Jaden
Page 27
“Sheldon—” My dad started toward us, but I caught movement from the corner of my eye. Both Bryce and Corrigan blocked him with their heads slightly down. They were going to let me finish what Beth had started.
“Do you?” I prompted again. She hadn’t said a word since her first outburst. I was waiting. I was hoping for it.
“I think—” she stammered, then stopped to regroup. Then her tone came out firmer, clearer, “I think your father has done nothing except try to help you, but you have only met his actions with a level of ungratefulness that I’ve never witnessed before.”
“You think that?”
“Yes.” Her gaze was firm. “I do. It would be in your best interest to listen to him. He’s only trying to help.”
Then I laughed. It was soft, almost tentative at first, and then grew to a harsher, mocking sound. As I kept going, Beth pressed her lips together.
“Do you think I was acting inappropriately when I was stalked in high school?”
Just a slight flicker of confusion appeared before it was masked. Her chest rose and dropped as she made a sound of annoyance.
I nodded. “Do you think it was appropriate for my father to leave me during that time?”
Another small flicker of question. Did she not know the history? I cocked my head to the side and scratched at my chin. Maybe she didn’t? So I asked, “How was I supposed to act when two girls that I liked and wanted to call friends were killed?”
She wasn’t holding back the confusion now. She glanced to my father, but I blocked her view. I wanted her to deal with me, not him, not whatever he would say to make my questions irrelevant. I knew he would somehow, it was his way and his idea of how to handle this, but I was the one with experience. Not him. Beth needed to get this reality check.
“Beth?”
“Huh?” She looked down to the ground and expelled another sigh.
I frowned. Why all the sighing? She hadn’t been stalked. “Am I bothering you?”
“No—”
I interrupted, with a chilling smile, “Good, because I haven’t even gotten started.”
“Sheldon, this is enough—” My dad tried to push through Bryce and Corrigan. They closed ranks again, forcing him back. When he started to go around, Denton straightened from the wall, a third in the line now. Bryce and Corrigan were facing me, their backs to my father, but Denton was staring right at my dad. He said quietly, “Let your daughter finish.”
“Denton!” My dad bristled.
“I’m sorry, Neil, but I think it’s something you both need to hear.”
I felt the change from my dad. He backed up and took another inventory of the situation. I considered it from his point of view. Here I was, a daughter that he hadn’t seen in years, but who came across like a bitch. She drank too much and was way too highly sexualized as a kid. That was me. Jaded, but real. Now fast forward where he’s in his own world, with his shiny new girlfriend, and he’s forced to bring in his abandoned daughter. She’s wanted for murder. She’s got an attitude and she won’t sit still and just be thankful for the help he’s providing. Now he’s been put in his place, the movie star had spoken, the one that had been separate from all my bad behaviors growing up.
I got the distinct impression that my father would shut up and start thinking differently. Maybe. I hoped.
“Go ahead,” Bryce prompted me.
I nodded and met Beth’s gaze again. The bite had left me so my tone wasn’t as clipped as earlier. “I’ve been stalked. I’ve been hunted. I’ve had two and now three friends murdered. I almost lost one of my family twice,” I gestured to Corrigan, “and I’ve killed someone too, but it wasn’t the murder I’m being framed for. The cops didn’t help catch Marcus. We did that. They didn’t catch who shoved me into a glass table or who cut my brakes. Grace confessed to the first, and we finally got a confession for who put Corrigan in the hospital a second time. So, if you’re asking me to be quiet and sit back because it looks bad for my case? I won’t do that.”
“Sheldon,” she murmured.
I lifted a hand, stopping her. I needed to finish, for her and my father. “I won’t sit back and hope things get better. Life doesn’t get better if I do nothing. I’ve learned that the hard way, but it’s my life now. It’s my freedom. My future.” I whipped around, the need for my dad to hear this was urgent in me. I went to him, and Corrigan and Bryce parted for me. I was right in front of him. “If you think I was yelling and cursing in that hotel lobby and that’s all I was doing, you’re an idiot. I was saying ‘fuck you’ to Grace’s murderer. I wanted him to know that I’m not scared and I’m not quaking in my boots. I’m ready to fight and if he won’t come to me, I’m more than ready to go hunt him down instead.” I stopped, my chest was heaving.
Neil held my gaze, studying me intently, and then he let out a soft breath. His head hung down, and he said, “I’m sorry, Sheldon.”
I closed my eyes. Those words hit me like a blast of cold air. I never knew I needed to hear them, but as soon as he uttered those words, a hole inside my chest shrunk a tiny bit. I felt raw. I was dying of thirst, and I had been starving for that message from him for so long. I blinked and stumbled back a step. Someone caught my arm and held me upright.
I had no idea I’d been yearning for those words.
Then I stopped myself, stopped any crumbling I might’ve done. I wasn’t Daddy’s little girl. I never had been, and those two words weren’t about to bring that change for me. My fairytale was the neglected princess who fought for her own survival.
I’d keep surviving. I’d keep fighting. I never needed my dad before, and I sure as hell didn’t need him now.
I turned away and left.
As I passed the hallway leading to the front door, I heard a quiet voice. “Sheldon?”
My feet stopped before I registered a new presence, and I turned, stricken, horrified, and for some reason, glad at the same time.
“Mena?” That couldn’t be right. I blinked, rubbed at my eyes, but it was her.
She held a hand up in a small wave. “Hey . . .” Her tiny smile turned timid and she tucked her hand back to her side, slipping inside a sweatshirt she was wearing. The jet-black hair was gone. She had dyed it blond, but it looked natural. She was still petite. She’d been wearing a tank top, trendy miniskirt, and black boots the first time I met her. Dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers, she barely looked like the same person. “I’m guessing my brother didn’t tell you I was coming?”
“Do you?” I prompted again. She hadn’t said a word since her first outburst. I was waiting. I was hoping for it.
“I think—” she stammered, then stopped to regroup. Then her tone came out firmer, clearer, “I think your father has done nothing except try to help you, but you have only met his actions with a level of ungratefulness that I’ve never witnessed before.”
“You think that?”
“Yes.” Her gaze was firm. “I do. It would be in your best interest to listen to him. He’s only trying to help.”
Then I laughed. It was soft, almost tentative at first, and then grew to a harsher, mocking sound. As I kept going, Beth pressed her lips together.
“Do you think I was acting inappropriately when I was stalked in high school?”
Just a slight flicker of confusion appeared before it was masked. Her chest rose and dropped as she made a sound of annoyance.
I nodded. “Do you think it was appropriate for my father to leave me during that time?”
Another small flicker of question. Did she not know the history? I cocked my head to the side and scratched at my chin. Maybe she didn’t? So I asked, “How was I supposed to act when two girls that I liked and wanted to call friends were killed?”
She wasn’t holding back the confusion now. She glanced to my father, but I blocked her view. I wanted her to deal with me, not him, not whatever he would say to make my questions irrelevant. I knew he would somehow, it was his way and his idea of how to handle this, but I was the one with experience. Not him. Beth needed to get this reality check.
“Beth?”
“Huh?” She looked down to the ground and expelled another sigh.
I frowned. Why all the sighing? She hadn’t been stalked. “Am I bothering you?”
“No—”
I interrupted, with a chilling smile, “Good, because I haven’t even gotten started.”
“Sheldon, this is enough—” My dad tried to push through Bryce and Corrigan. They closed ranks again, forcing him back. When he started to go around, Denton straightened from the wall, a third in the line now. Bryce and Corrigan were facing me, their backs to my father, but Denton was staring right at my dad. He said quietly, “Let your daughter finish.”
“Denton!” My dad bristled.
“I’m sorry, Neil, but I think it’s something you both need to hear.”
I felt the change from my dad. He backed up and took another inventory of the situation. I considered it from his point of view. Here I was, a daughter that he hadn’t seen in years, but who came across like a bitch. She drank too much and was way too highly sexualized as a kid. That was me. Jaded, but real. Now fast forward where he’s in his own world, with his shiny new girlfriend, and he’s forced to bring in his abandoned daughter. She’s wanted for murder. She’s got an attitude and she won’t sit still and just be thankful for the help he’s providing. Now he’s been put in his place, the movie star had spoken, the one that had been separate from all my bad behaviors growing up.
I got the distinct impression that my father would shut up and start thinking differently. Maybe. I hoped.
“Go ahead,” Bryce prompted me.
I nodded and met Beth’s gaze again. The bite had left me so my tone wasn’t as clipped as earlier. “I’ve been stalked. I’ve been hunted. I’ve had two and now three friends murdered. I almost lost one of my family twice,” I gestured to Corrigan, “and I’ve killed someone too, but it wasn’t the murder I’m being framed for. The cops didn’t help catch Marcus. We did that. They didn’t catch who shoved me into a glass table or who cut my brakes. Grace confessed to the first, and we finally got a confession for who put Corrigan in the hospital a second time. So, if you’re asking me to be quiet and sit back because it looks bad for my case? I won’t do that.”
“Sheldon,” she murmured.
I lifted a hand, stopping her. I needed to finish, for her and my father. “I won’t sit back and hope things get better. Life doesn’t get better if I do nothing. I’ve learned that the hard way, but it’s my life now. It’s my freedom. My future.” I whipped around, the need for my dad to hear this was urgent in me. I went to him, and Corrigan and Bryce parted for me. I was right in front of him. “If you think I was yelling and cursing in that hotel lobby and that’s all I was doing, you’re an idiot. I was saying ‘fuck you’ to Grace’s murderer. I wanted him to know that I’m not scared and I’m not quaking in my boots. I’m ready to fight and if he won’t come to me, I’m more than ready to go hunt him down instead.” I stopped, my chest was heaving.
Neil held my gaze, studying me intently, and then he let out a soft breath. His head hung down, and he said, “I’m sorry, Sheldon.”
I closed my eyes. Those words hit me like a blast of cold air. I never knew I needed to hear them, but as soon as he uttered those words, a hole inside my chest shrunk a tiny bit. I felt raw. I was dying of thirst, and I had been starving for that message from him for so long. I blinked and stumbled back a step. Someone caught my arm and held me upright.
I had no idea I’d been yearning for those words.
Then I stopped myself, stopped any crumbling I might’ve done. I wasn’t Daddy’s little girl. I never had been, and those two words weren’t about to bring that change for me. My fairytale was the neglected princess who fought for her own survival.
I’d keep surviving. I’d keep fighting. I never needed my dad before, and I sure as hell didn’t need him now.
I turned away and left.
As I passed the hallway leading to the front door, I heard a quiet voice. “Sheldon?”
My feet stopped before I registered a new presence, and I turned, stricken, horrified, and for some reason, glad at the same time.
“Mena?” That couldn’t be right. I blinked, rubbed at my eyes, but it was her.
She held a hand up in a small wave. “Hey . . .” Her tiny smile turned timid and she tucked her hand back to her side, slipping inside a sweatshirt she was wearing. The jet-black hair was gone. She had dyed it blond, but it looked natural. She was still petite. She’d been wearing a tank top, trendy miniskirt, and black boots the first time I met her. Dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers, she barely looked like the same person. “I’m guessing my brother didn’t tell you I was coming?”
