Page 102 of Keeping Score

Number twenty-six branded on the arm. The fact that it wasn’t a knockoff fan jersey, but a real, genuine Harbor Wolves one.

“Are you—” he stared at her, slightly speechless. “Is she Liam’s—?”

“Wife?” I filled in the blanks. “Yes. And she doesn’t want anything to do with you, either.”

And even after everything—even after knowing what he was and even after claiming that this was the end, the last time I’d bother with him—it still hurt that even an extension of Liam was of more interest to him than his daughter standing in front of him.

“I didn’t know you were so closely acquainted with Liam’s wife to be making late-night ambushes with her,” he said, still staring at her instead of me.

“That’s because you don’t know me,” I said, feeling myself breaking. “And you don’t even want to, do you?”

Disregarding me, he stepped out of the doorway, staring at Cassie intently as he slipped into the role of charming father-in-law.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” he held out a hand, which she felt obligated to take. “Unfortunate that it’s taken this long.”

I scoffed, shaking my head at his audacity.

Cassie, ever fearful of being impolite, said nothing, even as she squirmed to put some distance between the two of them.

“My son’s been stubborn—takes after me in that way.” He chuckled. “But Maggie’s told me about you. He’d do anything for you. You can get him to talk to me, to give me another chance—”

“Oh, no, I—” she stumbled over her words, freezing on the spot.

I stepped in front of her, shielding her from the slimy man in front of us. I didn’t want my father anywhere near her. I didn’t want him to even look at her.

Not because he was a creep or anything. He was, but not in that way. But because he was an exploiter who would prey on someone’s weakness to get what he wanted from them.

And Cassie, pathological people pleaser as she was, would be trapped and defenseless when up against a guy like him.

“You just can’t give it a rest, can you?” I laughed bitterly. “Liam wants nothing to do with you. Cassie wants nothing to do with you. Hell, anyone with a properly functioning brain would want nothing to do with you. But you know who did? Me. I wanted a relationship with you, and you didn’t care. I’m your daughter, and you still didn’t care.”

“What’s all this about, Margaret? Between this and the showing up at my doorstep the other evening, you’re starting to raise some concerns.”

I was starting to raise some concerns?

No. I think I was finally acting like a normal person.

It was like everything that had happened, everything he’d done had finally clicked in my head. The rose-colored glasses were off, the wool had been pulled from my eyes.

He wasn’t the man I’d put on a pedestal. He wasn’t the father I dreamed that maybe he could be, with more patience, more effort on my part.

He was just exactly who he was.

And it wasn’t enough.

“I just wanted to tell you that I don’t need anything from you anymore. I don’t need you to validate my successes, which you never did anyway, by the way—”

“Margaret—”

“I don’t need you to view me in the same light you see Liam. And I really don’t need to keep doing these father-daughter luncheons at shitty, overpriced restaurants where you pay more attention to my boyfriend or the bottle of scotch you order than you do to me.”

“Yeah!” Cassie said behind me.

“Where is this coming from?” he scowled. “Is this your mother talking?”

“No,” I said, outraged. “Because I barely speak to my mother, since for so long I blamed her for you leaving. Can you believe that? I actually blamed the only parent who stuck around for me. She wasn’t perfect, but she tried. And you know what? She did a good job.”

“If this is the type of woman she raised, then that’s debatable.”