“I lied about that, Raff. Are you making a move on Alexandra?”
I faced him while tamping down my ire. It took a beat for me to get my thoughts together. “Mom’s always called her ‘my girl.’ You’re reading too much into this, Dad.”
His brow slowly inched up. “Am I?”
God, I hated how well he could read me.
“You are, but what difference does it make?”
Dad stepped toe-to-toe with me, his face set like stone. “The difference it makes is that he trusts you like nobody else. You break that… it’s a long road before you can repair it.Ifyou can even repair it.”
“Isn’t it her choice? Or have I got to get Cal’s permission first? It’s not like you’re going to treat Bobby, Ryan, or Killian that way if we were talking about Jasmine.”
Dad’s lip curled. “Don’t muddy the water by bringing your sister into this. And you know it’s Alexandra’s choice, but it doesn’t change how he’ll see it if you sneak around. Like you took advantage of a situation.”
I clenched my jaw and turned my glare toward the fridge. Finally, I met Dad’s gaze, but he spoke first.
“I see you get me.”
“No. You see that I’m pissed. It’s only because of this fucked-up sitch that I found out she dropped that loser boyfriend months ago since nobody told me that.”
“Why the hell would they? You’ve been actin’ like a disinterested jackass the past four years.”
The hiss of the glass door sliding open interrupted our stare-down. I leaned over and caught Mom glaring at me.
She bustled up to us. “What are you two arguing about? We can hear you outside.”
That wasn’t true. Mom hated being left out of a conversation between me and Dad, so I knew she’d been trying to eavesdrop.
Dad aimed a dry look at her. “If they can hear us, then you would know what we’re arguing about.”
“Don’t get logical with me, mister. Besides, Cal figured out Abby didn’t need more salsa right off the bat, so you two need to wrap this little soirée up real quick.”
Normally Mom using the word ‘soirée’ would make me laugh. Right now, not so much.
I grabbed a tub of salsa, two bottles of Blue Moon (since that’s what Alexandra drank), and moved to get out of the kitchen.
Mom snagged one of the bottles. “Your girl can’t drink because of her medicine. And if this fucked-up day has extracted your head from your ass… I’m glad it only took you four-ish years to your father’s ten. Just, do us all a favor.”
I waited for her to say more.
She shot a coy grin at Dad, then pointed the bottle at me. “Don’t fuck it up.”
“Woman, this is not the same thing,” Dad muttered.
She sipped the beer. “You’re right… and yet, you’re still wrong. Now I need some chips to chase this beer.”
Chapter five
Scary
Alexandra
Bythetimewe’dfinished dinner, my headache went from a pulsating pain to a semi-noticible throb. If it weren’t for my pain, this would have felt like old times.
No. That wasn’t entirely accurate.
It would have felt like old times if Rafferty and Uncle Roll hadn’t been acting weird, with a side of Aunt Trixie bubbling with excitement. At first I’d wanted to blame her excitement on having one too many beers, but that wasn’t it. I suspected I knew what it was, but thatcouldn’tbe right.
