Page 40 of Hot in Witch City
If she rejected me, which was almost certain to be the case, I doubted I’d be able to recover.
It would destroy me.
Chapter 8
Gianna
After another explosive night with Sebastian and a mind-bending quickie this morning, he insisted I stayed for breakfast. When I returned to my townhouse, guilt swarmed around me like aggressive wasps. I shouldn’t lead Sebastian on by sleeping with him again. Yet I couldn’t deny this attraction. I couldn’t stay away.
Would I end up hurting him like my mother did my father?
It was time I faced the inevitable and made the phone call I’d been putting off. I had to tell my father what was going on.
When he answered the phone, I said, "Hey Dad, how are you?"
“Fine. We played golf earlier. I'm gonna grill some steaks soon."
He and Marge, my stepmother, moved down to Florida because she wanted to get away from New England winters. She’d harassed him to go almost as soon as they got married, but he’d insisted I finish out school in Salem where there were others with supernatural blood. Whether that was good for me was iffy. The girls loved to slut shame me but at least I had Nova. If we hadn't had each other to rely on to get through the hell of high school, I don't know what would've happened.
Right, this had been the better option for me. It was better to be an outcast with another freak in my pod than to be alone and on my own.
My father gave me a quick overview of their highlights, which included golf, barbecues, and more blah, blah, blah. We were never close, and we didn’t speak that often since I’d moved out. At first, it was about once a week. Now, it was around every month, basically to let him know that I was still alive.
I assured him that I was doing fine before I launched into the bombshell reason of my call. "Someone unexpected showed up at the club on New Year's Eve."
"Who?" He asked in a casual tone as if expecting it to be a former schoolmate or something.
I pursed my lips and then admitted, "My mother."
"Yourwhat?" he barked into the phone.
I held the phone a few inches from my ear and stared at it. Sure, I expected surprise, but there was pure vehemence in his voice.
"My mother stopped by the club," I repeated.
After a few palpable seconds passed, he asked, "What did she want?" His voice was edged with contempt.
"She said she was in town and wanted to get to know me."
"I don't believe it,” he dismissed. “I don't believe anything that woman says. If she came to you after all this time, it’s because she wants something."
Although I’d been wary of her myself, my decades-long clashing with my father put me on the defensive. "You don't know that for certain, Dad."
He snorted. "I know that woman and wouldn't trust her with anything."
I bit my lip as I glanced outside the window and counted to five. The finely manicured grounds of the townhouse rested under a snowy blanket for the winter, including the rhododendron that I loved to see in bloom. "You knew her twenty-five years ago. Who knows how she's changed since then? Maybe she's mellowed with time and regrets leaving."
"No, not her. Whatever she says, don't believe it. In fact, you should avoid her completely."
I knew he would react negatively to hearing this news, but telling me not to see my own mother?
"Dad, I’ve spent my life wondering who she is and why she left. I want answers."
He was quiet for a few seconds. "I understand that, Gianna.” His voice was gentler. “But she’s trouble. She is incapable of loving you the way you deserve. That's why she left. She's cold and heartless and will only end up hurting you more. I’m telling you for your own good—you must stay away from her."
I gritted my teeth. He’d often told me things ‘for my own good.’ "I'm not going to do that. I need to know more about who I am."
"It’s a bad idea." The tense warning in his tone indicated we wouldn’t find any common ground in this conversation.
