Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“I’m driving,” Dad said as he all but slammed my trunk closed after I loaded everything in.
I gritted my teeth because it made me mad when he mistreated my things, but ultimately kept my mouth shut when I ignored him and dropped back down into the driver’s seat.
I waited for him to get in, hoping he wouldn’t put up a fight in the parking lot of Lowe’s, and breathed a sigh of relief when he angrily stomped around to the passenger door and got in.
“I hate when you don’t let me drive,” he growled.
“You have a suspended license,” I pointed out. “You’re not driving my car and getting me in trouble. You shouldn’t have even been driving your stepdaughter’s car. You could’ve had the thing impounded.”
Something I would know.
I’d let him borrow my car thinking that his license wasn’t suspended but just expired. Only, I’d found out differently when I had to pay five hundred bucks to get my car out of the impound lot at DPD—Dallas Police Department—when my dad had been pulled over for reckless driving.
Again.
Dad had anger issues. Those anger issues caused him to drive like an asshole.
Eventually, those issues caused him to get tickets one too many times for a judge’s liking, and his license had been revoked.
Now, he still drove, but he was a hell of a lot more careful about getting caught being a jerk.
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Dad grumbled.
I ignored him and drove him to his new place—a fancy number in a fancy part of Frisco.
When we got there, he said, “Want to come in?”
I ignored his question because my attention had been caught by something much better.
My ocean-eyed future husband.
He was angrily arguing with Elizabeth, gesturing toward her with a pointed finger.
Dad got out and headed for the front steps of his house, launching into a slew of expletives as he did.
I stayed in my car and listened.
“What the fuck was that, Webb?” my dad bellowed. “How did you expect me to get home?”
“Webb,” better known as Webber, turned his angry-eyed gaze toward my father and said, “One, you don’t have a license to be driving any car. Two, this is my daughter’s car, that I bought her, so no one but me and her will be driving it. Three, if I catch you driving her car again, I’ll fucking kick your ass, and I don’t care who sees. Do you understand me?”
My gaze went to Elizabeth, who was sneering at my future husband.
“You’re grounded, Eedie,” Elizabeth declared. “Go to your room. No phone or electronics.”
“What?” Eedie cried out. “Why?”
“Because you don’t know the term loyalty,” Elizabeth snapped. “Now go.”
Webber didn’t say anything until Eedie was gone, but he let it rip when she’d cleared the door of the house.
“That’s stupid,” he said. “Punishing her for nothing.”
“She wanted to play stupid games, she can win some stupid prizes,” Elizabeth countered.
“So what, exactly, are you grounding her for?” Webber asked. “Calling me when she had somewhere to be, knowing you wouldn’t get off your fat, lazy ass to take her? Because, oh, your shit bag of a new husband took her car that she could have gotten there with?”
“I am not fat!” Elizabeth snarled.
No, she wasn’t.
But I knew why Webber called her that.
It riled her up, and that was what he wanted.
“Is that the only thing you heard?” Webber rolled his eyes. “I’ll be here tomorrow if she doesn’t show up at my house for my scheduled time.”
“She’s grounded,” Elizabeth said.
Holy fuck. Webber was Eedie’s dad.
How had I not known that?
Probably because you avoid the house like the plague because your dad’s new wife is a total cunt.
“Grounded at your house doesn’t equate to grounded at mine,” Webber said. “She’s mine for the next week. As per court orders. Maybe you can spend that time reevaluating your life and contemplating whether this asshole of a man is worth having me all up in your shit again.”
I didn’t get offended when he called my dad an asshole.
My dad was an asshole.
He had been for my entire life.
What I was offended by was what my dad said to his back when Webber took off down the road on foot.
Dad and Elizabeth started talking, and I waited until Webber was pretty far down the street before I said, “Dad, come get your stuff from the car.”
Somehow, I felt like if Webber heard me call my dad “dad,” he’d get offended. And I wanted Webber to like me.
“Bring ’em up here,” Dad demanded.
Lazy bitch.
I started my car back up and said, “Last chance.”
I wasn’t getting out of the car and getting anywhere near Elizabeth. She was just that bad.
When Dad didn’t budge, I backed out of the driveway and went in the same direction Webber had set off on foot.
When I got to him, I stuck my head out the window and said, “Do you want a ride?”