“Look, I know you’re trying to find your own way, and I respect that.But Jag Rath isn’t someone you want to be involved with.”
“Okay, daddy.”
His brows furrow.
“I can handle myself.”I stand, grabbing the vodka bottle from the closet.
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“Your mental health.”
I go still.“What about it?”
“I don’t know how to be what you need.I wasn’t there for you before.I can’t change that.But I’m here now, and I need to know… What do you need from me?”
My chest constricts.
How long have I dreamed of hearing those words from a parent who cared enough to ask?
Never.
I never dared to dream of such a thing.
What am I supposed to say to him?
I could be honest.Just peel back my ribs, let the nightmares crawl out, and traumatize him until he’s eating trauma for every meal.But I don’t know how to bleed without making a mess.
So I do what I always do.
I smirk.“A million dollars, a private jet, and a harem of horny women.”
He doesn’t laugh.He just watches me with too-perceptive eyes.
“I don’t know.”I shift on my feet.“I guess… Just… Don’t give up.”
“Never.”
“I’m gonna dip.”I tip the bottle in a mock salute and turn toward the door.
He watches me go, his gaze burning between my shoulder blades.He wants to say more.Wants to tell me he cares.Maybe even that he loves me.
But he doesn’t.
And that’s fine.
Because I already know.
The moment I step out onto the quiet street, I light a smoke.As the first drag hits my lungs, I shudder with relief.Nicotine threads through my veins, sanding down the toothy edges of my thoughts.
The vodka helps, too.
I take a long pull from the bottle and turn the corner, nearly stepping on a homeless man.
He sleeps in the doorway of a jewelry store, the windows dark.Closed for the night.
One eye slits open, his expression slack.Resigned.
