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“Hey darlin’, how are you doing?” I turn and smile as Jackson approaches.
“Good. Busy night.”
He nods. “We don’t have problems with Saturday attendance, that’s for sure.”
I nod and smile. “Thanks again for this.”
“Anything for my best girl,” he winks and chucks my chin while I roll my eyes. “It’s good to see you smile again, Liv.” His expression sobers a bit.
“It’s good to have a reason to smile again.”
“Gah! Stop,” he chuckles and pulls me in for a hug. I squeeze him tight, and he releases me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He looks down at the end of the bar and waves at Garrett, who salutes him.
My dad is sitting on the couch in front of me, his head in his hands. He rubs his forehead and I see the worry in his eyes. I reach out for him, but he doesn’t see me. I try to call for him, but no sound comes out. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get close to him.
He stands and hurls his empty coffee mug at the wall. It shatters and the pieces clatter to the floor. “Fuck!”
His face is red and his chest heaves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this angry. “Dad!” I shout, but he ignores me. What the hell?
I blink my eyes open and I’m in my room at John’s house. Dylan is asleep next to me, sprawled on his back with his arm draped over his eyes. I had another nightmare earlier in the night and he laid next to me without me having to ask.
I stare at the ceiling and try to figure out what the hell just happened. It was like a dream, but it wasn’t. It felt so real. Different from the nightmares. Unease settles into my gut, and I have the overwhelming urge to call my dad. I roll out of bed and Dylan wakes, sitting up with alarm.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. The clock on my phone says it’s just past seven in the morning. My dad should be up. I hit the call button and sit on the bed, facing Dylan.
It goes to voicemail, so I call again.
“Livvie? What’s wrong?” My dad’s tired voice comes through the line.
“Are you ok?”
Silence.
“Are you ok?” he asks.
“I’m fine. I had a bad dream about you.”
He lets out a weary sigh.
“Dad… just tell me. You’re scaring me.”
“Your mom lied. Her husband didn’t die from cancer. They’re separated, but she’s still married to him. She left him last year like she left us.”
My rage skyrockets.
“I should have listened to you, Livvie. I’m sorry.”
The pain in his voice makes whatever is left of my heart ache.
“I feel like such an idiot,” he says.
“Don’t Dad. She manipulated you. She knew you would try to help her.”
He sighs and a few seconds of silence pass.
"How did you find out?" I ask.
