“Everything all right, Hilary?” I heard Logan ask from not far behind us.
Caleb stared past me at Logan, then shook his head and turned back to his original mission, rushing up Cassandra’s steps. The last thing she needed was to see him like that, which was why I ran full speed up to her porch until I was standing right beside him.
The door creaked open and my jaw dropped.
“Oh my God!” I yelped, my hand flying to my mouth. “Are you all right? God, I…I am so sorry. Please, can I just come in? I haven’t been able to sleep at all since…” I stopped short, then rushed out the rest. “Caleb told me what happened to you last night.”
It felt like a lie. But Caleb had woken me up to tell me—he just hadn’t filled in the blanks. Still, the last thing Cassandra needed was to worry about me and Mr. Dickhead’s bullshit.
She held the door open, moving aside for me to enter before stepping back in the way to block Caleb from following.
“I’ll talk to you later,” she told him calmly.
“Cassandra, I truly am sorry,” Caleb said softly, his voice riddled with guilt. “I should have looked into his background. I had no clue the guy was dangerous, I swear.”
There he was: the kind, gentle man I’d fallen for. So what was going on in that head of his to make him treat me like shit?
“I know. We’ll talk later, I promise.” She shut the door slowly, looking instantly regretful.
“I can’t freaking believe this. I had no idea,” I said, my hands working animatedly. “If Caleb had told me the guy had been to prison, I never would have tried setting you up with him. You know I want to see you start dating, but God, not with a guy like that.”
She slipped past me and plopped back down on the couch, pulling the blanket over her lap, grabbing a bowl of cereal, and getting comfortable.
“Come on, say something,” I pleaded, sitting across from her in the armchair. She seemed so calm, casually eating her cereal, one slow bite at a time. Shit, she was really pissed at me. I’d never seen her like that before. Her mouth was swollen, the top lip busted open.
“Your lip looks…” She shot me a devastated frown that broke my heart. “Bad.” I offered a sympathetic smile. “Do you want me to get you something for it? I can run to the pharmacy.”
Cassandra took another large bite of cereal as I sat squirming in front of her, waiting for her to finish the damn bowl and acknowledge me. I didn’t blame her. It was my fault. I slumped back against the chair. I just wanted her to know I meant well.
“Listen, you know I love you. You’re my best friend!” My voice squeaked as it grew louder. “I would never set you up on a date if I thought the guy would hurt you. You have to believe me!” Unshed tears stung my eyes.
She swallowed her last bite of Froot Loops then leaned forward to set the empty bowl on the table in front of us. When she leaned back, she was wearing the tiniest yet smuggest grin I’d ever seen.
“I know,” she said sincerely, tilting her head slightly to one side. “I just wanted to see how much groveling I could get out of you.”
“You’re horrible!” I threw one of the small pillows at her. “You know that, right!?”
She laughed as she caught it, wincing as she patted her lip lightly. It wasn’t the time to make the girl laugh. She placed the pillow behind her back and settled further into the sofa as I got comfortable myself.
“I deserve it.” I sighed. “I was so worried.” I stopped a moment, debating whether I should tell her about my chat with Logan. I decided against it, mainly because I knew all the questions that would follow if she thought Caleb hadn’t told me everything himself.
“Caleb came over at midnight, banging on my door to tell me what happened. He feels horrible. He thinks it’s all his fault, and I—”
“It is his fault!” she interrupted loudly, furrowing her brows.
“He never meant for—”
“Stop defending him, Hilary!” she yelled and leapt up, hysterical. “Caleb screwed up, and Logan was attacked because of it!”
I was on my feet as well, suddenly defensive. “Caleb thought the guy just had a run of bad luck in his past. He was trying to help him out by giving him a job.”
“I get that—I do—but that doesn’t mean he should keep the guy’s past hidden from potential dates. What if I would’ve brought Kurt back here, like I was planning?” she asked, raising her brows.
“I know. I feel terrible.” I ran my hand down my hair. “How did Logan get involved last night, by the way?”
I needed a breather on all things Caleb. He wasn’t to blame any more than I was, yet I wished he’d told me about Kurt’s past.
But then again, if we all knew, this town would’ve crucified the guy whether he deserved it or not. The old-timers in Harmony aren’t too fond of ex-cons around their families. Caleb had rolled the dice, hoped for the best, and lost.
“He showed up at the bar. He wanted to protect me—unlike everyone else.”
“That’s not true. Caleb just didn’t know everything. He wanted to see the good in Kurt. Is Logan all right?” I asked, genuinely concerned because I’d seen the blood on his shirt but knew he wouldn’t tell me himself last night. “Caleb said it was a pretty nasty fight. Rumor has it Kurt is still in the hospital.”
“Yeah, Logan sent me a text earlier. And as far as Kurt is concerned, I hope he rots in prison.” She frowned and walked my way, already regretting her words. The girl was too soft for her own good, with the events of the previous night obviously still freaking her out.
“I know this wasn’t your fault. And I also know that Caleb would never put anyone in harm’s way on purpose. I’ll talk to him, all right? Just not today.”
Relieved, I stood, smiling and pulling her in for a long-overdue hug. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”
I wanted desperately to tell her that I’d known Logan would be there—that I’d made sure of it. I was ready to spill the whole plan I’d worked out, but seeing her finally unwind, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She was angry enough, and although I knew she’d understand, it wasn’t the right time.
So instead of focusing on the drama in our lives, Cassandra and I spent the rest of the morning and entire afternoon hanging out like a couple of kids. We buried ourselves under a heaping pile of pillows and sheets, snuggling on the couch and watching reruns of our favorite shows until we both fell asleep shortly after a dinner of frozen pizzas and Cheetos.
I woke just after eight that evening to Felicia storming into her daughter’s house. “What the hell is the matter with you!?” she yelled at Cassandra. “I have been trying to call you all day!”
I sat up, rubbed my groggy eyes, and quickly slipped into my sneakers. I shot Cassandra a sympathetic smile, then hurried to the door. “I should go. I’ll see you at school in the morning.”
Cassandra offered a small smile and nod as I escaped out to my car, thankful we were good, she was safe, and my head was rested. I turned on the engine and plugged my phone into the charger, finding two missed calls and one text from my father.
Dad, 5:14 p.m.: Call me.
I’d do him one better, I decided: I’d stop by for a visit. He was exactly the man I needed to talk to if I wanted to find out what turned normal, good guys into total pricks.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Hey, Dad!” I called out as I shut the front door.
I headed toward the frustrated groan followed by the recliner spring. “Hey, girly, what are you doing here?” He adjusted to sit further upright. “I've been trying to call you all day.”
“Yeah,” I grumbled. “I saw. Sorry. Long, crappy weekend.” I slumped down in the armchair across from him, kicking off my sneakers and tucking my feet under me.
“Heard Cassandra had one too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Wow, word really does travel fast in this town, huh?”
My dad’s eyes sparkled, a smile lightening his features. “One of the perks of small-town living for an o
ld man. Made it a lot easier raising you. Always knew what you were up to.”
Up until I’d started traveling to hide my reckless bullshit, he sure had.
“So, what’s going on? You miss me?” I asked with a playful smile.
I expected a funny retort; my dad was always quick with the one-liners. But instead, he stabbed his fingers through his dark hair, his eyes cast toward the tattered wood floor.
Something was definitely up—he looked almost worried. I leaned forward, straightening my spine. “What? What is it?” I asked, suddenly nervous.
“Well, I'm glad you stopped over, Hilary—”
“‘Hilary’?” I mimicked. He rarely called me by my full first name. “Okay, old man, what’s going on?”
With an almost shameful sigh, he spoke, holding my gaze the entire time without blinking. “I’m selling the house.”
“What!?” My response was instant and irate. “Why? You love this place. It’s our home—my home!”
His head fell to the side. “You want to live here, girly? Move in after I die?”
“I…hadn’t really thought about it.”
He gave a knowing nod. “Well, now’s the time to decide, because the church next door gave me an offer that I’m having a hard time turning down.”
Dumbfounded, I slouched back in the chair. “How much?”
“More than double the market value.”
I gazed around the living room, where the soft blue curtains I’d sewn myself in home economics blew around in the open window. The grandfather clock I used to crawl over and sit in front of for what felt like hours as a toddler needed dusting. The stairs were scuffed and worn, but full of incredible memories. I still had the scar on my arm from when I fell down them when I was four. Cassandra was lucky she never got hurt since we used the stairs as our own private mountainside for laundry baskets. I stared at the third step from the bottom—the one that squeaked when I’d attempt to sneak out.
Tears welled in my eyes. There were too many memories to just walk away from. That house was my rock almost as much as my father was. They were the foundation of what kept me sane: my home sweet home. My heart ached at the thought of saying goodbye to it all.
I wiped a single tear from my cheek. “But why?”
He leaned forward, reaching over to hand me a tissue. “They want to build a gymnasium for the youth program, and they need the extra property to do it.”
Horror filled my veins and shot me to my feet. “Property? As in…tear our house down?”
My dad sat back, his expression bleak. “Yeah. And I know it’s sudden, but they’re doing a lot for the kids around here. I think it’s the right move.”
Is he really agreeing with this? I began pacing the room, unsure whether I should be angry or sad. It was our home, but his house to do what he wanted with. And maybe this would be good for him—get him back out in the community.
Then it hit me. I halted my steps and swung my body back to face him. “Wait, where will you live?”
“With you, of course!”
My expression must’ve been one of pure shock. Hell, I didn’t even have a real place of my own yet. Suddenly, however, he was laughing.
“Kidding. I was thinking about buying a small two-bedroom past the tracks. I could get it cheap and have more than half the profits from this place to live on the rest of my life.” His voice grew serious. “I know it’s hard to say goodbye, but I think it’s best.”
I sat back down, resolved to hear him out even through my sudden nausea. “So when would you have to move?”
“They’d like to start the project in October, before the ground freezes.”
With my hand over my mouth and my eyes closed, I sat quietly. Could this weekend get any worse?
“I love you, Dad, and I’ll support whatever you decide,” I said so calmly I almost believed it myself.
He stared quietly, gauging my honesty until I let him see it. I would support this, if it meant my dad would be comfortable and in a smaller house he could maintain. No more stairs to climb, or furnace to fix every winter.
“When do they need an answer?” I asked numbly.
“Tomorrow.”
“What!?” I gasped. “Tomorrow, seriously? How long have you been in talks with them?”
Weary lines deepened across his brows. “They came to me before summer. Just didn’t see myself doing it until recently. But your mom agrees—”
“You talked to Mom about this before me!?” My anger flared back to life. What was there to even discuss with her? I couldn’t imagine her ever returning home.
“Hilary,” my dad warned. “Your mother and I bought this house together. She deserves to know what’s going on and…” He held my gaze. “She deserves half the money.”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
“You heard me. We bought this place to give you a home, and that’s what we did. Her parents even helped out with the down payment.”
“What in the hell does she even need money in that place for? So she can buy shit to swap for drugs?”
“God damn it, Hilary.” My father stood, and my body shrank back. “She’s in a mental facility, not a prison!”
I’d normally back down and apologize. Maybe it was the last twenty-four hours coming to a shitstorm ending or all the hatred I held for my mother finally brewing to the surface, but whatever caused me to stand up, toe to toe with my father, I knew it was something I’d regret later. Still, I didn’t care right then. With my bottom lip trembling, I told him exactly how I felt.
“My mother is a murderer. She deserves to spend the rest of her life locked up for what she did. Whether that’s in prison or a hospital, I don’t care, as long as she stays the hell out of our lives!”
With that, I stomped past him, a ticking time bomb, my emotions ready to explode—and they did, the moment I reached my old bedroom upstairs.
The bedding was still the same from middle school, when Felicia had surprised me with a new pink-and-blue floral comforter set. The walls were covered with posters, strings of Christmas lights, and photos of friends. When I’d moved out, I’d left all the stuff I thought was too childish to take.
I stretched out on my bed, staring up at the dreamcatcher hanging from my ceiling-fan pull that my dad had given me when I was eight. Was I really going to have to say goodbye to it all? The longer I lay there, the more frustration I released until there was nothing but sorrow remaining.
It felt like hours had passed before I heard the knock on my bedroom door. There was no point in hiding my tears, so I sat up and scooted over for my dad to sit beside me on the mattress.
“I know this is sudden and I should’ve talked to you earlier, but I didn’t want to burden you with it until I knew my final answer.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I dropped my head against him. “You’re the only thing I love in this world, girly. Breaks an old man’s heart to think you’re mad at me, or disappointed.”
I sniffled, wiping my eyes and peering up, my head still resting against his chest. “I love you, Dad, it’s just…” I sighed. “My life is so upside down right now and this house—you—it’s the only normal I have to hold on to.”
He replied in a low, tormented tone, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “You’re stuck with me. Until the day I leave this earth, I’ll be here for you. I’m not going anywhere, and this house…” He gazed around the room. “Sure, we have a lot of good memories, but I have a lot of…other ones, too. Your mother changed after we moved in here.”
I sat up slowly, enthralled. My dad rarely spoke of their past together.
He held up his hands. “I’m not saying the house is to blame, but it…haunts me at times.”
“Haunts you?” My dad didn’t believe in ghosts.
“Not like that,” he said, reading my mind. “She’s everywhere here. I still see her in this room, back when it was your nursery, rocking you in the old chair we kept in that corner.” He pointed to where my dresser now stood
.
“And your changing table was there.” He motioned to the wall that now held my stereo and Romeo and Juliet poster. “She sang to you once—the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. You were giggling, so happy. It was one of the only times I really saw her smile back then.
“I was horrible at changing diapers.” He released a strained chuckle. “You’d never sit still. All you did was scream.”
I laughed, my tears tumbling out faster.
“At least until your mom entered the room. Then…” He bowed his head, eyes closed and voice lowered. “You’d just stare at her, your big brown eyes full of so much love for a woman who didn’t know how to return it.”
He shook his head and cleared his throat, the tough guy returning. “I thought she’d snap out of whatever was bringing her down and I still believe she tried to, but more than anything, I know she cared for you and still does.”
“Daddy…” I wiped my running nose, no longer bothering with the rampant tears and instead hugging him tightly.
He stroked my hair, his voice broken. “She was sick, Hil, and I couldn’t help her. I didn’t know how to, and I didn’t understand what was happening to my wife—to the family I wanted desperately to hold on to. I lost her, but I can’t lose you too. If you don’t want me to sell the house, I won’t. Whatever you want, I’ll accept.”
I’d never felt more like a spoiled child. I wiped my nose on the back of my hand and dried my eyes, taking one deep breath after another until my emotions were off display.
“Dad, you’ve spent the last twenty years putting your life on hold and taking care of her. I won’t ask you to do the same for me. I’m just a big ol’ baby, and selfish. I want to keep everything the same, but I know this will be good for you.
“And hey, I can decorate your new place—give you a modern abode with some fun wallpaper and maybe even a disco ball.” I cocked a brow, chuckling.
My father’s smile was sincere, but barely reached his eyes.
I continued, “I want you to sell the house, Dad. Sure, I’ll cry like a little baby the day you move out and again the day they tear it down, but this is the right move for you. I want you to be happy more than anything. You took care of me as a single father and I know that wasn’t easy, especially with all my teenage angst and crap. You deserve this chance to move forward.”
Inferno (A Harmony Love Story) Page 20
