Page 116 of Guarded Deputy

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I forgot I told Lizzy we’d talk today. I slam the steering wheel and pull out of the driveway, racing to House of Pies to pick up the pizza. When I get to the restaurant, I step out of my car and walk in, sending Lizzy a text message apologizing.

Me: Lizzy, I’m sorry. I’ll call you later tonight.

Me: Fuck. I want this.

“Hey,” I tell one of the waiters and walk to the pick-up counter while I wait for my pizza.

I talk to a few people who say hello, not in the mood to socialize. My life’s a mess. It’s not exactly something I want to talk about. I want to stay to myself, process what’s going on, and talk to Lizzy.

I stare at the screen but there’s no sign that she’s responding. I’ll give her some time, be done with this stupid dinner with my dad, and talk to her. I can’t lose her. She’s become the most important woman in my life. The one I hope to have a future with.

I won’t end up like my father.

My phone rings as I’m paying for the pizza, and I see Brooke’s name on the screen.

“Hey, I’m heading home now,” I answer and walk out of the restaurant.

“Nate.” Her voice sounds panicked. “Someone broke into the house.”

Chapter 32

Nate

Myheartpoundsasher words sink in.

“What? That can’t be right. I left Dad—” I stop immediately, kicking the ground. “Fuck! That son of a bitch,” I growl, throwing the pizza box and garnering the attention of people nearby.

“He…” Brooke’s voice shakes. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll be right there. Don’t touch anything.”

“Okay.” She cries, and it breaks my heart.

I shouldn’t have trusted the bastard. I pick up the pizza box from the floor to throw out at home and race to the house. Guilt consumes me for leaving him alone at the house. The part of me that’s a broken ten-year-old believed the man when all he does is leave. The boy in me trusted him enough to think he’d at least stick around for dinner, even if it was one last meal. The one we never got when I was a child since he simply never returned home from work.

But to make it seem like someone broke into the house.

What the hell happened?

I pull into the driveway and fling the door open, stepping out. I run up the porch steps and find Brooke hugging Walker as he cries.

“I’m going to kill him,” I yell.

Walker squeezes Brooke tighter, and I frown.

“Sorry.”

My wide eyes assess the situation a part of me breaking at the thought that our father would do this after so many years. He didn’t just make it seem like someone broke in. It seems he was the intruder. Didn’t he have enough abandoning us?

The couch cushions seem like they were lifted and hastily placed back down. Some of the kitchen cabinets are open.

“My bedroom,” Brooke says.

I stalk that way and find her drawers open and contents spilled about. Her mattress is off-center, and the secret drawer in her dresser is open and empty. Brooke had some money saved in there. I scrub my face, tears burning my eyes.

She doesn’t deserve this. Hell, I don’t deserve this.