Page 110 of Jig's Last Dance

He looks away, his mouth twisting into a snarl. “Because my dad wanted something he couldn’t have.”

“What?”

“He wanted it all. Look, I have to go,” he says, and sagging against the couch cushions, I watch him leave before closing my eyes.

I’m tired, achy, and scared. I’m also alone unless Bastion plans to join team Alice. Somehow, I don’t see that being a long-term thing.

Chapter Sixteen

Isleep soundly through the night. In the morning, I wake to a tingling sensation on my cheeks and open my eyes slowly.

It takes a moment to focus, and my heart jackknifes in my chest to find a blurry form standing in the kitchen. Sitting up cautiously, I blink the sleep from my eyes and croak, “Dad?”

At first, I think I’m still dreaming, my mind conjuring him because I’ve been so lost. And I’m gearing up for the disappointment when this fades to my reality. Except, he doesn’t waver or fade and with a pained laugh, I clutch my chest. I can’t believe my eyes. I never thought I’d see my dad again. He is alive!

I didn’t recognize him at first, with his hair a wild halo around his face and a bushy beard covering his jaw. It’s a sight I’ve never seen because my dad has always been very precise about his grooming. So much so, he never went a day without shaving.

He makes no move to speak, staring at me from where he’s leaning against the sink.

His cool gaze roots me to the spot, and I falter. There’s no joy on his face. It’s as though he doesn’t know me. And when he doesn’t so much as twitch, I glance at the door.

What’s going on?

He cocks his head, tracking my movements, and I freeze, goosebumps rising on my skin. Is this the Ice Man everyone speaks of? Where did my dad go?

“Dad? Talk to me,” I plead, biting my trembling lip.

Finally, he breaks from his trance and looks away, the distance he’s put between us evident in the way his body is turned away from me. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Game? What game?” I ask helplessly. I haven’t seen him in over three years, and he refuses to even look at me.

His brows slam over his nose. “Leave this alone, Alice,” he rasps. “Nothing good can come of it.”

“But . . . you’re alive,” I say, smiling wanly.

“No,” he says, slashing his hand through the air, “I’m not. You never saw me. Do you understand?”

Shrinking at his harsh tone, I nod rapidly and say, “Yes.”

But I don’t understand a damn thing, including why my father is looking at me like I’m a total stranger.

“I mean it. If you tell anyone . . .”

“Okay,” I say, wiping the tears from my face as he turns to the door.

This man giving me stern warnings isn’t my father. My dad was hard, yes, but he always had a twinkle in his eyes. He made time to hold me when I was sick and read me bedtime stories to keep me entertained. He taught me to ride a bike with never-ending patience when I whined about giving up. He kissed my forehead whenever he came home and asked me about me.

This man is a stranger, and I’m struggling to understand whether I ever truly knew him at all.

“Is it true?” I whisper, and he pauses with his hand on the knob. “Is Uncle Sal, my, um, dad?”

The silence that follows raises the hair on my nape, and I shrink against the couch, the air around me decidedly chilly.

Flinging the door open, he rasps, “Stay away from Blackstone.”

With that, he’s gone. Leaving me with no answers but a lot more fucking questions. What the hell?

I don’t know how to process what just happened, so I use the bathroom to clean up and borrow a huge ass shirt that covers my dirty dress before searching out how far the school is from here.

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