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She’s seriously pissed at this moment, and I don’t have the energy to fight her on something so small in the big picture. Not tonight.
With a sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose and mutter, “Look, it’s not a big deal. They’ll check you over. Make sure everything’s okay. Call your doctor. Your parents––”
“They can’t call my parents,” she rushes out. The blood drains from her face, making her already pale skin even whiter.
Hell, you’d think she’s been caught with drugs on her and will be locked up for the rest of her life with how panicked she looks.
My hand drops to my lap. “Why?”
“Because.”
This girl really is a piece of work.
With a scoff, I prod, “Gonna need more to go on than that.”
“Because I don’t want them to worry.”
“They’reparents,” I tell her dryly. “It’s what they do.”
“Then why feed the fire? I’m fine.”
I shake my head, fucking flabbergasted. “You’re a prickly little thing, aren’t you?”
“I’m not prickly. I’m annoyed.”
“Annoyed you had a seizure?”
“No. I’m annoyed with how you’re not minding your own business and that you want me to call my parents when it has nothing to do with you.”
Well, fuck.
If I hadn’t already been sure the girl was pissy, I am now.
Why is she fighting me on this? Why are we even having this conversation? Why do I even care what she does? Actually, I know exactly why I care. Because I have a kid who’s avoiding me like I’m a criminal or some shit. And I know it isn’t about me, and she can do whatever she wants on her birthday, but I’m still her dad. And if Kate can be so dismissive of her parents, so can Hazel. Which is exactly what she’s doing with me. Not her mom. The woman’s a damn saint in my daughters’ eyes, but me? Their terrible father? Yeah, it’s a bitch.
Shoving my own shitstorm of a life into the back of my mind, I tell Kate, “Look. Your parents care about you. They have a right to know––”
“I’m over eighteen. Well over eighteen,” she spits. “They don’t have a right to anything . Not if I don’t want to tell them. And since I’m conscious and coherent, I can make the call for myself.”
She’s serious. I pull back, surprised by the acid on her tongue and how determined she looks despite the splitting headache I know is cracking her skull in two.
“Fine,” I concede. “Since you won’t call them, I’m staying with you.”
“What?” she screeches.
“I’m staying with you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“You’re right. I don’t. And we can keep it that way if you want, but I know proper protocol after someone with epilepsy has a seizure, Kate.”
She flinches as the word epilepsy slips past my lips, but I don’t call her out on it. Instead, I continue, softening my voice. “You’re not supposed to be alone. If you don’t want your parents around, I’ll be by your side until the doctor discharges you. Once he or she does, I’ll drive you home, confirm one of your roommates is around, and leave you in their care.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“And I’m not treating you like a baby.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing.”
