Fire Inside (Chaos #2)(55)
He didn’t heed my warning.
“Please understand. I started that downstairs because I’m worried about you, Lanie. Your mother and I are both worried. Very worried, and we have been for years. You’ve been alone for a long time and a beautiful girl like you, a girl with your heart… honey, that’s just not natural.”
I made no reply, just kept packing.
“I love her,” he whispered, and pain seared through me.
“Not another word, Dad.”
“I love both of them.”
Oh God!
I stopped and whirled on him. “Not another word, Dad.”
“Can you imagine, living years, loving two women, knowing what you’re doing to both of them?”
“No, I can’t and I don’t want to and furthermore, what is the matter with you that you’d even ask me that shit? I’m your daughter.”
He winced.
I went back to packing.
“I love you too, Lanie,” he said quietly as I zipped up my case.
I yanked it off the bed, stomped to him and stopped.
“Then prove it. Pick one or the other. If it’s Mom, get her in a program. But do something, Dad, because this is going to end in tragedy one way or another. You’ve had a good run but you lost one daughter to this, and you’re losing another right now. Two tragedies. Don’t court more.”
With that, I shoved by him, hauling my case with me. I struggled down the stairs (it did weigh half a ton) grabbed my purse off the side table by the front door and took off through it.
Hop in his shiny, black, twin-cab Dodge Ram was idling outside my parents’ condo.
He leaned across the cab and pushed open the door the minute he saw me, the interior light coming on.
With a heave, I failed to toss my bag in the truck bed. On the second heave, it was caught in Hop’s hands, pulled from mine and tossed over like it weighed as much as a pillow. Without hesitation, I turned to the car door and, with another heave, I hauled my body into the passenger seat.
Seconds later, Hop hauled his in on the driver’s side.
“Babe—”
“Go,” I whispered to the seatbelt I was wrapping around me.
“Lanie—”
I twisted to him and cried, “Go, go, go!”
Eyes glued to me, he put the truck in gear. He only looked to the road when we were moving.
“You gonna talk to me?” he asked.
“No.”
“Didn’t like leavin’ the kids, babe. Gotta take you back there.”
“Okay.”
“You sleep with me. We’ll get up early.”
“Okay.”
“Lanie—”
“Please,” I whispered and got silence.
We were closing in on his condo when he broke it.
“Your eyes are haunted, honey. This is more than your mom bein’ an alcoholic and your family livin’ in denial and that’s already f**kin’ bad enough.”
“Yes.”
More silence while he waited for me to share.
I didn’t.
Hop didn’t push. He parked, came around to my side, hauled my suitcase out of the back and grabbed my hand. His condo was quiet when we got in. I hadn’t been gone long but clearly his kids had crashed after an active day.
And clearly Hop read my mood because he took me and my bag straight to his room and ordered, “Get ready for bed. I’m closin’ down and lockin’ up. Be back.”
I nodded, did as ordered and wandered from the master bathroom into his room while he was pulling off his tee.
I went directly to the bed.
Hop went to the bathroom and met me in bed after he turned off the lights.
He didn’t turn me into his arms.
I burrowed there.
“Thank God you came up here. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God,” I chanted quietly into his chest.
He gathered my hair away and I felt his lips at the top of my head where he whispered, “Lanie, talk to me.”
I shook my head.
“Later?” he asked.
“Later,” I answered, relieved I didn’t have to get into it then. I didn’t have it in me.
“Promise?” he asked.
“I promise,” I answered.
His hands left my hair and he closed his arms around me.
I let his warmth and strength seep into me, feeling the tension and pain dull. It did not go away but I’d take it dulling for now.
“It’s his.”
Hop said this into the dark.
“What?” I asked.
“Knew it the minute I saw the arrogant, stick-up-his-ass f**ker.”
I lifted my head and looked at him in the dark. “What, honey?”
“That monster in you. It might have fed on other shit along the way, got strong and took control, but it was your father who planted the egg that hatched.”
I dropped my face to his chest. This was my way of answering in the affirmative.
He cupped his hand to the back of my head.
“Enough. I’m done. You sleep,” he ordered.
“Okay.”
His hand sifted through my hair.
I turned my cheek to his chest and held onto his warm, strong body.
His fingers kept sifting through my hair.
My body had melted into his, my eyes drooping, I was close to sleep when I whispered, “Please be real.”