Page 56 of Where It Begins

“Why are you in bed together in the first place? And what the hell went on here last night? The house is a disaster. I told you, three friends over max. I want some answers! Now!” Dad booms.

I cover my ears with my palms and groan.

“I think maybe we should let Miller get dressed and then we can figure it out from there,” Skye says. At least she’s not shrieking anymore. That’s good.

Her eyes are wide with shock and horror. Both are understandable. Especially if I accidentally drunk slept with my future stepsister. I really hope that isn’t what happened. I hope there’s a reasonable excuse for Violet being in my bed that doesn’t include sex I can’t remember.

Skye hustles Violet out of my bedroom, but Dad stays put. He closes the door and crosses his arms. I’ve done plenty of stupid shit in my life, including trying to get into a bar with Randy last year during one of our games up in Canada, but I’ve never seen him this angry in my life. It’s fucking terrifying. It doesn’t help that all I have is a pillow to shield my nakedness. I belatedly realize that both Violet and Skye have now seen my junk. And I was probably sporting a morning chub.

“Well?” Dad’s right eye twitches.

I’m staring at my lap. I look at him for a second. “Huh?”

“Violet is sixteen fucking years old and my fi—girlfriend’s daughter.” His face is an uncomfortable shade of red.

“Maybe you should sit down. Or take an aspirin? Your face.” I stop talking because the twitch in his eye is getting worse.

“Did you put your hands on her?”

“You mean, like, on her fun parts?” That was the very wrongest way to word that sentence, but it’s already out of my mouth and I can’t take it back.

“Did you engage in sexually inappropriate conduct with my girlfriend’s daughter?” His voice is low and quiet, but not in a reassuring way. More in the he’s a powder keg ready to blow way.

I open and close my mouth several times, but no words come out. Because I don’t have the answer to that. I try to stealth like bring my fingers to my nose, because if I did do stuff with Violet, they should tell me. Or the smell should tell me.

Dad’s eyes look like they’re about to bug out of his head. For half a second, I imagine them shooting across the room and pinging around off the walls. I almost laugh. Almost.

Except before I can get my fingers within sniffing distance of my nose, my dad is right there, an iron grip around my wrist.

We stare at each other for a few long, horrible seconds. Because he knows what I was about to do. I feel like I’m about to hurl. And maybe cry.

“Did you touch Violet?” Dad grits from between clenched teeth.

I go with honesty. “I don’t know.” I need to talk to Violet. I don’t think I would have done anything inappropriate, because I know how much my dad likes Skye. And I really like Skye, too. It’s been nice having her around. She’s the cool mom everyone loves because she says the things other moms won’t. And I sincerely hope my stupidity hasn’t fucked this all up for me and my dad.

“You don’tknow?” We both look at my hand.

He releases my wrist and takes a step back. His hands are shaking. His whole body is. And his eyes are still bugging. “How can younotknow?”

I rub my nose.

Relief hits me like an anvil. My right hand smells like soap. “I’m pretty sure nothing happened.”

“Pretty sure?”

The fingers don’t lie. But it doesn’t mean nothing,nothinghappened. Just nothing below the waist. Jesus, I really hope nothing,nothinghappened or I’m going to be grounded until I die.

I don’t have a chance to answer because there’s a soft knock on my bedroom door.

CHAPTERTWENTY

I CANNOT END MY ONLY SON

Sidney

I think my head is going to explode. I have never been as angry at Miller as I am now. Not when he backed his friend’s car into my truck and did three grand in damage to my tailgate two days after he got his driver’s permit. Not when I found out he’d been using my truck to make out with his girlfriend after hockey practice, not even when he and Randy brought girl’s home when I was on a date.

Or the time when he and Randy snuck out of the hotel during an away game and tried to go to a bar, but ended up getting picked up by the cops. Even if I put together every single one of those instances, and rolled all my anger into one giant ball, it wouldn’t compare to the rage I’m rocking.

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