Unbeautifully (Undeniable, #2)(49)

“Yes,” I choked out, my hand over my pounding heart, trying desperately to swallow the sudden anxiety that, at the sound of my father’s voice, had lodged itself in my throat.

“Yeah, well, I’m back, so when you comin’ home?”

“Tomorrow,” I said quickly.

There was a long pause. “Like to spend some time with you, baby girl,” he said gruffly. “I know I’ve been—”

“Don’t,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut, counteracting my burgeoning tears.

“Danny girl,” he said softly. “I—”

“Please, Daddy, don’t do this now, not over the phone.”

I could absolutely not listen to his excuses and apologies right now, not while I was happy for the first time in over a year. I wasn’t going to let him ruin this for me too.

He cleared his throat. “I just wanna see my daughter, Danny, that’s all. I know I got some time to make up for.”

Between his recent parental absenteeism and his inability to salvage his relationship with the only woman on earth who’d ever truly loved him despite his many faults, he suddenly wanted to do some father/daughter bonding?

What had changed?

But no matter how much I wanted to scream at him, to tell him he didn’t deserve to spend time with me, I couldn’t. He’d taken Cage and me when our mother ran off, no questions asked, and never once complained about it. He’d always made sure we were cared for in his absence. Yes, there were a lot of absences, and yes, he could be a hard man, a brooding, miserable man, a man who was better at running and hiding than expressing his feelings.

But he was my father.

And I loved him.

“Eva’s home,” he continued when I didn’t say anything.

She was? With him? Had he found his missing heart in North Dakota?

“Are you…together?” I asked, hoping and praying they were.

I felt Ripper’s arms snake around my middle and pull me backward, feeling his thick ropey scars as his chest slid up my bare back. He pressed a kiss into my hair and a tear snuck through the corner of my closed lids. I quickly swiped it away.

“We’re together,” my father said quietly. “Asked her to marry me last night.”

All breath fled my lungs.

“What did she say?” I whispered.

“What the f*ck do you think?”

I smiled. Now that sounded more like my father. “Yes?”

“Yeah, darlin’,” he said gruffly. “She said yes.”

I sucked in a deep breath. She’d said yes. She’d said yes. Things were going to finally get back to normal. I was going to have my family back. No more lonely nights spent eating dinner alone and watching bad television.

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” I said, my voice firmer.

“Good,” he said and hung up.

I pressed end and set my phone back down.

“Your old man?” Ripper asked.

“Yeah,” I whispered, turning in his arms and snuggling into his embrace. “He asked Eva to marry him.”

“No shit? Damn. Didn’t see that shit comin’.”

I scattered kisses along the largest scar on his chest. One of his hands found the small of my back and the other slid up into my hair, gripping my head. “Neither did I,” I murmured. “But you know what this means?”

“We’re gonna f*ck again?”

“No,” I whispered. It meant if my father was happy again, Ripper might be able to tell him about us without worrying about flying bullets.

“Baby,” he said, studying me. “You’re thinkin’ again.”

“I’m not.”

“Nose is all scrunched up, eyes unfocused, lips parted. Yeah, you’re thinkin’ again.”

I scowled at him. “You think you know everything.”

“No,” he said softly. “I don’t know shit, never did. But, baby, for some f*ckin’ reason, I know you. Crazy, yeah?”

“Ripper,” I whispered, staring up into his eyes, a deep beautiful blue, one real and one made of glass, thinking about how right it felt to be with him. “We can tell him now,” I said, feeling hopeful. “We could wait awhile but then—”

Ripper let out an exasperated sigh as he pushed me away from him. Rolling unto his back, he glared up at the ceiling.

“No, Danny, how many times I gotta tell you, no one is tellin’ him nothin’. It ain’t gonna matter if Eva and him are doin’ better, he ain’t never gonna let me be with you. I get smacked in the head just for lookin’ at you. What do you think is gonna happen if he finds out I’ve been doin’ a whole lot more than lookin’?” Shaking his head, he grimaced. “And on your prom night. Jesus, I’m a f*ckin’ dirtbag.”

“Thanks for the self-esteem boost,” I muttered.

“Baby,” he said, turning to look at me. “Bein’ with you is worth winnin’ dirtbag of the year, yeah? Now, shut the f*ck up about tellin’ your old man, it ain’t happenin’. Not until you’re at least thirty.”

“Fine.” I sighed, knowing after spending nearly a week with him that it was pointless to keep arguing.

“Good, glad we agree. What you need to be doin’ is gettin’ your own place.”