Page 41 of Hot in Witch City
I had to end the call before we ended up in a screaming match like the many we’d had when I was a teenager. He’d tried to control me. I resisted. He put more restrictions on my life. I rebelled. And on and on.
"I’ve got to go,” I declared.
“Gianna—”
"Bye, Dad." I ended the call and threw the phone onto the sofa. As I paced through my living room, my breath came hard. I twisted my hair, wrapping it around my fingers and then repeated it.
All the frustrations from our past differences welled up. He’d been overprotective my entire life. Terrified I’d end up gallivanting about like my mother, he kept me as sheltered as possible. He’d tried to keep me safe, but it was suffocating. I’d yearned to be free, roam, explore, and experience life. The more he’d curtailed my freedom, the more I resented him.
When he’d married that bitch, Marge, she’d made things a thousand times worse. She constantly pestered me, telling me how to dress and act. She criticized everything, insinuating I’d be perceived as a whore.
They forbade me from dating, and that sparked my rebellion. I was half-siren and wouldn’t be ashamed of it. I’d do whatever I pleased. And why not, since I was accused of much worse?
My father knew nothing about my mother anymore. He could have been just as guilty of slut shaming and slamming her all these years the way I’d been by the mean girls growing up. If there was anyone who could understand being falsely slandered, it was me.
Maybe I’d been looking at my mother from one angle for far too long. I knew what my father was like. He might have driven her away the same way he’d done to me.
Perhaps it was time to give her the benefit of the doubt.
While I trudgedalong the shore the next day, Sebastian called. A few inches of snow had fallen overnight, and the sea breeze wasn’t biting, but I still had to pull up my furry hood when it rolled in.
I’d gone for a swim earlier and was still salty about the conversation with my father, unable to keep the foul mood from my voice.
"Is something wrong, Gianna?" he asked.
Did he really want to hear this? Since I’d already told him about the situation with my mother, it didn’t hurt to give him a condensed version. "I talked to my father yesterday and told him about my mother being in town.”
“I’m guessing he didn't take it well."
“Not at all.” I maneuvered around driftwood tangled up in seaweed. “He’s not her biggest fan considering she ran out on him and left him with a newborn.”
“That must have been tough.” He exhaled. “How are you taking it?”
A gust of wind rolled in, and I wrapped my free arm around myself before I could reply. "I'm still coming to terms with everything.” I laughed. “Or trying to avoid dealing with it."
“Sounds like you could use some more comfort food.”
“Is that your answer to all of life’s problems?” I teased.
“Or comfort sex.”
I giggled. He suggested it in a playful tone, but it was highly appealing. “Tempting, but I have plans to meet up with Nova for dinner later.”
“Where are you going?”
I gazed at the stretch of horizon ahead with the afternoon sun bright over the ocean. “Not sure.”
“You could come to my restaurant. I’m working tonight. It would be my treat.”
“Sebastian, you don’t have to do that. You don’t need to take care of me.”
“I know I don’t. But I like to.”
I was used to being independent, insisting I take care of myself, but the way Sebastian offered me food and an ear to listen to my problems was kind of nice. What that meant between us, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to lead him on.
Were we becoming friends?
Ha, I didn’t have irresistible urges to sleep with any of my other friends. And Ididwant to see him again.
