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“Why the hell are you calling my dad?”
“I can’t say. He’ll kill me,” he blurts.
“Did he tell you to show this place to me? Did he know Ashlynn lives here?” I ask in disbelief.
“Look, I really want to tell you, but I have to play dumb. I’m sorry. Let me call him, and then I’ll call you right back.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll call him myself,” I growl, ending the call.
I take a few deep breaths and then call my father. It rings four times.
“Hey, Chance. What are you up to?” he asks.
“Hey, Dad,” I reply. My nerves are starting to get the best of me. If I come at him the wrong way, he nor my mother will let me hear the end of it. “I’m just relaxing a bit. What are you up to?”
“Ah, so that’s how we’re doing it now?” he chuckles. He could always tell when I was lying. It’s pointless to lie, but I needed to buy myself time to calm down.
“Did you know Ashlynn lived here?” I ask calmly.
He doesn’t say a word, just bursts into laughter. The kind of laughter that tells everything. The kind of laughter that makes me want to wring his neck, but he’s my father, so I just have to sit there and listen to the annoying sound.
When he finally stops laughing, I lean back on the couch.
“You lived there first,” he says smugly. “I just ensured that she rented the place across from you.”
Son of a bitch.
“Why would you do that? You know she hates me,” I reply.
“She doesn’t hate you. She just needs to remember why she chose you in the first place.”
He says it as though it’s a walk in the park. He didn’t see the hurt in Ashlynn’s eyes or hear the anger in her voice. She is a woman scorned, and nothing I say can undo the damage.
“It’s a nice gesture, but we saw each other a little while ago, and I can assure you that she hates me,” I groan.
“Chance, do you have any idea how many times your motherhatedme?” he chuckles. “If I gave up after the first time she told me she hated me, you and your siblings wouldn’t exist.”
“Come on, Dad,” I cringe at the thought of him and my mom hooking up.
“Such a fucking prude,” he laughs. I can hear a few others laughing in the background.
“I interrupt a meeting?”
I hadn’t even thought to ask if he was busy when I called. I usually have more manners than this when I call him. Ashlynn makes my mind a wreck.
“Eh. I called a bit of a sitdown,” he replies nonchalantly.
A godfather calling a sitdown is not a little thing. It means something big is going on, and he is demanding answers. I should be sitting in on the sitdown, but thanks to my trouble with the law, I have to keep away from the house until I’m off papers to keep the police from going to my father’s door.
“I’m missing everything,” I sigh.
“You’re not missing much, figlio.”Son.
“Feels like I am.”
“My orders to you are to get back what’s yours. You let me worry about things over here. Capiche?”
My father is a man of many words but never a man of caring fatherly words. He’s always been rough around the edges. Ever since I can remember, he’s been a hard ass. My mother always got onto him for being too tough on me growing up. He’d tell herBoys shouldn’t be pampered. They need tough love.
