Chapter 47 - Levana
An hour later, I wasin the kitchen making myself a sandwich, mentally procrastinating my visit to Saint, when my father walked in through the garage door.
He paused there for a moment, unable to mask his surprise. “Feeling better, sweetheart?”
“Yes, dad. Sandwich?”
“Would be good, thanks.”
“Cold Turkey or Ham and cheese?”
“Cold Turkey, please.” He dropped his laptop bag on the breakfast nook and slid onto a stool, watching me while I worked. “Levana?”
Hearing the indecision in his tone, I looked up from the Turkey I was arranging on the bread. “Yes.” I could see he wanted to say something, and I don’t know why I felt I had to brace myself for it, but even when it came, I wasn’t prepared.
“You and Saint...there’s something going on between you two?”
“You...you know,” I stammered, confirming instead of denying.
He nodded and shocked, I waited for him to say more. Awkward silence pervaded the space between us as he ran a finger along an imaginary line on the wooden countertop. My poor heart that had taken a beating from the situation with Saint, hammered against my chest now, pleading for a respite. It felt like hours before dad finally looked at me. The fact that he wasn’t shouting or telling me I messed up was a simple sign that he either accepted it or his rant was still coming.
“I can’t tell you that I’m pleased, sweetheart. Saint is...” he hesitated, and my lungs deflated with the constricting air in my throat.
“Dad—” I began, and he held up a hand to stop me.
“Hear me out, please.” His brown eyes softened confirming he wasn’t angry. “Saint isn’t a man I would want as my daughter’s boyfriend. While the age factor is concerning his practices are little overwhelming for a child.”
Setting the knife I held down on the plate, I reached for his hand. “I know all about Saint’s BDSM lifestyle, if that is what you’re worried about. He hasn’t hurt me, not once. If anything, I couldn’t have asked for a gentler person to teach me all I need to know about sex.” I was lying through my teeth about the gentle part because boy, did Saint’s punishment sting at times. His aftercare though, was something I could never lie about.
Dad shot up out of his seat and with his hands in his pants pockets, he paced the floor. Judging by the stiffness to his shoulders, I could tell he was trying to accept what I’d just said.
“He took advantage of you because you’re a child. That ritual gave him ideas and he followed you here—”
“If that is true, dad, then why didn’t he take me the night of the ritual. Why did he send me away the second my mask came off? Why didn’t he take me the moment he became my teacher or the minute he walked through that door,” I pointed to our front door, “and found out I was your daughter. Because he fought every second of his attraction to me, until he couldn’t, he didn’t take advantage of me.”
“He’s eighteen years older than you, Levana. One Eight. I don’t know how people would react to that.” He sounded frustrated.
Walking around the counter, I stood in the way of his pacing, forcing him to stop and look at me. “The only person whose opinion counts, is yours, dad.”
His nostrils flared for a second. “And if I asked you to stop seeing him, would you?”
“Would you?” I whispered. “Saint was the one person who saw me for me. Not my age or my gullibility or my virginity. Flaws, vulnerability, and all, he accepted me. But you’re my father, and I love you. You gave me freedom at the same time sheltering me.” I exhaled on a slow breath letting my words sink in. “And I will respect your decision.”
“You will?” His eyes widened in surprise.
My bottom lip between my teeth, I nodded. “If Saint truly has feelings for me, he’ll wait until I’m eighteen and I finish school, which is in a few months.”
“What about after school? College? He’s not a man who falls in love and you need to secure your future,” he asked, desperation lining his tone.
“Dad, I get the feeling you’re hiding something from me, some secret you know about Saint. Do you want to tell me?”
He turned away to grab a glass of water at the sink and I wasn’t sure if it was a ruse to avoid my observation. “I’m just worried about you, sweetheart,” he said while rinsing his glass. “I wouldn’t be a good father if I didn’t, right?”
“You’re being evasive.” I went back to making the sandwich. “Mother took everything from me, please don’t take Saint from me, too,” I said without looking at him.
