Page 70 of Beneath the Hood

It’s never me.

“Hi,” I murmur, opening up the fridge so I don’t have to meet his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.” His tone is light. Teasing. But try as I might, I can’t find it in me to match his amusement.

“You sure about that?” I huff under my breath.

“What was that?” he asks.

I spin from the fridge, gripping the water bottle tight in my hand. “Nothing.” I shake my head, forcing a smile on my face. “It’s just nice to see you is all.”

His eyes light up with his grin and my chest pulls tight. It’s so rare to see it, I had almost forgotten it existed.

He places the newspaper down, picking up his mug and sipping. “I thought we could spend the day together.”

His request pierces through my skin, squeezing my heart until it’s numb to the bruising.

My teeth sink into my lower lip and gnaw, my mind like a seesaw as I weigh the pros and cons, resisting the urge to cancel everything that’s on my schedule just to appease him. But then I remember that he’s never done the same for me and resentment billows inside of me, wondering why, in a world where money is limitless and everyone knows my name, I can’t make my father love me enough to put me first.

My jaw tics and I straighten. “Oh, sorry. I can’t today.”

His smile drops, a melancholy shadow swirling through the chocolate of his eyes. A sting finds its way to the center of my chest, but I bat it away, letting his voice from the other day play through my head, reminding me of all the ways he thinks I’m up forlease.

He frowns. “Can’t rearrange your schedule, just this once?”

My brows shoot to my hairline. The irony in his question is rich and it tastes a lot like hypocrisy. How many times have I asked him to rearrange his work schedule for me, and how many times has he actuallydoneit?

“Sorry, nope. I know you don’t consider what I do work, but it is,and I can’t just cancel things. Especially since I’m spending most of my time at Donahue Motors, working foryou.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s for your own good.”

I cross my arms. “And suddenly you’re an expert on what’s good for me?”

Hurt flashes across his face and it makes my stomach tighten. I squeeze the water bottle in my hand to keep from apologizing.

“First of all, cut the attitude.” His eyes narrow and anger spikes through my stomach. “Secondly, I just don’t want to see all of your wasted potential thrown away. You need direction, and I can give you that.”

I need a father.

It’s on the tip of my tongue, but instead of letting it out, I gulp around the words, my eyes watering from the sting as they drop back down and settle in my chest.

“Look, Dad.” I sigh. “The only wasted potential here is our relationship.” I glance away as I say it, not wanting to see whether my jab will hit its mark, or worse, if he’ll seem unfazed.

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” I shoot back. A knot of emotion surges through my throat and teases the back of my eyelids. “You know what’s not fair? That I’m doing what you ask. I’malwaysdoing what you ask. I’ve given up my own dreams to placate your wish that I sit behind a reception desk and do absolutely nothing. You want to talk about wasted potential? Let’s start there.”

My chest heaves as I suck in a deep breath, my free hand clenching into a fist at my side.

One. Two. Three.

His forehead creases. “Let’s talk about it, then. What’s your dream, Blakely?”

His question catches me off guard, my hand reaching up to rub at the sudden ache in my chest. “It’s...”

A pit opens in the center of my stomach when the words don’t come. My rehearsed lines, my goals from the past few years, suddenly none of it seems concrete. Not the way it used to be. Now... now I just feel like I’m wading in murky water, trying like hell to find solid ground.

My spine stiffens and I stick out my chin. “If you don’t know that by now then I don’t know what to tell you.”

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