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“Enough,” I snap, sitting up. “Don’t be so vulgar, Kayley. There’s no need for that.”
She scoffs.
Lola has sat up now, looking between us like she’s convinced this is some sort of dream. I have to fight the urge to reach over and tuck her sleep-messy hair behind her hair.
“No need for vulgarity,” Kayley says, nodding slowly, sarcastically. “No, no, of course not. We can’t be vulgar, can we? Okay, let me ask you a different way. Dear Father, was there really nobody else you could insert your penis into? There, are you happy now?”
I sigh, standing up and reaching over to her.
She recoils from me, turning away. She’s wearing the purple bathrobe she’s had since she was fifteen years old, her hair tied up, her cheeks red with fresh tears. I wonder if she’s been crying about Ryan this morning.
Or was she standing over us, staring, crying, before we woke up?
I have no idea how long she could’ve been lurking over our sleeping forms.
“It’s not like that,” I tell her.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Kayley snaps. “As if I haven’t got enough to worry about right now. Now I have to deal with this, too? Jesus, Dad, what’s the matter with you?”
“He’s right,” Lola murmurs. “Kay, I’m so sorry. But this isn’t what you think. It isn’t just some hookup.”
“Is that what he told you?” Kayley spits, arms folded, keeping her distance from us as though we’re radioactive. “Don’t be so gullible, Lola. Of course, it’s just some hookup.”
“What do you mean, of course?” I snarl. “I haven’t been with a woman since your mother.”
“Is that true?” Lola says, standing up slowly and rubbing sleep from her eyes.
She looks so vulnerable right now. I just want to hold her, protect her from any sort of confrontation.
Kayley flounders, opening her mouth to talk, closing it, and then opening it again.
She huffs and throws her hands up.
“Fine,” she snaps. “I’ll admit that I haven’t seen you with anyone since Mom left. But just because I haven’t seen it, it doesn’t mean you haven’t been doing it.”
“Well, I haven’t,” I sigh.
“Prove it.”
I laugh in disbelief, shaking my head. “How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”
“So you can’t?” Kayley says, sounding manic. “What you’re saying is that you can’t prove it. So for all I know poor Lola here is just another in a long line of women you’ve seduced and discarded since Mom.”
“Let’s all just sit down,” I say, biting down on my rage.
It bubbles beneath the surface, trying to explode.
The idea of being with anybody other than Lola sickens me.
“We can talk about this,” Lola agrees, looking between us like a referee. “There’s no need for all this.”
“Fine,” Kayley snaps. “I’ll sit down. We’ll talk. But only because you asked me, Lola.”
The three of us walk wordlessly to the table and chairs in the corner of the room, near the window. It’s where Kayley and I used to play board games when she was younger. It looks out upon the rear of the estate, showing the long snow-coated lawn.
I’m just pulling my chair out when my phone buzzes loudly from my inside pocket.
I pull it out reflexively, glancing at it.
“It’s the sheriff’s office,” I murmur. “What the fuck?”
“Answer it,” Lola urges. “It could be important.”
Her voice is shaky.
I can tell she’s thinking about Quinn Lineman.
It’s the worst possible timing, but a man who owns dozens of businesses around town can’t afford to ignore a call from the sheriff.
Repressing a sigh, I swipe to answer.
Chapter Fifteen
Lola
“What?” Liam snaps, gripping the phone tightly in his fist.
I look between Liam and Kayley, something I’m aware I’ve been doing a lot since Kayley woke us up. I still can’t believe that we let ourselves fall asleep on the couch like that, intertwined, but it was just so comfortable lying in his arms.
But now it’s Saturday morning and everything is spinning out of control.
Saturday morning, I repeat in my mind, stunned by the speed of everything.
We only arrived here yesterday, technically speaking. Yet I don’t find myself rebelling against the closeness. I don’t want to fight it. It feels real.
It feels right.
Kayley frowns uncertainty dancing in her eyes.
Liam’s face changes from grim to grimmer as the person on the other end of the line continues to speak. Finally, he sighs.
“I’ll be right there,” he snaps.
He hangs up and glances at Kayley and then me. His eyes say so much even as he stares silently. His hair is matted in tufts from sleep, silver sticking up here and there. His suit is crinkled, hugging even closer to his muscular form. He looks ready to burst.
“What’s happened?” I ask, dread surging in my belly.
Is it Quinn?
“Somebody vandalized the club,” he sighs.
“What did they do?” Kayley asks, voice sharp.
Pathetic relief swims through me when I hear the worry flaring beneath her words. Surely if she’s worried about the club, that means that she still wants there to be a club, and by extension, she doesn’t want to leave her father’s life—or my life.
