Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
“How are they treating you over there?” he asks. “Your mom’s new man isn’t putting any moves on you, is he?”
I cringe. “Ew, no. Carson’s nice.”
“That’s good.” Dad nods. “You got a job yet?”
“Not yet.”
This clearly displeases him. “Figure out what you’re gonna do at least?”
“Um…no.” I hate admitting this to him. Dad really wants me to have my entire life figured out already, when I don’t even know if I want to go to college or go the career route yet. “But I just graduated, I’m still thinking.”
“Right.” He nods. “Well, don’t think forever. Time only goes one way, and that’s forward.”
He just loves his little words of wisdom and little sayings he’s picked up throughout his life. I just nod again and look around the room, pretending to be interested in the many things he has on display: a wooden pistol from some old war, a gold coin behind glass, some kind of animal bone that he probably isn’t allowed to have and bribed or threatened a museum to give to him.
“Are you seeing anybody?” His next question really shakes me. There’s no way I’m ever going to tell my dad about my romantic life; I already made that promise to myself. It would just cause way too many problems – not just for me, but for the guy as well. And with this being Blake in this case, someone super special to me, the last thing I want to do is get him in trouble with my dad.
“Nope,” I lie, shaking my head. “Not seeing anybody.”
“No?” my dad asks, raising his eyebrows as he takes another drag from his cigar. “What about this Blake fellow?”
My heart nearly stops inside my chest.
I try not to show it, but I’m sure my terror is showing all over my face.
“H-how do you…?”
My dad just chuckles. “Come on. You think I’d let my daughter go live with strangers and not keep an eye out on her?” he asks. “Luna, you’re smarter than that.”
My heart is ready to burst. A cold sweat is breaking out all over my body. I’m in no danger here, but my fight or flight instincts are kicking in just the same as if I was being surrounded by a group of muggers.
Does my dad have men at Carson’s house right now? Does he have eyes on Blake at this very moment?
“So I ask you again, honey.” He smiles, showing his perfectly white veneers. “Is there anything going on between you two?”
I’ve never acted before, despite both of my parents wanting me to join the drama club all throughout school, but I somehow manage to force myself to scoff and grimace like the mere suggestion of Blake and me getting together is absolutely disgusting.
“Ew, yuck! Come on, Dad. He’s my step-brother.”
“Step-brother,” he replies. “Not blood related. I could see you two doing something stupid like young kids do.”
“No,” I reply vehemently. “Nothing is going on, Dad.”
“And you’re sure of that, Luna?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “Because I sure would hate for something to happen to that young man if he were to put a hand on my daughter…”
* * *
The drive home feels even longer than the drive over. The whole way I’m trying to think up some way out of this situation, but nothing I can come up with seems to do it.
My dad isn’t like my mom or Carson. Sneaking around behind his back isn’t exciting – it isn’t a turn-on. I can’t expect him to just come around down the line and accept my relationship with Blake. What I can expect from him is to do something completely out of hand that would endanger Blake in a way that would end up being my fault, and that’s something I know I’d never be able to forgive myself for.
Honestly, I can only see this going one way, and that way doesn’t end with Blake and me in a loving relationship with one another.
I’m on the verge of tears as I pull up to the house and have to do a lap around the block to keep myself from crying before I come back and park. I don’t want to be questioned by my mom or Carson when I go inside.
They’re both in the kitchen when I do go back in. I try to avoid them and just go up to my room, but of course my mom sees me and comes over.
“How’d it go?” she asks. “Not too bad, I hope?”
I don’t want to get into it with her, so I just force the fakest smile I’ve ever forced in my life and nod. “Yeah, not too bad.”
This, of course, makes her happy, and she pulls me in for a hug. “I’m so glad, sweetie,” she says with a sigh of relief. “Carson and I are making spaghetti Bolognese. It will be ready in a half hour.”