do this? Why did he say that? And all the other crap I’d never get answers for. It was exhausting and unending. The only time I got a little peace was when I was high or drunk.
Alcohol and drugs helped numb the pain, but they didn’t take it away. Nothing did. But numb was better than the alternative. Sucking back a nice cold beer sounded like a fantastic idea right now, and all because of one person.
Ned Callaghan.
All day I’d been going over every single thing I knew about the asshole – which wasn’t much. Other than a few childhood encounters, I didn’t really give a shit about the guy. I knew more about Silas’s balls than I did about him. Seemed weird, considering how much time I used to spend with his daughter. I didn’t even know the prick’s birthday.
Why?
Was I not paying attention, or did he not want me to pay attention? How many skeletons did he have in his closet? What was he hiding? Because everyone hid something. And if I did figure it out, where would his secrets lead me?
Down a useless road of sketchy business deals, or to somewhere else? It was driving me crazy. I grew up with Ned. Fuck sakes, I spent more time at his house than I did my own. I should know something about him, right?
Fucking Lana Crawford. This crap was all her fault. She wasn’t exactly what I’d call an ally. In fact, I was pretty sure if I was doused in gasoline, she’d be the first to toss a match my way. The girl fucking hated me.
