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He didn’t reply.
Not even a grunt this time.
But since I was running late, I didn’t take the time out of my day to ask him if there was something wrong that I might be able to help with.Chapter 14Damn, this year went by so fast I didn’t get a chance to lose weight.
-Turner to Castiel
Turner
I opened my eyes and knew without looking at the clock that it was three in the morning.
I’d woken up at this time every single night since it’d happened.
Only this time, I was alone.
Castiel wasn’t there to chase away the bad dreams like he had been the last couple of nights either.
I reached for my phone and started thumbing through Pinterest, then Facebook, followed up by Instagram. Then I went back through those one more time, all under my dad’s accounts—that I managed—and saw all the well wishes.
I saw all the nasty comments, too.
I deleted those.
Thank God my dad didn’t check it.
The first time he read ‘good riddance. The fat bitch didn’t do you any favors’ he would’ve lost his shit.
Most of the comments were great. They were positive and uplifting, as were the majority of my father’s fans. But there were still a few bad apples that had me wanting to delete my father’s entire account.
However, I knew that his publicist wouldn’t approve, meaning that I had to be the better person and not reply.
When I got to a post on my father’s Instagram page left by a ‘TFan1186,’ I frowned.
It was a goddamn novel, and the more that I read of it, the worse my feeling began to be.
I learned of you last year thanks to your daughter’s beautiful smile. Since then, I have become a devoted fan, and have followed you relentlessly. To learn of your wife’s passing truly makes my heart weep. I’m sorry to hear of your loss, and even sorrier that both you and your daughter had to experience that night, causing you to forget how beautiful she was and have it replaced with an image that will never be able to be torn from your mind. If there is ever a thing you might need, I am here. I live very close to your daughter, and if you ever need me, I’m there. Sincerely, a fan.
I curled my lip up by the time I was done reading and wondered who this ‘fan’ was.
I had a feeling that he wasn’t anybody I called a friend, because if he was, I would’ve definitely known that they were a friend.
NASCAR is a really weird sport. Everybody that is anybody loves to talk about it. They’d never miss an opportunity to bring it up, especially with me.
Take my brother’s friend, Dogwood. Dogwood loved NASCAR. Even more, my father was his driver. When Dogwood learned that my brother was the son of the famous ‘Hooch Racing Team’ he about shit a brick. My brother had to threaten him with bodily harm to get him to shut up about it.
Even the less extreme can’t help themselves.
Sitting up farther in bed so that my back was resting against the headboard, I took a screenshot of the comment, then deleted it.
I then went to the other social media platforms to see if I could find more info on the guy besides a generic Instagram profile.
I found another comment on Twitter from the same address, but nothing on Facebook.
Though, granted, I hadn’t looked as hard as I probably could have.
However, scanning through thousands and thousands of posts, some of which were awful and derogatory, put me on edge.
By the time four o’clock rolled around, I was definitely no longer sleepy and in fact well and truly awake.
Deciding some exercise might be good, and a jog around the campground would be perfect, I changed into running clothes.
Once I’d located my headphones—which were tangled into a wadded-up mass in my purse—I pocketed my keys to the RV and headed outside. My phone was shoved into my shirt between my two sports bras and my boobs and I was looking down at my headphones as I untangled them.
Meaning I didn’t realize that someone was outside at the next campground over until I heard them shuffle.
I blinked and looked up to find a small fire lit in the fire ring. The person sitting outside by his fire was also sitting in his car with the door open. He had a cigarette in his hand pressed up to his lips, and he was half in his car and half out, slouched back so far that he looked uncomfortable.
His foot was firmly planted on the concrete spot where an RV would normally reside, and he was facing in my direction.
“Hello.” I waved as I quickly looked away. Reaching up to make sure the trailer was locked, I turned and headed down the road, thankful that the campground had lights on this part of the park.
