Fire Inside (Chaos, #2)(55)

“You play that game, just like your sister, you’ll be cut off,” he warned.

“Newsflash, Dad. Just like Elissa, I wanted a father who was loyal and true to my mother and, if he couldn’t be that, he could at least let her go so she could find happiness in herself or someone else. Money and cars and houses, nothing holds a candle to that, so you can’t buy my love and loyalty and you can’t hurt me by taking things away I never wanted in the first place.”

“You say that now but—”

“Save it,” I bit off, lifting my hand and throwing it out at the same time turning on my boot and stomping to the stairs.

“Lanie, you leave, you do this, your mother will be devastated,” he called to my back. Four steps up, I turned back to him.

“You’re right. She will. And that sucks. But you know what? She’s lived with devastation a really long time. She knows the drill.”

On that, I turned again and stomped up the steps.

I yanked out my suitcase while pressing buttons on my phone.

“Lady,” Hop greeted after one ring.

“I… uh, Hop…” I trailed off mostly because my throat closed and I couldn’t force words out of my mouth.

He heard it, sensed it by Hop Magic or both.

I knew this when he ordered low, “Talk to me.”

I forced down a swallow and tossed my suitcase on the bed. “There was a, um… some unpleasantness… when I got back. Actually I would say it was more like… extreme unpleasantness.”

He didn’t ask.

He didn’t hesitate.

He just clipped out, “Pack. Text your address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

My body stopped dead and my eyes closed tight.

“Lanie? You hear me?” Hop called.

“Yes,” I whispered.

His voice was gentle when he replied, “Pack, baby.”

“Okay.”

“Text me first. I want to be waiting at the door when you’re done.”

“Okay.”

“See you soon.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, lady.”

“Bye, Hop.”

We disconnected and I moved, flying through the room, packing with haste.

I was nearly finished when Dad appeared in my doorway.

“Don’t say another word,” I warned, not looking at him.

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*ckin’ bad enough.”