“What a crock of shit,” Jack snorts. “You don’t owe him a damned thing.”
And deep down, I know he’s right about that, I do, it’s just…
I squeeze the steering wheel, keeping my eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Sometimes it feels like my fault,” I admit.
“What? Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I was fucking born, wasn’t I?” I huff. “Seems that was enough.”
“Abby…”
I tense as I prepare myself for the same level of pitying commiseration I’m used to from Ian and Lila, so what comes out of Jack’s mouth next takes me by complete surprise.
“That’s fucking stupid,” he finishes.
I can’t help it; a short laugh barks out of me. “What?”
“Your dad is a grade A douchebag. It’s not your fault he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He’s just a sad old man preying on you because he knows you have a big heart.”
I press my lips together. “And how would you know I have a big heart?”
“Because I’ve watched you with Ian, and with Dee—hell, even with me lately. You mayactlike a feral cat sometimes, but inside you’re a big ole marshmallow.”
“Are you calling me soft?” I ask indignantly.
He shakes his head. “No. I’m saying you were forced into this role where you think you have to be hard all the time, but you really don’t. You can lean on other people sometimes.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” I say bitterly, feeling a little shaken up by his very correct assessment of me.
“I mean, that’s fair,” Jack says. “But I know you’re the type of person who would put your own needs aside for the sake of someone else’s. I know you’re the type of person that would help a guy she barely tolerates just because she was the only one who could at the moment. That’s plenty of information for me.”
I feel my traitorous eyes start to well up, trying to keep them on the road but chancing a glance at Jack all the same to find him staring intently at the side of my face.
“What sort of things has he been texting you?”
I have no idea what prompts me to do what I do next, but I can feel myself reaching for my phone to unlock it, opening the text message thread between me and my dad and silently handing it over to Jack so that he can peruse. He’s quiet for a moment, concentrating intently on the messages in front of him, but after a little bit, he scoffs loudly, shoving the phone back in my direction.
“This is bullshit, Abby, you know that, right? Fuck that guy.”
Fuck that guy.
He doesn’t offer me solutions, doesn’t tell me what he thinksI should do about it—just clearly states how fucked it is on my behalf.
I didn’t realize how badly I needed that until this very moment.
“I know it is,” I admit, my throat getting a little tighter. “I should block his number.”
“Why don’t you?”
He doesn’t say it like an accusation, more like he’s genuinely curious.
“Because…” I let out a sigh. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“I’m over here basically risking my whole arm just to finish out a season on my own terms,” he says. “Who am I to judge?”
“I guess…” I shake my head. Even in my thoughts, it sounds stupid. “I guess I keep hoping he might change. I guess there’s a small part of me that hopes one day he’ll want to actually know me.”
I feel a tear slip down my cheek, praying Jack can’t see it in the darkness of the car, but when I set my phone back on the middle console, I jolt in surprise when I feel his hand cover mine.
