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Sorry it happened like this, but we both knew this is how it would end. I’ll work on things with your dad, and I pray to God you do, too. You need each other. I’m heading off, starting over where I can’t fuck things up with you and Tommy. Guess this Raider had a weakness, after all.
Thank you for making this shitstorm a little less shitty.
-Ash
That scream was back, ripping out of my throat with incredible pain that didn’t even match the agony in my chest.
The asshole!
God, my hands were shaking again.
I pulled my phone out, punching in his number now that I was done with his idiotic scavenger hunt.
It rang and rang with no answer.
So, he left me a letter on sticky notes, and a car to pay me off like I was a fucking whore. Then, the asshole disappears without a trace.
If only it was that simple.
He wouldn’t do that unless he honestly, truly believed that this was the best option for me. Ashton was a fighter, and he wouldn’t give up what he had here unless he—
The pain in my chest moved from self-pity to agony for him. Did he really think that I could just give him up? That I would pick Dad’s desires over my own?
Did he not really want me?
Did he decide I’m a mistake?
I didn’t want to even think about it.
Shoving the notes back into the envelope, my anger flared hotter than my pain, which took over my Goddamn brain. Dragging my phone back out of my pocket, I pressed my thumb down on his name again and popped the speaker button next before waiting.
Still no answer.
Finally, as the red hot anger filtered back out of me like a leaking balloon, I wrote in a text, three little words that destroyed me.
Me: I hate you.
Two Years Later
Chapter 22
Freya
Signing off my computer, I checked my lipstick in the little compact from my purse.
Damn, that longwear lipstick was awesome.
Nudging a little color from the corner of my lips, I snapped the compact closed again and shoved it back into my bag before leaving my little cubicle.
It wasn’t glamorous, my job. Working accounting wasn’t glamorous by any stretch of the imagination, no matter where you work. I’d had my own office at Dad’s dealership, but I’d always been stunted there because he never saw me as a woman. Here, at my job, I was my own person, and everything I did, I earned by my own efforts, not because my daddy wanted to help me out.
My phone rang as I made it to the parking lot, so I shuffled around my purse and tote bag until I managed to finagle it into my hand and press the answer button before crooking my neck around like a contortionist to get my ear to the screen.
“Hi Dad,” I said, glad to hear from him.
Things had never really returned to normal after everything went down with him-who-shall-not-be-named. I wasn’t sure if he just had never forgiven me, or if he wasn’t sure how to father a grown daughter, but we were trying. It took some time, but we’d finally gotten to a place that was ok. We could hold a conversation without discomfort bleeding in around us, and we even worked on Dad’s new project car together occasionally.
“Hey, Mom wanted me to ask if you were going to make it to dinner tonight. She mentioned that you were working on an important account and might not get done with work until late tonight.”
