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The words hurt, but the guilt they cause hurt more because they’re true. I hate that I’ve kept her at a distance, but unlike Ashleigh, she doesn’t understand. I didn’t have a choice but to shut her out because what was I supposed to do? Tell her oh, I’m sorry you’re struggling with your parents, but I don’t want to hear it because your dad broke my heart when he stuck his dick in your slut mom.
“I’m here now, Case.” I don’t apologize because apologies are empty without actions.
She looks doubtful, so I smile in encouragement. “My mom…” she sighs while I pat myself on the back for not muttering skank. “She’s not…” Her hands fly up in exasperation, then drag down her face, looking so much like a female Liam in that moment it hurts. “What’s wrong with my mom, Lily? She treats me like I’m a trophy half the time. Some plaything to parade around. Or she’s telling me everything that’s wrong with me. My hair is too limp, my legs too skinny, my smile too awkward, my stomach too pudgy.” She pauses, chewing her cheek. “Don’t tell my dad I just said that, please.”
I may have award-winning acting skills, but it takes concentrated effort not to let the panic gnawing at my gut show. I lift my mug, trying to hide my face, and bring it to my lips. The hot liquid burns going down with the massive gulp I just took, masking the wince as I ask, “Why would you think I’d tell him?”
Her shoulders lift, and she looks at the counter. The anxiety churns harder as I wait for her response. “You see him a lot now since you’re working together, so I just… I don’t want you to tell him. I know how protective you can get. But Daddy has dealt with too much from my mom. He shouldn’t be bothered with that, too. He’d only blame himself somehow. But she’s put him through hell for as long as I can remember. The way she’s treated both of us is wrong, but I’m stuck with her. He doesn’t have to be.”
I run my finger over the rim of my cup, feigning nonchalance. “I mean, he kind of does, right? They have another baby together.”
I lift my lashes and am met with more anger from Casey than I think I’ve ever seen. Her head shakes vehemently. “Just another way she used me. I’m the one who called Dad and told him. I berated him as if he were a child, not a grown man.” She stops, her brows so low they almost make a perfect V between her eyes as she stabs her cereal. “While you were in California, she stayed here a few days in the guestroom.” I make a mental note to burn the mattress, sheets, and… fuck it, I’ll get all new shit. “I overheard her talking to one of her friends. She knew the baby wasn’t Dad’s, but she also knew Maxwell would kick her out once he found out, and my dad would…”
“He would step up,” I finish for her.
She nods, then pauses with her head tilting to the side in contemplation. “It was definitely not about money. She didn’t need child support either. That was just her way of forcing Dad on the road. She needed someone to be the parent like he was with me. She kept Dad away and manipulated Maxwell somehow once they split because she used me as leverage. It drove her insane when he went to work with Sons of Sin because she couldn’t control it anymore. But Daddy would never make enough to fund her lifestyle. Supposedly, she caught Maxwell cheating first so that entitled her to alimony, too, according to their prenup. With Maxwell’s money and Daddy raising the baby, she thought she’d be set. Although, I don’t understand how she thought that was ever going to work. Dad didn’t have his new position, so as far as she knew, he would still be gone more than home.”
But one thing I’ve learned in the last few minutes that I’ve tried hard not to focus on… the baby isn’t his. But they still had sex. That’s the only reason he would’ve believed her. The possibility was there.
I will always love her.
The words will be seared into my brain forever.
“I don’t know, Casey. I wish I could help.” My heart cracks when a tear slides down her cheek.
“If I’d never been born, my dad wouldn’t have…”
“Don’t finish that sentence, Casey Parsons.” My words and tone are fierce and definitive even as moisture fills my own eyes. I reach over, swiping a thumb across her cheek, wiping away the tears. “If I’m not sure about anything else, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt your dad loves you.”
“But he didn’t deserve what she put him through. If it weren’t for me, he could’ve moved on. Avoided her toxicity.”
“Case, he’d gladly take a million years with her as long as he had you.” When she looks at me, a strange look passes over her face, and I get the feeling I’ve said too much. I want her to believe me. Not question why I would be so certain. “It’s obvious he worships you, Case. How many dads do you know that keep a standing weekly date with their daughters?”
She brushes her tears away with a small chuckle and drags her hand through her long blond hair. “You’re right,” she sighs. “Okay. Enough about that. You are getting married next weekend!” She squeals and claps while nausea roils my belly. I think I’d rather talk about her mom than my pending nuptials, fake as they may be.
My phone starts ringing, and the nausea grows when I Hate Everything About You plays and Liam’s name flashes across the screen with asshole in parentheses. I can’t catch a break.
I lift a finger to Casey, pretending not to see her questioning look, and accept the call. I don’t even get to say hello before his voice rolls over my skin. “Pack a bag for a few days. I’ll be there in twenty to pick you up.”
My brows dip, my mind struggling to catch up. I push myself off the stool and turn toward the kitchen sink, not wanting Casey to see my expression as I talk to her dad. “What?” I ask when I really want to say fuck you.
“We’re flying to Nashville tonight. I have a singer to check out for Maddox and a couple of bands lined up for you. I also got you on the ticket for tomorrow night at a bar.”
“Nashville? I thought you had my band whatever worked out? What in the world kind of band could you find for me in Nashville? Or singer for Maddox, for that matter? Isn’t it all country music?”
“There’s more to Nashville than country music, Tiger Lily. And this is a touring band, not recording, though if it goes well, they could become both.”
“Touring?”
“Am I speaking Mandarin, Lily? Touring—you know, that thing music artists do to generate revenue. It’s part of your contract. We’ll talk more later. See you in fifteen.”
“You said twenty.” But he’s already ended the call.
The churning in my stomach is now in my chest. I wish I’d stuck with the wedding talk.
I can’t spend a few days away with him.
No. Absolutely not.
