Fighting Fate (Granton University #1)(56)

“How about you get off my back,” he sneered, raising an eyebrow in challenge as he looked her in the eye and intentionally popped off the cap. “It’s Christmas.” Then he tipped his head back and took a long guzzle.

Sighing quietly as she forfeited the fight, Paige set down the spatula she’d been holding. She’d learned a lot about herself and a lot about grieving in the past couple months. Her group at Granton had healed her in ways she hadn’t even known she’d been hurt. And she just wanted her father to experience a little bit of the same ease from his own suffering.

If she didn’t at least try to reach him, no one else would, so she set her shoulders firmly. “Dad, I know this is the first year we’ve had to go through the holidays without Mom but—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice was harsh and commanding, leaving her no room to respond without outright pushing. He flung a single glare at her and turned away to leave the kitchen.

She followed him. “Well, I do. You are the only family I have left, Paul Zukowski. And I can’t just give up on you the way you’ve given up on yourself.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” he roared. He swung around with his bottle pointed at her.

She must have miscalculated how close she’d moved to him, though. Instead of pointing, he cracked her in the cheekbone hard with the side of the glass. The bottle shattered from the force of his swing, and Paige was pitched to the floor, momentarily blinded as pain streaked across her jaw.

Crouched on her hands and knees among the broken glass, she trembled for a good second before sitting up and hesitantly lifting her hand to her face. When her fingers came away wet and sticky—and red, she gaped at them before looking up at her father.

He stared back, obviously dumbfounded. Then he shook his head, bunched his jaw with rage, and yelled, “Damn it, now! Why were you standing so close?”

Too flustered to answer, Paige moved her mouth without actually speaking. But the action shot white-hot heat through her jaw, so she winced and cupped her cheek to keep it still.

After running his hands through his hair and looking wild and undecided about what to do, her dad belted out a couple more curses and staggered from the room.

Paige remained on the floor, sitting only a few feet from where her mother had last lay. When a drop of blood splattered to the tile, her teeth began to chatter.

Pushing clumsily upright, she tripped toward the counter and grabbed a paper towel. She hurried to her room, shut the door silently, and collapsed onto her bed. The mirror next to her closet beckoned her, but she refused to look, couldn’t bear to see how bad it was.

The injury throbbed through her head, making one side of her face feel swollen and inflamed.

She blinked repeatedly. At least her vision wasn’t harmed.

When her cell phone rang, she jumped, quickly checking the ID. She hoped maybe Bailey or Tess was calling to wish her a Merry Christmas. She needed a dose of Granton like she couldn’t believe. But when she saw Kayla’s name, she closed her eyes and sniffed.

She couldn’t talk to Kayla right now. Kayla would know something was wrong and come racing over. And not only did Paige not want Kayla losing her affection for Paul, but she didn’t want to go through the confrontation over what she’d just learned. And she knew the next time she saw her friend, she’d have to confront her. Otherwise, she’d never be able to forgive her.

When the phone stopped ringing and dinged, telling her the caller had left a message, Paige finally cried.

She wanted to go back to Granton, the only place she really felt like herself. But the dorms wouldn’t open again until after the new year. She’d have to wait at least ten more days before she could leave.

For some reason, she thought about Logan Xander, wondering what he did by himself on holidays without his family. Did he feel as alone right now as she did? At least his father hadn’t physically struck him.

Her brain wandered to the night before. She’d hugged him, actually wrapped her arms around him and felt safe and content in his warm, solid embrace.

The way he’d whispered “thank you” into her ear haunted her as much as it invigorated. Despite how horribly wrong her attempt to reconnect with her father had gone, at least she’d been able to reach Logan and give him a certain peace of mind.

But what would Trace think about all this warmth she was feeling for his arch-enemy? For the guy who’d kissed Kayla?

God, she couldn’t think. She just wanted to stop thinking forever. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to fall asleep, where she didn’t dream at all.

A splitting headache woke her from her midmorning nap. Finding the courage to face a mirror, she stumbled into the bathroom and checked the damage. The paper towel she’d pressed to the cut while she’d fallen asleep had dried to her skin. Dampening a washcloth, she dabbed the area until she was able to peel the tissue away.

Thankfully, the cut wasn’t all that deep; it had just bled a lot. Only a thin slice marred her skin. Well, a thin slice along with a healthy, bright red bruise and puffy cheek.

She cleaned it as best as she could, sucking in a sharp breath whenever she tried to scrub away the dried blood. Her entire body throbbed by the time she finished. After taking two capsules of painkillers, she returned to the kitchen to find her scrambled eggs gone and the pan she’d cooked them in washed and put away. Her father was nowhere on the property.