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I should probably be nicer. It’s not like I’m in the habit of being a dick to my mother, but I have a good feeling I know why she’s calling, and I want nothing to do with it. Nor do I understand why she even bothers trying after everything.
My mom did divorce him, thank fuck.
But for some reason unbeknownst to me (and trust me, I’ve tried to understand for the sake of my sanity), she kept his last name, sends him gift baskets in jail like he’s there for a fucking birthday party, and still goes to bat for him when I refuse to talk to him.
Life is too short to hold on to animosity.
Her words. Not mine. And a big, fat lie. Inevitably followed by the same cheesy we-are-the-world bullshit.
“Give yourself permission to move on. A flower can only bloom if it feels the warmth of the sun.”
Fuck that.
I’d take a part-time job as Charon just to ferry my father into the depths of hell. And even that wouldn’t be enough to redeem him. An eternity of punishment is still not adequate for his crimes against my family.
“Hi, sweetie.” Her voice is clear, but it lacks her normal, cheerful tone. It sounds somber.
At one point, I didn’t expect to hear any joy when she spoke. That was when life had beaten her down. Guess that warmth-of-the-sun shit worked because she blossomed, gardening in her spare time and harassing me with the rest of it.
“Are you calling to talk about Dad?”
“Trent—”
“Let me stop you and tell you the same thing I told his lawyer. He’s been dead to me since he tried to sell off Ivy. There is legit nothing you can say that will make me speak to him. It’ll never hap—”
“Trent!” she yells. She never yells.
I halt. Maybe even cease breathing altogether. My pulse thrums against my neck, the long run catching up with me in one fell swoop. I wait for her to finish.
“Your father is dead.”
Chapter
One
PAYTON
My flip-flops slap the pavement with my quick steps. Not a good choice for footwear, but I was running late this morning, and they were still out from the weekend beach trip.
Lucky for me, it’s only a few blocks to school.
It’s the reason Ronald picked it for me to rent. That and its beauty were the deciding factors when we signed the lease.
Four years ago.
Most freshmen at Ludlow University lived in the dorms the first year of school, but not me. My sister’s boyfriend at the time, Ronald, would never allow that. He insisted on renting me the perfect house.
Erin’s dating history could fill a yearbook. Jocks, goths, rockers. She’d done them all, shuffling through men faster than a deck of cards.
But with Ronald, it lasted longer than most. They were together for what seems like forever. About nine years. Until something happened and, like the rest, he was gone.
I still love him like my own brother.
Father, actually.
He’s way older than Erin, who’s way older than me. Unlike the few before him, he has his shit together and has always been good to me, which is why I humored him and let him rent this palace.
Because that’s what it is.
