Diary of a Bad Boy(68)
“That’s all you’re going to give me? A shrug? Throw your old man a bone, is there someone in the city you’re talking to?”
Should have known he’d be persistent.
Maybe if I keep things vague, I can get this weight off my shoulders, and then maybe gather some advice because if anything, my dad is really good at helping guide me, always has been.
“Well, there is this guy.”
Rubbing his hands together, he leans forward. “Now we’re talking, tell me all about him.”
Yeah, that won’t be happening.
“We met a few weeks ago and at first I really didn’t like him, but over texts and some few chance encounters, I’ve developed feelings for him.”
“Does he share the same kind of affection?” I nod, knowing fully well Roark does. “If he likes you, why do you have that look on your face?”
I roll my teeth over my bottom lip, trying to put into words what I know about Roark without defining him to my dad.
“He won’t give in to his feelings, at least not for the most part. I don’t want to get into too many details, you know, since you’re my dad and all—”
“All I ask is that you use protection. Do I need to have that conversation again?”
“God, no.” I hold up my hand. “Please, Dad, don’t.”
“Okay, but make sure you’re following everything I taught you.”
“I am.” My face flames, and I know it has nothing to do with the fire in front of me, but rather the burning embarrassment of this conversation.
“Good girl.” He motions with his hand. “Continue. You said he won’t give in to his feelings?”
“Yeah, he had a pretty bad childhood and it’s affecting him now. I think he’s scared he might hurt me, but what he doesn’t realize is he’s already hurting me by not truly being with me.” I sigh and slouch in my chair, pulling my legs into my chest. “All I want is to date him, Dad. I want to be able to go out on dates and hug him when I see him. I want to be affectionate and help him through his bad days, but every time I try, he tells me he’s not good enough for me and no matter what I say, he won’t change his mind.”
Smiling to himself, he says, “That’s how your mom was. Didn’t think she was good enough to be with me, when in fact, she was the reason I was so damn happy all the time. As you know, you came along earlier than planned”—he chuckled—"and she thought she was destroying my chances at a career. Little did she know, she bolstered them. Yes, I had added responsibilities, but having you, both of you, helped drive me to do my very best. I was the lucky one.” He turns toward me and says, “The easy thing would be to give up and move on, but it’s the fight that makes the end result worth it. Don’t give up on what you want, Sutton Grace, even if you get hurt. If he has feelings for you—like he should—don’t give up trying.”
Standing, he stretches his hands over his head and lets out a long yawn. “I’m going to call it a night. Think you can douse the fire yourself?”
“As if you have to ask.”
“Well, now that you’re a city girl and all, thought I might have to remind you.”
He presses a kiss against my head as I say, “You can never take the country out of the girl, Dad.”
“True.” He takes a step toward the house and then says over his shoulder, “We have a week left here, then you can get back to the city to that man of yours. Maybe send him a few texts while you’re here, letting him know you’re thinking about him. It’s a nice gesture.” Is he saying that from experience? “Good night, Sutton Grace. See you in the morning.”
“See you in the morning, Dad.”
Once he’s out of sight, I turn my attention back to the fire, staring at the dancing flames and thinking about what my dad said. He thinks the easy thing would be to give up, and that almost seems more torturous than not trying, because I don’t think getting over Roark would be very easy.
But even with giving in earlier today, he still pushed me away, still apologized for being intimate. And again, he didn’t kiss me on the lips. Why? Are stolen—apologized-for—moments worth that?
No. I don’t want that.
I want him to never apologize for touching me, but to want to touch me more. I want him to have confidence that I truly, madly want him and not just his body, but his soul.
And even though a small part of me believes it can happen, there’s a big part of me that believes no matter what I say, no matter how many times I attempt to show him how much I care, he’ll never change his mind, and I’ll be constantly fighting a losing battle.
The realization of nothing ever happening between us hits me harder than I expected, and tears start to well up in my eyes. I wish he could see the man I see; this overwhelmingly caring dickhead, yet loyal man. I wish he could rid himself of his self-loathing and understand how happy he makes me, even when he’s teasing me, which is most of the time. The glint in his eyes and the tone in his voice reveals there’s a deeper connection between us.
Staring at the fire, I let the tears fall, allowing myself to have this moment. I can’t hold it in any longer; it’s too consuming, too overpowering.
Leaning forward, I rest my arms on my bent knees and then lay my chin on my arms, giving in to the sorrow, the pain, the helplessness I feel when it comes to Roark. If only he would give us a chance, if only—