Chapter Twenty
Libra
“Velma Lou?”
I hear his voice, but I ignore him because I’m not ready to wake up just yet.
“Velma Lou?”
Shit.My father isn’t giving up.Opening one eye, I blink up at him.“Yeah?”
“You need to get up.”
“Why?”I’ve barely gotten to sleep.“Is something wrong?”
“You’ve been asleep for a full day.”
Frowning, I look down at myself.I’ve still got on the clothes from earlier.One of my shoes is off, but the other is still there.“I haven’t been asleep all day.”Doesn’t he remember going to Mona’s?
“You went to take a nap yesterday.I checked on you last night to make sure you weren’t sick or something, but you were out like a light.I let you sleep, but then morning came and went.If you’re sick, we need to get you in to see the doc.Of not, you need to get your ass out of bed, Velma Lou.”
I’m still confused even after my father’s dissertation because I can tell you with absolute certainty that those were the most words he’s ever said strung together like that in his entire life.“I’ve been sleeping since yesterday?”
“You have.Are you ill?”
I blink and think.Am I feeling ill?Shaking my head, I push myself up and then swing my legs over the side of my bed.I’m stiff and sore, yes.But I don’t feel ill.“I’m not sick, Dad.”
“Well, good.Now, get your ass up.That stupid show’s about to start.Bella’s on her way over here.”
Bella.That show.Chase.
My head starts to pound, my stomach flips, and reality returns.I remember.Chase has a disconnected phone number.He shook hands with Mona.He didn’t like me the same way I liked him.He didn’t care about me.I was a fling.No one wants me.No one has ever wanted me.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
My head jerks up and I look at my father.“What?”
“I can see it in your face.You’re frowning and your shoulders are all slumped.Get your ass up.Make yourself one of them ice cream drinks you like.”
“A malt.”
I do love a good malt.
“Yeah.And make me one while you’re at it.”
That puts a smile on my face.A little one.“Sure.I’ll be down.”
“Bella’ll be here pretty quick.”
“Okay.”
“You slept for twenty-four hours.”
It’s not a question.
I lift both shoulders.“Give or take.”It was actually closer to twenty-six hours, but I don’t think I should tell her that.
“That’s what we call depression.”
