Daddy's Possessive Friend (Once Upon a Daddy Book 12)

by Kelli Callahan

  I’m certainly in the mood to part with what little money I have in exchange for sedation and a blank slate.

  It may be the only way that I ever get to lay my head on a pillow and sleep again.

  I down two little bottles of vodka like they’re water before pouring a third into a glass. The alcohol doesn’t make me feel better, but it does bring an artificial calmness and slow my pulse, which has been beating like crazy since I left Bram’s office.

  That allows to cry. So many tears. So many harsh realities bouncing around in my head—harsh realities I didn’t want to face when I climbed into Bram’s bed for the very first time.

  Our relationship was built on a foundation of lies that we allowed ourselves to believe. I was a stupid girl living out a fantasy.

  It’s not a fantasy anymore. It’s a nightmare.

  The worst part is that even with a little alcohol in my system, I can’t see a road that leads me back to Bram. I don’t know if he will even want to have anything to do with me. He hasn’t called once since everything went to hell.

  I was scared to believe it could be anything more than just one night—one secret that never saw the light of day. Then it was. It blossomed into something beautiful in front of my eyes, and I didn’t expect it to simply decay.

  But it has. It’s turned bitter in my mouth and moldy on the vine.

  I consider calling Bram, and after the drink in my hand is gone, I finally work up the courage to dial his number. It goes to voicemail. At least I can say I tried. I gave it one more try, and he’s the one who didn’t answer my call.

  Two seconds after I listen to his voicemail, my phone buzzes in my hand. A rush sweeps through me. I hit the button to answer the call out of instinct, and then I realize Bram isn’t the one calling. It’s my mother…

  “Kiana! Kiana Brooks, you better not hang up that phone!” Her voice is filled with anger. I remember that version of my mother so vividly I can see her red-faced scowl through the telephone.

  “Hey, Mom…” I lift the phone to my ear and mutter.

  I should have took a second to look at my phone, but I was overwhelmed by the possibility of hearing Bram’s voice. Now I have to hear one of the two that I really can’t deal with right now.

  “Where are you at? I’m coming to get you!” A raspy sigh echoes, and I can tell she’s been crying. Really? Crying for me? That’s a first.

  “Mom, I’m fine.” I close my eyes for a moment.

  “Your father told me what that bastard did to you!” she says with a trembling tone. “I’m going to kill him myself if your father doesn’t get to him first!”

  “You don’t...” I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand perfectly, young lady!” Her response comes back at me like a snap. “To think, we welcomed him into our home like a member of the family!”

  I force myself not to respond as she launches into a tirade. I don’t want to have this conversation with my mother. I don’t want to listen to her run Bram down like he’s pond scum she wants to scrape off her favorite pair of wading boots.

  But I want to defend Bram. I want to tell her that what we had was beautiful—that it was amazing—it was everything I had fantasized about since I was a girl too young to have those thoughts. I just don’t know how to put it into words. She wouldn’t listen to me anyway.

  “Mom, I think I just need to go to bed early tonight. I don’t feel well…” I pull a line out of my arsenal, one that I’ve used so many times to get out of a conversation with her that I didn’t want to have.

  “You’re not feeling well? Oh my god, Kiana. Please don’t tell me that bastard got you pregnant!” Her response is different than usual, but I set myself up for that one.

  “No…” I sigh. I don’t think he did, at least. Would I even know at this point?

  “Tell me where you are. If you’re not feeling well, then you need to sleep in your own bed—here.” Her tone is quite insistent. “I already talked to your landlord and had him open your door, so don’t tell me that you’re at your apartment!”

  I need to add a stern conversation with my landlord to my list of things to do, but that will be so close to the bottom I may never get to it.

  “I’m at the Marigold Hotel.” I close my eyes again. “You can come get me if you want.”

  I end the call before she can say anything else. I don’t want to go home, but I don’t have the energy to keep going round-and-round with my mother. I have to face my parents eventually. Doing it while the wound is still fresh might help it heal faster.

  Maybe I’m just so overcome with grief and on the edge of being completely distraught that there is a little girl deep down inside me that does need her mother—even if that means looking into the face of disappointment—even if it means I have to deal with my father as well.

  I swore I’d never need them again. I’m was so damn comfortable on my own two feet.

  Now I don’t even have the willpower to stand…

  My mother arrives at the Marigold Hotel like a mother hen ready to peck the eyes out of anyone who stands between her and her daughter. I’ve never seen this side of her. I expect her to launch into a tirade and tell me how much of a disappointment I am, but all she does is hug me.

  Where has this version of her been all my life?

  She escorts me to the car and doesn’t say much on the ride home. She comments on the weather, pats my hand a few times, and I feel like I’ve regressed so far I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me from my own reflection in the window.

  I was supposed to be strong. Brave. I literally walked into a den of thieves with my head held high to save my brother. Then I stepped out on a stage and took my clothes off for strangers to pay a debt that wasn’t mine.

  That doesn’t even seem real right now.

  The car comes to a stop in the driveway I used to play in when I was a little girl, and I feel like her again when I step out of the car. My father is on the porch with a stern expression on his face, and it doesn’t look like the rage has left his eyes.

  Once again, I expect pure carnage as I’m told how much of a disappointment I am, but instead of that, I get another hug. I can’t remember the last time he hugged me.

  “Dad…” I break down in his arms. Not because of Bram. Not because of the wound in my heart.

  Where has this version of him been all my life? Have my parents been replaced by aliens? It feels like the Twilight Zone. It’s a hell of a way to sober up quickly.

  My parents bring me inside and sit me down at the dinner table. My mom brings a plate of food while my father rights next to me and holds my hand. I’m really not hungry, but I pick at my food because it’s easier than telling them I don’t want to eat.

  It takes a little time before my emotions catch up with what is going on around me, then every bite I’ve managed to get down sours in my stomach.

  The look on their faces. The way they’re treating me. They think I’m a victim—they think Bram has done awful things to me. They still see me as a little girl instead of a woman.

  That’s the mentality I ran from. They never stopped treating me like a child who disappointed them at every turn. They’re treating me the exact same way, except they have someone else to put the blame on—Bram is the one shouldering all of their disappointment and scorn on.

  He doesn’t deserve that. They have no idea what he actually did.

  “I need to go lie down.” I put down my fork and stand from the dinner table.

  “If you need anything, we’re here for you.” My father squeezes my hand before I pull it away.

  “Thank you…” I mutter a response.

  I feel worse than I did at the hotel. I’m existing in the middle of a lie. If my parents knew the truth, my mother would’ve probably left me in that hotel room to rot. I climbed into Bram’s bed. He didn’t take advantage of me. He allowed me to explore fantasies, dig into the deepest part of my mind, and he lit
erally saved me.

  I wasn’t a toy he was using for his amusement.

  Once I’m in bed, I stare at my phone. I haven’t gotten a single call since my mother came to get me. Am I not even worth a text message?

  Then I feel my emotions shift to actual concern.

  What if my father really hurt him? What if he’s in the hospital somewhere, and I’m the one who is abandoning him?

  “I brought you some tea. It should help you get some rest.” My mother walks into my room unexpectedly. “Unless you plan to stare at your phone all night.”

  “No…” I put it down and take the tea.

  I don’t deserve the kindness I’m being shown. If they would have just looked at me like I was a disappointment or abandoned me, I would’ve gotten the reaction I expected. This feels strange. It’s not right. I should’ve run to Bram instead of running away from him. I should’ve shielded him from my father.

  “Drink, sweetheart.” My mother sits beside me and taps the cup of tea.

  I take a few sips of tea on command, and it does a particularly good job of relaxing me—too good. I’ve had a few of my mom’s relaxing blends before, and they never made me sleepy from the first sip.

  “Is there something in this?” I look down at the cup.

  “You’ll be fine. Go ahead and stretch your legs out.” She moves away from the bed.

  I feel my hand tremble, and my mother takes the teacup before I can drop it. There’s definitely something in it, but I’m getting too hazy to care. I know she has good intentions, but it isn’t how I wanted to relax…

  I wanted to face my own despair instead of the darkness.

  She’s taken that choice out of my hands.

  Chapter Twenty

  Bram

  Watching the repair technician tinker with my phone is frustrating. It’s broken. No amount of tinkering is going to resurrect it.

  “Maybe if we replace the screen…” He fiddles with the front cover.

  “Look, I don’t care if this one can be repaired or not. I told the nice young lady up front—I just want a replacement.” I look down and sigh.

  “It’s our job to try to save you some money if you don’t need to spend it.” He begins to pick the pieces of the broken screen off one by one.

  “And I appreciate that, but this is an emergency situation. I have a number stored in my phone that I need to get—if you can just transfer the data to a new phone, I’ll be the happiest customer you deal with today.” I nod quickly.

  “Okay, fine.” He looks a little defeated and then looks past me. “Maria, can you help Mr. Ward with a new phone?”

  “Of course!” She is all smiles as she approaches. “We have several new devices that have come in recently. Would you like to see them?”

  “No.” I take what is left of my phone from the repair technician’s hands. “I just want one like this.”

  “Absolutely! That one… Well, it’s an older model. We’ve got a couple of upgrade options.” She turns toward a display.

  I don’t want to deal with her spiel, but it doesn’t seem like I have an option. I let her irritate the fuck out of me for several minutes before I choose the newest phone, and she ringing me up. New phone. New contract. Insurance. There are way too many fucking things to deal with when all I want to do is buy a damn phone.

  “Give me the full package.” I put a frustrated smile on my face. “Upsell it all to me—I don’t care.”

  The only thing I care about is Kiana. I have to find out where she is. I have to talk to her. She’s the most important thing in my life right now, and I can’t lose her. I’ll fight Kiana’s father again if I have to—I’ll endure her mother’s wrath—just as long as I get to hold that sweet angel in my arms again.

  I never thought I’d be this obsessive. This fucking possessive. But Kiana has turned me into a man I don’t recognize anymore, and I like it.

  Hell, maybe I love it.

  Maybe it’s what has been missing.

  “Okay, sir, if you take this phone back over to Bob, he should be able to import everything from your old phone.” Maria hands me the bag.

  “Thanks.” I nod as I take it.

  I walk back to Bob, who still seems to be rather offended that I didn’t let him try to repair the old phone, but he gets to work on the transfer immediately. In my head, I’m replaying every worst-case scenario. I don’t want to hear Kiana say goodbye, that this was all a mistake—that her father finding out was a wakeup call.

  Even worse, I don’t want to endure the brunt of her anger and lose her because I come clean the first chance I had. I put her in an awkward, horrifying position when it could have been avoided completely.

  There were so many issues she was still dealing with. She felt abandoned and neglected by her family. Hell, it might not have been physical abuse, but they certainly abused her emotionally for most of her life. I was supposed to be her anchor outside of that world, but I tied the anchor around her neck and tossed her in headfirst.

  It wasn’t intentional, but will Kiana see it that way? In a perfect world, all of the good I did would be enough to forgive one mistake. If it wasn’t so bad…

  “How long is this going to take?” I lean forward, and I can feel the frustration grow as Bob slowly moves the data to my new phone.

  “I’m sorry, sir. It does take a while to transfer the data.” He grimaces.

  I take a walk around the store because I can’t stand in one spot and stare at the bar moving across the screen. It’s infuriating, but it isn’t Bob’s fault. If I keep staring at him while he’s trying to work, I’ll just blow a gasket on him. That isn’t fair.

  There are so many thoughts going through my head. Kiana isn’t the only one I have to make amends with. It will be impossible to make amends with Lawson, but I created an atmosphere of confusion at work. Joanna—the others who saw the exchange—everyone they told. Office gossip and rumors spread like wildfire whether they are true or not. Dan will be so fucking upset that Lawson is gone, considering how much money he brought in for us. He fixed Jack’s account and already had a premier Hollywood celebrity account headed our way. I doubt that deal will close now…

  I fucked up so much by avoiding the truth. Cowardice? Not wanting to see how upset it would make Kiana. Easy excuses, but tiny slivers that can’t undo the horrifying outcome.

  “Okay, Mr. Ward. Your phone is good to go.” Bob offers me the device and smiles.

  “Thank you!” I grab the phone out of his hand and don’t even bother to get the bag or the box it came in.

  I rush straight to my car and dial Kiana’s number.

  Every ring feels like an eternity. Each one worse than the one before it.

  Then I hear voicemail. Fucking voicemail. This is too important to leave on her voicemail.

  I scan my phone and feel my heart sink into my stomach. He transferred my contacts and all of the data, but none of my missed calls, old voicemails, or previous text messages were able to be salvaged.

  I have no way of knowing if Kiana tried to reach out to me.

  “Just pick up the phone. That’s all I ask,” I mutter and start dialing again.

  I’m greeted with her beautiful voice via recording as she invites me to leave a message—yet again. I dial her number a few more times and get the same result. She’s cut off communication. I can’t get her to listen to me, but maybe I can get her to read a text message. It’s the only option I have at this point. I start typing.

  Bram: I know I messed up. I should have told you that your father was working at the company again. I love you, Kiana. Everything we shared… It meant more to me than you’ll ever realize. I hope it meant the same to you. Please take my call.

  I’ve never been good at being patient. Now I’m tossed into a situation where patience is the only option I have.

  I might as well go home and drink.

  It’s too late to fix the situation at the office since everyone has already left for the day. There’s nothing I
can do to force Kiana to pick up her phone. I don’t even know where the fuck she is. This is my penance, but I’m going to pray it doesn’t last long. I probably deserve to suffer. I just can’t handle it. Not until I know where things stand between us.

  If it’s goodbye, then I need to hear those words from her. Silence is worse than those bitter fucking words rolling off her lips.

  The drive to my house is miserable. Every second of it sucks. A drink doesn’t make me feel any better. It amplifies the anguish. I try Kiana a couple of more times and get the same result as before. The agonizing ring of a man ignored, followed by the sweetest voice that has ever spoke on a voicemail.

  Maybe it would be better if I deserved it.

  I know I don’t. That’s the worst part of all.

  One drink turns into two. Two drinks turn into three. There isn’t much left for me to do except getting blackout drunk. Been a while since I tied one on that tight. I guess the punishment tomorrow morning will be as well-deserved as the sickness that the buzz is bringing. I don’t want to feel good. My body refuses to accept it.

  I dial Kiana’s number one more time, just to hear her recorded voice if nothing else.

  One ring.

  Two.

  It always drops to voicemail after the third.

  But that ring doesn’t echo in my ear. Instead, she picks up.

  “Kiana? Thank you for answering!” I lean forward, full attention, and the buzz in my head is sapped away by the glimmer of hope.

  “Stop calling my fucking daughter, you son of a bitch!” It isn’t Kiana’s voice. It’s Lawson.

  How does Lawson have her phone?

  “Lawson, look. I know…” I try to find words that could possibly make sense. “I really care about Kiana.”

  “Oh, I know what you care about, buddy.” His voice is seething. “You couldn’t find enough whores to fuck? You had to go after my daughter?”

  “It’s not like that.” I feel a prickly sensation on the back of my neck, but I try to steady my nerves.