“Not at all,” he begins. “I’m not sure if he’s back from his meeting yet, but you can wait in his office if he’s not.”
“Thanks, Marco.”
I get into the elevator, as Marco gives me access to my dad’s floor. When the doors open, I’m greeted with a pitch-black floor. Everyone else must’ve gone home, but one light is still on in his office.
“Dad?” I mumble, heading toward the office. “Hey, Dad, there’s something I need to talk to you abo—”
I feel my heart stop and sink into my stomach as my dinner crawls up my throat.
A redhead that looks closer to my age than his is sitting on his desk with her shirt ripped open, while my dad’s shirt hangs around his shoulders, revealing nail marks on his back. His hand is up her skirt, and even though I can’t tell for sure from this angle, I’m pretty sure that’s not the only thing between her legs.
He adjusts himself like maybe I’m too stupid to realize what I just witnessed—I’m not. And if it wasn’t for the fact that I literally caught them in the act, the sheer layer of sweat would give them away.
“Declan,” he turns around, buttoning up his pants and latching his belt buckle, “what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
twelve
Declan
Iwasn’t expecting you to stop by,” he begins, standing in front of his mystery woman while she makes herself decent.
Which isn’t possible since she’s sleeping with a married man. Aknownmarried man.
“Clearly,” I scoff.
“Why don’t we talk about this in the hall?”
I cross my arms and hold my ground.
“I’m fine talking about it right here.”
He shakes his head, smoothing out his clothes, as she walks out from behind him and sits in the chair. He leans against the desk and looks at me like I’m the one who’s supposed to start this conversation.
“What do you want to know?”
“For starters,” I begin, “how long you’ve been fucking another woman.”
“Language.”
“That’s your concern right now? My language?! What about the fact that you’re blowing up our entire family?”
I feel the tears on my cheeks before I have time to stop them, but it isn’t sadness that I feel, but anger. I can’t remember the last time my dad saw me cry, but I do remember he told mereal men don’t cry. It was mentally beaten into me at a young age that he wouldn’t tolerate such “feminine” actions from his son. He told me he wasn’t raising a pussy, but here I am—crying.
I blink a couple of times, hoping he won’t notice them, but with our eyes locked in a hardcore staring contest, I know it’s easy to notice.
He says nothing, but I don’t know what he could say. Nothing would fix this. For a fraction of a second, I’m sure I see a hint of guilt hiding within his eyes. But the more I study them, the more I realize he doesn’t feel guilty for what he’s doing; he’s just guilty I caught him doing it.
“Really?” I mumble. “You have nothing to say? You’re not gonna try to defend yourself? You’re not—”
“There’s no point in lying about it.” His voice is steady like he doesn’t see anything wrong with this.
“Are you sure?” I laugh. “Because you’ve had no problem doing it for God knows how long!”
I know I need to leave. Not only because I can hardly look at him right now, but I have a game to get to. And Coach will castrate me if I miss it. But I stand there.
Not because I want to but because my body won’t let me do anything else. Because the second I walk out of this office, it all becomes real. And I have to tell my mom… and I have to tell Brin… and I have to be the strong one.
