Goodgrief, I hadn’t felt this shitty since… well, okay, it hadn’t been that long.But Ihatedfeeling this way. I hatedthat less-than feeling that hollowed out my chest cavity and churned in my gut.My body felt empty, boneless and bloodless, nothing but an empty shell thatcouldn’t do anything right. The words rang over and over and over in my head whilemy thoughts tumbled together, never forming useful ideas or coherent sentences.
Beforeit had always been Derrek’s opinion that hurt the most. And always because itwas aimed at personal things about me. I wasn’t good enough. Pretty enough.Smart enough. I wasn’t ever going to be anything. Amount to anything.Accomplish anything. My soul wasn’t worthy. My very humanity unqualified.
Atleast I could call that for what it was—an attempt to manipulate and controlme. And I’d let it. I’d let those ugly, filthy words twist my spirit until Iwas wrung so tight I started to unravel.
Killian’sinsults weren’t nearly as bad. He’d offended me on a professional level. He’dtaken my hopes and fears and thrown them in my face. And he’d called me out.
Buthe hadn’t dedicated years to breaking me. He hadn’t trapped me in his worldwhere he could poison me, where he could direct my slow death. He hadn’t abusedme.
He’djust pissed me off.
Ihad two days to finish a new menu and prove him wrong. And I would.
I’dprove them both wrong.
“Well,if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty.” My dad’s gravelly voice greeted me in thekitchen. He stood over the sink with a store-boughtdanishhalfway to his mouth.
Iwrinkled my nose at the processed food, but didn’t say anything because theywere his absolute favorite. This picture of my dad, one hand braced against thescuffed sink basin, the other holding some variation of manufactured pastry,crumbs dusting his chin, was one I would always remember.Thiswas my dad.
“Sorry,”I mumbled through a yawn. “I’m not used to working so late.”
Hewinked at me. “I remember those days. Man, do they mess with your internalclock. It always felt weird to drink beer at seven in the morning. But thenagain, you can’t end the work day without a beer.” He finished off the secondhalf of his pastry in one giant bite. “It used to be quite the conundrum.” Hiswords were muffled by his full mouth, and his eyes were so thoughtful, so richand deep with years of life and experience and wisdom.
“Idon’t think it would be hard for me to decide.”
Mydad chuckled. “Yeah, it was never too hard for me to choose either. Besides ifyou pick the light stuff, it can be considered breakfast too.”
“Isthat how it works?” I smiled at him and moved to the refrigerator. My handclosed around the orange juice carton, and it was all I could do to keep frompopping the top off and guzzling it straight from the carton. Partly because ofthirst, but also because of old habits that hadn’t died. I never expected tohave to move back here at twenty-six, and there was just something about drinkingstraight from the carton that brought out the fourteen-year-old kid in me.
“Whatare your plans for the day?” Dad asked after he’d washed and dried his hands.
“Idon’t even know where to start,” I told him. “I want to talk to a fewdistributors, and there’s this farmer’s market I found online that I’d like to wanderaround.”
“You’renot open tonight, though, are you?”
Ishook my head and enjoyed a long gulp of orange juice from a tumbler. “Nope.Thursdays through Saturday. For now.”
“Youwannaget dinner with me tonight?” he asked. “Wecould go down to the Riverwalk and grab tacos at that place you like.”
Worrypitted in my stomach, quickly growing roots and spreading out under my skin. “Areyou sure you’re up for it?”
Hewaved me off. “I’m fine. Besides, haven’t you heard of the curative powers oftacos? For as smart as you are, I wonder sometimes.”
Therewas a twinkle in his eye, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, I hadn’theard of that before, but who am I to argue with medical science?”
“Mythoughts exactly. Invite your brother. He’ll get jealous if we leave him outagain.”
“Again?”
Mydad gestured at the kitchen. “You know, because you’re living here with me. Hefeels like he’s missing out on something.”
Mymouth unhinged. “He doesn’t live here because he has an actual apartment.Because he can support himself at his actual job. What is there to be jealousof?”
Dadlet out a long-suffering sigh. “Well, you know your brother. He’s moresensitive than you.”
Ilaughed again and felt encouraged at his surprising burst of energy. “That’strue,” I agreed. “Fine, I’ll invite my poor, delicate brother to tacos. Ibetter go then. I’ve got a lot to do in a short amount of time.”
“Don’trush for me, baby girl. I can eat a late dinner.”
