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He eyes his sister, frustration evident in his tight features. Dix takes being overprotective to an extreme. “Sebastian Beneventi is marrying—”
“Eleanor Kingston,” I cut him off. It’s like this damn wedding is determined to follow me around.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “They’re keeping it small. But Bash has known Watkins since they played together at Kroydon, so he’s invited.”
Maddie shoves her brother’s shoulder, but he doesn’t move. “Yup. And Watty invited me. What’s the big friggin’ deal? You’re going to be there.”
I drop my bag on the floor and try to hide my growing need to never hear about this damn wedding again. “Why are you going to be there?”
“Because Carys invited him,” Mads announces it like she’s trumpeting the birth of a new royal.
Oh, Carys. Of all the people to use to get over someone...
“As a friend, you little shit.” Dixon’s words lack real anger, but the annoyance is there, loud and clear. “She didn’t want to go alone.”
Maddie straightens her spine. “Well, neither did Watkins. What’s the difference?”
“Carys doesn’t want to fuck me.” He stands and marches across the room, flexing his hands like he’s looking for a fight. I think I’m a little worried about Watkins tomorrow. “So help me, Maddie. Don’t do this.”
For a hot minute, I think Mads is going to give in. But I couldn’t be more wrong. She stomps to the bottom of the stairs, then turns around and stares her brother down. “Watch me.”
And that’s exactly what Dixon and I do as she storms up the stairs and slams her bedroom door. Apparently, I’m not the only one whose morning has been ruined by this wedding.
* * *
Needing to keep my brain occupied with something other than Max Kingston, I spent the rest of the day working on Start A Revolution. I’ve managed to narrow down our focus to local after-school children’s programs. Some kids need programs like these because their parents have to work, while others need them because their parents just don’t care. And it’s either this or hanging on a street corner where trouble will, no doubt, find them.
Maddie and Dixon both retreated to their corners earlier and have left me alone. But the weight of the day has worn on me. Apparently, a night spent in Max’s arms and a morning spent dealing with conflict and stress turns me into an old lady because I’m pretty sure in some states, it’s time for the blue-haired, early bird special diners to be coming out, and I’m considering crawling into bed and closing my eyes when my phone vibrates next to me with an unknown number flashing across the screen.
I slide my finger across the screen and hit the speaker button. “Hello?”
“Daphne...” My entire being shudders at the sound of my father’s voice.
“Daddy?” My voice cracks, thick with emotion. “Is that really you? Oh my God, where are you? What happened?” I have so much to say I’m practically tripping over my words. My emotions run wild, and I vacillate between tears of happiness that he’s okay and fury, now that I finally have the chance to confront him and his shitty actions.
“It’s me, honey.” The connection is shaky, similar to the random calls I’ve been getting.
“Have you been calling me and hanging up? Has it been you?” Not sure that it matters, but I still want to know.
His voice is breaking up through the line. “Need you to do something for me...”
“What? Dad, I can barely hear you. What’s happening? Where are you?”
The static hurts my ears and my soul. This is my chance to get answers. To convince him to come home, and I can’t hear him.
“Daph, I need a favor. Do you still have your mother’s wedding rings?”
Indignation lights up my body. “Of course, I still have Mom’s rings. Why wouldn’t I? I’m not the one who sells pieces of our family.” I regret the words the minute they leave my lips. “I’m sorry, Dad. Just tell me where you are and how we can fix this.”
“We can’t fix it...” More static cuts him off. “...need to sell them and wire me the money.” I couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. Could I?
“Wait... what? What do you need me to sell, Dad?” No... please. Just no. “And before you answer and break my heart, do you even want to ask how I’m doing? How I’m handling a life with absolutely no family here to support me? Or how I’m dealing with my father abandoning me? And that’s after he sold my home and did God knows what with all my belongings.” The anger starts as a small flame in the pit of my stomach, but each word fans it higher until my entire body is on the verge of bursting into a flaming fucking inferno.
“Daphne—”
“Don’t,” I stop him. My tentative fury transforming to full-blown rage. “Don’t ‘Daphne’ me. You even closed my trust fund, Dad. You stole it.” I don’t realize I’m crying until my tears trail down over my lips. “I would have given you every penny, but you took it,” my voice grows louder, “from me,” until I’m finally shrieking on a sob. “Your only daughter. And now you want me to sell Mom’s wedding rings?”
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t answer. It doesn’t sound like he even breathes.
