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Chapter Twenty
CASSIE
“Bellow,I’m leaving you in charge of warning me if Dad comes home. Do you understand?” I crouch to the ground and stare Bellow in the eyes. Those sugary brown irises peer up at me. He yelps and wags his tail. “Good enough.”
I squeeze the water bottle—my excuse for going to see Dalton—and stand to my full height. I zero my sights on the outbuilding where Dalton’s been ever since his run. We haven’t had a chance to talk since their return late last night. I still haven’t learned what caused the fight, but I plan on resolving that now. His last text said he’d never leave me, which he hasn’t technically done, but he isn’t quite here with me either. Our conversation feels unresolved.
It’s not as if I could’ve sent any more texts demanding him to talk. I already have to come up with an excuse for the small exchange. Dad doesn’t realize I know he checks my call log. One day, I walked up behind Dad when he had the app open on his phone. The screen revealed phone numbers along with a timestamp. Talk about an invasion of privacy. I wanted to confront him, but he would’ve taken my phone away. Rule number two-hundred sixty-six, neverevertalk back to elders. There isn’t any way I could explain a text sent late in the night to one of his baseball players. I took the risk yesterday after supper. I should purchase my own cell phone plan, but there’s this tiny problem of paying for it. Dad refuses to let me get a part-time job. Money equals freedom. One more school year, and I’ll make enough money to leave.
It can’t come soon enough.
I push open the side door, and once I round the corner, it’s like I stepped into an episode ofOverhaulin’. The car hood is propped open. Various car parts clutter the countertops and floor in a chaotic, orderly fashion. The only thing missing is the mechanic. A hint of a smile creeps across my lips. He must’ve dived right into this project.
“You know I can’t do that.” A frustrated sigh follows.
The sharp bite in Dalton’s voice pulls me forward. I lay the bottled water on the counter and step around the car. I find him behind the trunk near the far wall. His backside faces me. He holds a phone to one ear while his thumb spins his ring on the other hand. The ring spinning is his tell for when he’s nervous or frustrated.
I soak in every detail. His rigid stance. Those taut biceps the sleeveless tee showcases so well. It is wrong to check him out while he’s frustrated, but I can’t help myself. Those ripped jeans he loves to wear fit his backside nicely. And even though I know he’s irritated, I can’t help but think dirty thoughts. I would follow this man to hell and back if it weren’t for the fact, I’d bring him down with me.
“I know I wasn’t there the past two times. I’m a little committed.”
Pause.Another huff.
I inch close enough to hear the shouts coming from the phone. The longer Dalton listens, the more agitated he becomes. I have a feeling the other person is his dad.
“We’ve discussed this before. I’m committed to my team.” Another long pause. “Steve understands.”
Steve.I rattle that name around my mind a few times. I’m positive he has a brother by that name, which confirms the other person is his dad. A shudder skates across my spine. I can still picture the way his dad smacked him. I feel smothered by my father, but I never doubted his love. I know Dalton must question that all the time. His mother abandoned him, and his father mistreated him. Has anyone ever shown him affection? Has anyone ever stuck up for him and fought his battles?
“Do me a favor, Dad. Get some help.” The yelling grows louder. Dalton looks up to the rafters and slams his fist against the wall. I shift, trying desperately not to go to him, but it’s hard. My heart breaks. It’s no wonder he’s been so broody with shouldering this burden along with everything else. If his dad is giving him problems, this could be the reason he was so quick-tempered.
I take another step forward, this time not as quiet. His body whips around. Those dark eyes full of anger soften a moment before growing cold. I bite back my gasp from the bruise encasing his left eye. So it is true. He really did get into a fistfight. Disappointment flutters my stomach. I can’t make Dad see Dalton’s potential if he isn’t willing to help himself.No, don’t jump to that conclusion. That is everyone else’s assumption—not yours.I believe there is an underlying reason for his quick temper, and I have every intention of finding it.
“I’ll be back at the end of August.” Dalton ends the call and stares at me. “How long have you been out here?”
“Long enough to overhear your dad yelling.”
He lets out a resonated sigh. He mutters in a barely recognizable voice, “Sorry about that.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You can’t control your father.”
He looks away. I step to within a few inches and lean so he faces me. “I’m serious. Is it his drinking? Has it gotten worse?”Is he still abusing you?
That’s the real question I want to ask. He may not be present to strike him physically, but abuse comes in multiple ways. I don’t dare ask. He won’t be confessing anything tonight with that invisible shield covering his eyes.
“Is he the reason you’re struggling?”
“I’m not struggling.” His hands clench as I watch his jaw set with determination. Or maybe it’s stubbornness. Either way, I struck a chord.
“You have a black eye that says otherwise.” I’m a non-confrontational person by nature. I never stick up for myself, except when I’m around Dalton. For some reason, he brings it out in me. I feel as if I can say what is on my mind.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend to get back to?”
Did I mention that shield he has built is made of ice? I shiver from the coldness in his stare.
“I told you I broke up with him.”
“Funny, because on the way home, your dad told me all about the date you had last night. He made sure I knew just how much in love you two are.”
