Page 133 of Panic-Button
My father led us to a back room where Preston began ticking things off a list. Supplies, I assumed, based on the crates of water. After that, blankets and pews were cataloged where beds would be set up. Then into my father’s office, where Preston checked the evacuation map for neighborhoods delegated to this point.
The entire time we walked around, one thing picked at the back of my brain. Why wasn’t my father surprised to see me? As far as he knew, I was across the country. So, why didn’t he say anything when I showed up with Preston Whitley, of all people? Did he really not care about me?
There were pictures of Trina everywhere in this room, but not a single one of me. Even the one on his desk was gone. Was I that much of a disappointment that he washed his hands of his daughter the second I was no longer his responsibility?
That was when it hit me.
“You knew.”
Both Preston and my father stopped looking at the map on his desk and turned their heads my way.
“You knew he was going to take me?”
Preston was the one who answered. “He signed a contract last year.”
What the hell was Preston talking about?
“What kind of contract?”
“The kind that gives you to me.” He said it like it was a normal thing.
“What!” I shrieked. “You gave me away? To him.”
My father had done many things to me, but this hurt more than any of the scars marring my skin.
As if he was bored, my father sighed. “You made your bed, Marnie. Now, you can lay in it.”
“I’m your daughter.” I stomped my foot on the ground, attempting to hold back the tears burning in my eyes.
“You stopped being my daughter the instant you let another man touch you.”
That raised Preston’s brow, but I was too upset to care what he heard or knew.
“I was seven. You were supposed to protect me, not throw me to the wolves.”
“I knew you weren’t right from the moment you were born and tried to take your mother’s life.” My father stood up and straightened his shoulders. “Quite frankly, I’m glad to have your taint out of my house.”
Was that all I was to him? The tainted child he was cursed with raising?
“Did you ever love me?”
Not even a flicker of emotion flashed across his face. “It’s not a father’s job to love his children.”
But he loved Trina. Evidence of that was all through my childhood.
The damn holding back my pain broke. I let all the years of agony and rage pour down my face in fat, salty drops. The truth of what I’d always known was too much to bear. Trina was the daughter he wanted. I was nothing more than a burden. He didn’t even care how hurt I was.
But Preston did.
He marched across the room and cupped my face in his hands. “He doesn’t deserve your pain.”
“But he’s my—”
“No, he’s not.” He cut me off. “He’s just the man that brought you to me.”
I don’t know what came over me, but when I stared up into those gray pools, all I could see was that spark I’d seen in the woods. The next thing I knew, my arms were around Preston’s neck, and my mouth was on his. I kissed him without restraint or holding back my pain.
Every tear I’d shed was poured into that kiss. I didn’t care that my father was in the room or about the people Preston Whitley hurt. I clung to the monster who took me and kissed him with everything I had.
