"It's your father."
"Don't answer it."
"It's one a.m. there. It could be important," I tell her before answering on speaker phone. "Hello." A pillow slams into my face before I can finish, and I catch it one-handed.
"I want to speak to my daughter," Warrick's voice comes through the speaker, hard and demanding.
I raise an eyebrow as Asha stomps her foot and motions for me to hang up, to which I silently mouth back,No.
This isn't me choosing sides. If I had to pick one, it's always hers, but we aren't going to figure anything out by building walls and holding onto resentment. I know why she's avoiding everyone back home. She's scared, and there's no room for anything else when fear controls you. She can't think about an actual future with me when she's too scared to let anyone close, scared of losing them, scared of betrayal. That's why I answered. It's time to start chipping away at the fear. And I have to take that advice too.
When she sees I'm not going to give in to her demands, she puts a knee on the bed and snatches the phone from my hand. "Why are you calling me on Trigger's phone?"
"You're not answering or returning any of my calls." Static crackles through the line with his irritation. "You're not even responding to your friends."
"And how would you know that?" She's pacing now, bare feet padding hard against the hardwood, the phone gripped white-knuckled in her hand.
"I ran into Sydney at the coffee shop in town and asked if she'd heard from you. I don't need to fill you in on how the rest of the conversation went. I'm sure you can guess."
I roll my lips. His response does not sit right with me. I've had my own suspicions about Warrick since he and Asha returned to Fairfield. None of them are remotely related to Asha's suspicions, which is why they've stayed tucked away, but his supposed run-in with Sydney out of all her friends. Sydney—the same friend who stayed at their Louisville estate over the holidays, the same friend with a trust fund that rivals the one percenters we attended boarding school with—stayed inAsha's family home instead of checking into a hotel or, better yet, getting another temporary residence while their place was worked on.
Asha's theories and my suspicions may have nothing to do with each other, but they are definitely shading the same picture. Warrick has secrets.
"There's a reason for that. I have nothing to say to you," Asha says simply, but her free hand curls into a fist at her side.
"Asha, this is ridiculous." His voice rises. "You need to come home. We're not losing anything by giving those acres back to the Hales."
"You knew the ranch was important to me. That's why you kept me from it." Her voice cracks just slightly, and she stops pacing. "You were going to let it go right under my nose."
"You're my daughter, Asha!" His voice explodes through the speaker, loud enough that I can hear it echoing on his end. The anger radiating through the phone is so intense it makes Asha flinch. "I would never make you marry someone over a land dispute."
"It wasn't your choice to make."
A rough exhale filters through the phone, the kind meant to rein in fury. "Your mother's house is built on land I own, land you will eventually own if you end this and come home." His tone shifts, softer now, almost coaxing, which somehow makes it worse.
"Are you threatening me with Mom's house?" Her voice rises, disbelief and rage mixing together. "Why is it so hard for you to accept that maybe this is what I want? What I've always wanted."
"Because it's not!" There's a loud CRACK through the speaker, the unmistakable sound of a palm slamming against wood. The violence of it makes Asha jerk back a step. "It's not what you want, Asha. You're doing this to punish me."
I'm on my feet before I realize I've moved, crossing to her. Her whole body is coiled tight.
"Maybe you deserve to be punished," she shoots back, but her voice wavers. "Did you ever think of that?"
Another sound comes through, something heavy hitting the floor. "I'm your father. Everything I've done has been to protect you?—"
"Protect me?" Her laugh is sharp and bitter. "You've been controlling me. There's a difference."
"Asha, that's not?—"
"No." Her hand is shaking now. "I'm done. Don't call again."
She ends the call, and the sudden silence is deafening. She tosses the phone onto the bed like it's burned her.
"Asha—" I start, taking a step toward her.
"Don't." The word comes out raw, but she doesn't step away from me. "I'm upset, but I don't know which reason is harder to swallow: feeling like I'm losing my dad or knowing he's still keeping things from me."
I'm close enough to see everything she's trying to hide, her fear, her fury, her hurt…it’s all there, bleeding through the cracks. She finally lifts her eyes to mine, and the devastation there nearly levels me.
