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Nixon shakes his head. “I swear if you two don’t drive me crazy nobody will.”
“Yeah, well, you love us, so…”
A smile appears on my brother’s face. “You’re lucky I do.”
“Here you go,” Yasmin places two coffees on the counter. “What are you boys up to?”
“I have another class in twenty, and then practice.”
“Let’s hope Coach doesn’t keep us well into the dead of the night again,” Prescott mutters, taking a sip of his coffee.
“It’s an important game.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, expecting a message from one of my friends, only to find a familiar stream of numbers written on the screen. My stomach sinks, my heart pounding faster in my chest, the beat of it echoing in my ears and dulling the noises around me.
Dad’s been more insistent ever since I answered his call the other day. There was nothing that I wanted to say to him. He apparently didn’t share my sentiment. He knew I answered the phone, and now, he was relentless in his pursuit to get me to talk to him.
Unknown: I know you’re seeing my messages, Jade.
My anger boils inside me. More than a year, and this is all he has to say?
Why the hell was he even back after all this time, anyway?
He probably needs something. There was no other explanation.
The phone buzzes once again, and another message pops on the screen.
Unknown: I tried giving you time to text me back, but if I don’t hear from you soon, I might have to do something you won’t like. You don’t want me to call Nixon, do you? Call me.
I grit my teeth as I read the message. He thinks he can threaten me? With Nixon, of all people? If my brother were to find out Dad’s back, he’d go completely livid.
Shit. That’s what he wants.
My fingers tighten around the phone as I type back.
Me: Leave Nixon out of it.
Unknown: You know what’s the price for that.
Yeah, I damn well knew.
There was always a price for loving a man like my dad.
* * *
Spotting the SUV parked in front of the house, I quickly pull my car into the driveway and rush out.
“Dad?” I yell, looking around the first floor, but there is nobody.
He’s here. His car is outside,I chastise, climbing up the stairs.
Although I went to my room, I could still hear Dad and Nixon fighting. It was hard not to when they were screaming at the top of their lungs at each other. Then he stormed out. When he didn’t come back, I feared the worst. But he’s back.
“Dad?” I call out as I move down the hallway.
When there’s no answer, I tentatively push open the door to the guest room where my dad’s been staying ever since he came back, only to come to a stop.
“What are you doing?”
