Page 27 of Screwing With The Scrooge

“I guess? But I think that they’ll like it.”

“I need to find Olive something else,” I tell him, and he nods towards a jewelry store. “No… she needs new baking sheets.”

“How romantic,” Townes grumbles as we head towards the cookware store.

I ignore him. I know that Olive will love it. Her whole face lights up whenever I say or do something that she mentions. She’s been taking care of everyone, paying attention to what they need so that she can give it to them, and I want to do the same for her. When I brought her those shoes yesterday, she looked at me like I was her hero. I want her to keep doing that.

We grab wrapping paper on our way to the checkout and then have to fight our way out of the mall and back to my truck. It’s another forty minutes back to Wolf Valley, and I drop Townes off at his place first.

“See you tomorrow,” I say as he hops out.

“See ya.”

He grabs his bags and heads inside, and I smile as I drive back to my place. It’s still early so I know that Olive is at the bakery. I debate heading that way, just so I can see her, but I should wrap the presents before she comes over tonight. I have a feeling that Olive is the type of person who would peek to see what you got her.

I smile at the thought as I park and start to carry everything inside. I’m unlocking the door when an old truck pulls into my driveway. My stomach sinks as soon as I see it.

“Dad,” I say, dropping the bags inside the house and turning to meet him in the drive.

I don’t want him to ever step foot inside of my house. I thought that we had agreed on that, albeit silently. I haven’t seen him once since I moved back to town and it’s been a blessing.

I take him in now. He still looks just as miserable as I remember, but his hair has more gray and his face is weathered. He looks a lot older than he is.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him.

“Nice to see you too, son,” he says, that same bitter edge in his tone.

I want to say that it’s not nice to see him. That I would be happier to never see him again, but I bite my tongue. I don’t want to start a fight. I want him to say whatever it is that he came here for and then leave me the hell alone.

“I’m kind of busy,” I start, and he looks around my property.

I can feel every muscle in my body tense just by being in his presence. All of those memories from my childhood slam into me and I feel on edge. I can hear his voice in my head, calling me worthless, promising that no one would ever love me and I start to grow dizzy.

I swallow, trying to blink away the black dots clouding my vision.

“I know. That’s why I’m here,” he says, and I blink.

“What?”

My dad’s mouth flattens at that and I’m transported back to every time I was around my dad growing up. It didn’t matter if I had gotten straight A’s on my report card or when I enlisted. He has always been angry and disappointed in me.

Exhaustion swamps me and I lean against the railing on my porch.

“I’ve seen you around town with that little girl who runs the bakery.”

I grit my teeth, waiting for him to go on, even though I already know what he’s going to say.

“You need to leave her alone. Let her be happy. Let her be alive,” he snarls at me, and I flinch.

“I didn’t kill mom. It was an accident,” I tell him, and he shakes his head.

“You would have been fine until the storm passed, but no, you just had to be selfish.”

“I was sick,” I stress.

I don’t know why I bother. Nothing that I say will make any difference to him.

“I wish that it had been you,” I whisper, and his angry blue eyes snap to mine.

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