Page 30 of The Devil Takes
I hoped today I’d made the right call.
He grunted a greeting at me and I relaxed. He didn’t talk much. Didn’t have to. Even with my nose blind like it was, I could normally feel the storm of his emotions brewing on the horizon. Today he was…blank. Which made me nervous. I didn’t know what to do to mitigate the damage if I couldn’t tell how he was feeling.
“You gonna show me around this shithole or what, boy?” That was probably the longest sentence he’d say all day and I jumped to attention, stepping onto the pavement, a swing in my step that was more than a little faked.
“This way.”
* * *
So far everything had gone surprisingly smoothly. Dad hadn’t said much when I showed him the class buildings. He didn’t mind the cafe, though he was arguably a bit pissed about the prices. I’d had to promise I wasn’t squandering away his hard-earned money on froufrou shit (frappuccinos) or overpriced bean-water (black coffee).
We’d even eaten lunch in relative peace.
Dad had paid.
Not that we’d exchanged more than a few grunts as we’d eaten. I asked about Marv’s newest omega and he grunted out the words “needy bitch” in response, so there was that. Didn’t know if he liked her or not, considering the fact he thought all omegas were bitches. Me included.
Shame curled in my belly as we headed toward Alpha Beta Phi. It was time to show him that I hadn’t been lying when I said going away wouldn’t mean me falling into more “omega shit.”
I knew he wanted to have instilled this deep sense of shame inside of me about it. That he wanted me to hate my designation as much as he did.
But I couldn’t.
I was what I was, and there was no changing that, no matter how much he wished he could.
Being with him reminded me why I did what I did.
Why I hid who I was.
Buried it deep down along with all the other feelings I’d had to swallow over the years.
When we arrived, the house was blissfully empty. The only one home seemed to be Frank, and he’d been steering clear of me ever since our awkward encounter last week. I didn’t blame him. I knew how erratic I’d been acting, but that didn’t mean I could stop. At least I didn’t actually care what he thought of me, or anyone else for that matter.
I was surviving the best way I knew how and that didn’t mean making friends.
Or keeping them, my brain unhelpfully added, as guilt eroded at my heart again the second I thought about Tommy and his icy friendliness. Never thought friendliness could feel so impersonal. Like I was a stranger, not the dude he snorted cheetos with at two in the morning.
Dad eyed my cloudy expression, and I stood up straighter, my arms behind my back, feet shoulder-width apart, head down. He relaxed, like me being in a bad mood was, somehow, killing his mood too. Not that I thought he really cared. He cared about me, sure, but in the same way he cared about his truck, or his trailer.
I was his.
His property.
Therefore, what I did reflected on him.
There was no sparkle in his eyes today. No nachos on the horizon. Only stormy weather and the risk of bruises.
The door to the room pushed open and I grimaced as Brett entered. I’d kinda hoped he wouldn’t be here for this. He’d agreed to help me, sure, but it would’ve been easier to pull off if I didn’t have another person lying to worry about. Hell, if he was a bad liar, I was so fucking screwed. Lying through my teeth was hard enough without him here to listen.
“This doesn’t look like your shit,” Dad finally said, breaking the silence.
He’d been staring at Stinky’s side of the room where I’d directed him, and I grimaced, grateful he wasn’t looking at me. I’d hoped he wouldn’t catch on to that. Though realistically it had been pretty naive of me to think he’d overlook the fact that Stinky’s stuff was pretty much all brand new.
“You been spending my money on this?”
“No, Dad.” Shit. Shit, shit. I hadn’t even thought of that. “Of course not.”
“Liar.”