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Why was he being such a hard-ass? Hell, the sooner she was out of this house, the better.
The knocking continued.
“What?” she shouted.
“Morgan, we need to talk.”
“I was asleep.”
“It’s well after ten and I’m not going to wait. Drag yourself into the living room. I don’t like you staying up to all hours, then sleeping the entire day.”
“I was playing a video game.”
“Why couldn’t you do that in the morning?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
He muttered something behind the door. “I want you out here for a talk.”
“If I do, can I go to the lake with my friends? You only grounded me until Friday.”
“This isn’t a negotiation, Morgan. I have something serious to discuss.”
Jeez. Her dad thought everything was important, everything that mattered to him, at least. He didn’t give a crap about the things that mattered to her.
“Morgan?” he prompted sternly.
“Gimme a minute, I have to get dressed.” That way she could escape to the barns as soon as he was through with his lecture. And she knew it’d be a lecture, because it was always a blah-blah lecture about something.
Yawning, she pulled on her clothes and boots. The one thing her dad hadn’t taken away was her riding privileges; she could still go out on the Black when she wanted. That was, she could go if she didn’t ride too far and if she took the satellite phone and if she made sure someone knew where she was going. From what she’d heard, he’d never needed to do any of that when he was her age.
Three years ago she’d thought she was old enough to ride alone and he had said “no way.” He’d even admitted it would have been different if she was a boy. She wasn’t supposed to know, but Grandpa and Grandma had told him they thought he was wrong, so he’d finally backed down, except for the rules she had to follow.
Tying a bandanna around her neck, she cast a quick glance at the mirror. It was depressing. Okay, she wasn’t Katherine Heigl or anything, but she didn’t want to try to be pretty, did she? Dad probably wanted her to, though. He’d bought her a load of dresses for Christmas. Sometimes she thought that if he couldn’t have a son, he wanted a girlie-girl type daughter who wore dresses and got As in home sciences.
Throwing the door open, she stomped downstairs to the living room, hoping Flora was around. Her dad’s lectures didn’t last as long when the housekeeper could hear them, but she was probably in town doing the shopping.
Morgan dropped into an easy chair and muttered, “So what is it?”
“Don’t sulk.”
“I’m not.” She stuck her chin out. “Did you find some other way I’m screwing up your life and my life and everyone else’s life?”
“I never said you were screwing up anyone’s life and you know it.”
Okay, he hadn’t, but she knew what was behind the things he did say. She was tired of being the burr under everyone’s saddle. Maybe it was possible to get emancipated, the way she’d seen kids do on TV. The thought made her sick to her stomach, but it was something she should check out.
Her dad didn’t say anything else right away and Morgan wondered why. Was he saving up breath for yelling? Maybe, but he didn’t seem as angry as usual.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he finally started again.
“So tell me,” she said flippantly.
“Er...you obviously know I did a few things in high school that weren’t the smartest moves I could have made.” He said it as if he’d memorized the words.
“Yeah,” she answered slowly. “I’ve heard stuff. I know you were supposed to go to college, but you and Mom got married because she was pregnant with me, so everything had to change.”
He seemed a little surprised. “I suppose I should have discussed that with you.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Well, it turns out there’s more to the story.”
Dread hit Morgan’s stomach. She really didn’t want to discuss all the details. Her dad stared out the window as if he’d rather be anywhere but there. So what else was new?
“What about it?” she asked, unable to stand the suspense.
He turned around. “Your mother and I broke up briefly in high school and I dated other girls. One girl in particular. She’d only lived in Schuyler a few months, but her parents grew up here, and her grandparents still live in town. You know the Garrisons, don’t you? Kayla’s mother is their daughter.”
Sure, Morgan knew Mayor Garrison. He ate ice cream at the parlor almost every afternoon, right when school let out. She also knew he had a son who was a lawyer in town, and another kid who’d left Schuyler a long time ago. But Morgan didn’t know much else except he was nice and didn’t seem to mind if a bunch of kids came in at the same time he was there.
