Novel Straight 38_I Ran From My Ex, Straight Into My Best Friend’s Father

38

 PART II

 Caterina

 As I open my eyes and look up at the popcorn ceiling, the shock from my father’s confession still lingers.

 Gianni murdered Mom

 I didn’t expect to wake up with anything else on my mind after the revtion Dad dropped on mest night. It’s not something that’s easy to forget or move past.

 The whole situation makes no sense. Despite spending hours cleaning the housest night–trying to channel the restless energy after putting Dad to bed–1 couldn’t answer the most pressing question: Why?

 Why would nni want to kill my mom? She‘ asn’t anyone extraordinary–just an average person From what Dad told me. she had no connection to his world. They didn’t know each other, and Tatiana and I didn’t even meet until years after Mom passed away. I’m frustrated trying to find any connection that would make sense.

 My muscles ache as I sit up, stretching my arms over my head. I’m regretting trying to sleep since I spent most of the night tossing and turning, I might have had a few hours of restless nightmares about Mom–nightmares I hadn’t experienced before. Previously, my dreams of her were ordinary andforting, like cooking together or going shopping. They were never nightmares until now.

 Dad always said Mom died in a car ident when I was eight. At that age, I didn’t question his exnation. You don’t question parent when they’re your only remaining family, especially when they’re heartbroken themselves. If there was more to the story, he probably thought I was too young to handle it.

 Thirteen years </bter, he never mentioned she was murdered.

 I nce out the window and see his car still in the driveway. His bedroom door remains shut when I peek into the hall. He’s likely still in there, sleeping off his drunken state. Last night was the first time I saw him that intoxicated, barely able to stay awake and mumbling incoherently. I hope it was just nonsense.

 If it’s not, Gianni isn’t just the man I fell for–he’s the one who shattered my childhood and my father’s heart, altering our lives 

 forever

 And the worst part is, he lied. I can’t believe he’s been hiding this truth all along. Unless he’smitted so many crimes that he’s lost track of them, which is horrifying to consider. I shudder as I wash up and get dressed.

 I can’t go to work today. Even though I’ve already missed significant time, I can’t focus on anything but Dad and his confession.

 “I’m sorry,” I leave in a voicemail for Sam, while setting up my toiletries. “I thought I was ready to return, but I’m still too shaken. I can log in from my <bptop if you need me, but it might be best if I work from home today.” I doubt Mr. Adams expects me to work, but I want to offer. I’m aware of how precarious my simation is–I don’t want to be seen as a problem employee. 1 need to stay employed to eventually get my own ce and keep saving.

 I just can’t manage it today, especially since I still need to apply some makeup to cover the bruising from the ident that wasn’t an ident. It’s a good thing I woke up before Dad and got ready before he could see me. I can already picture his reaction

 -he’d never let me leave if he saw my face.

 I can’t help but feel guilty for lying to my boss as I go downstairs and head straight back to the kitchen. I don’t want him to regret hiring me. How was I supposed to know my life would implode around me? I didn’t choose any of this.

 to need There isn’t enough coffee in the world to make me feel human this morning, yet something tells me we are both going it. One thing I didn’t have the chance to dost night while putting the house back together was go out for groceries. It was toote, anyway. I would make breakfast if there were anything more than a few takeout containers and a quart of milk in the fridge. Something greasy to help with the way Dad’s going to feel this morning.

 This sight of the emply fridge is one more concern to tack on with the rest. This isn’t him. He spent years raising me by himself,

 38

 TZD DUNUD

 and we never had help in the house. When I was old enough, I started taking on some responsibilities, but it’s not like the man forgot how to go grocery shopping. I came home for <bst–minute visits during college and never found the house in disarray.

 Could it really be true? Could this be the big case he’s been working on, exhausting himself with? The case he was finally starting to break thest time we were together? And there I was, without the first clue what it was all about.

 I must be the worst daughter in the world, because as I fix a pot of coffee, I don’t know whether I want this to all be in his head or not. It’s sad but true. It might be better to think Dad is losing his grp on reality, for at least then it wouldn’t mean I’ve betrayed him, my mother, and myself by falling for Gianni. How could I be so selfish? Stupid? To think I was falling for the man who ripped my entire life to pieces

 I can’t even me Gianni for it, I walked into this knowing he was so good for me. Hell, that was half the fun.

 Footsteps overhead make my stomach flip and my pulse stutter, but I pull it together, sitting at the square kitchen table as I cautiously watch Dad shuffle into the room wearingst night’s clothes. “You weren’t a dream,” he murmurs with the ghost of a smile. There’s recognizable pain in his bloodshot eyes, but he leans down to brush a kiss over the top of my head anyway.

 “Nope. I’m here, live and in the flesh.”

 “I hardly remember youing inst night.” He opens the refrigerator door and winces when the light hits his eyes. I could’ve told him it was a waste of time.

 “1 helped you to bed.” I observe him from the corner of my eye while sipping my coffee, waiting for his memory to clear up. Wondering if he’ll remember the things he said.

 “I was wondering how I ended up there.” At least he’s not trying tough it off. There’s an appropriate amount of sheepishness in his voice. “I’m sorry you walked in on me like that.”

 When he reaches for a mug from the cab, he finally notices his surroundings. “Wait a second, did you clean the kitchen?” What was the first hint? Being able to see the bottom of the sink? No, the housecleaning fairy must’ve visited in the middle of the night,” I joke.

 “Honey, you didn’t have to do that.” He sinks into the chair across from me, groaning softly. “I shudder to think of all the questions you must have about how things have been going around here.”

 “Questions? Worries are more like it.”

 “I don’t need you worrying about your old man.” He takes a gulp of his coffee before setting the mug down, his hands trembling. “Things have been crazy at the station. Sometimes I barely have time to microwave a meal before going to bed. I don’t always notice when the dishes start to pile up.‘

 H

 Or the dust gets thicker, or the beer bottles line the counter. My teeth sink into my tongue before I can say something that will hurt his feelings. I don’t want to do that. No matter how irritated 1am, he either doesn’t rememberst night or doesn’t want to admit he does

 It’s like being with Gianni, in a way. Wondering if I can say what’s on my mind. If Dad indeed did torget what he said, what happens if talking about it reminds him? I could pretend it never happened, but I don’t know how long I could keep pretending This w

 will taint every aspect of our rtionship, no matter how hard I try to let it go. 

 His gaze lingers on the clock, and he takes another sip of coffee. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work by now?”

 “No, I’m taking the day off.” Oh, God, he doesn’t know anything about the ident or that I missed a week of work because of it. I keep forgetting. It’s like my life has be a web of lies and secrets. Keeping track of who knows what, what I can and can’t share, is a full–time job in itself.

 It’s not like I could tell him Luciano hit me with his car. It was hard enough to admit he cheated on me. This is considerably worse than that, and I know Dad would go after him for it. I can’t face that drama right now. Especially since Luciano is dead. An involuntary shudder rolls through me and I wipe a hand over my cheek without thinking It’s almost a surprise when my fingerse back blood–free. I’ll never forget how warm the ssh of blood across my face was before he fell over my legs. 

 – of me. I hope. I’m fine “Wow, and I thought I was a busy liar. Maybe it’s the hangover he’s clearly fighting

 against. The fact that he seems to be hungover gives me a little bit of hope, strangely enough. He’s not too far gone if his body still teacts this way to too much alcohol.

 “Actually, in case you missed it, I brought bags with mest night was thinking about spending a little time here. Not officially moving in but staying for a bit, if it’s okay with you?”

 It’s almost miraculous, the change thates over him. A grin splits his face, and the worry creases on his forehead be smaller. “You know nothing would make me happier. I’ve wanted you home since the day you left.” He’s not lying. “However, I hope this doesn’t mean you’re having trouble ”

 Funny you should mention that I came here because I was running away from the man you think widowed you. Yes, that’s precisely the sort of conversation we need to have at the breakfast ble. Or ever.

 Time to break out the excuse I had prepared. “Things weren’t going so well with my sublet. I have to start looking for a new ce, but in the meantime I figured I’d crash here.”

 “Or you could always stay here, with your old man.” He winks before pushing his chair back and going for another cup of coffee. “I wouldn’t charge you rent, even when you have that fancy job that pays you so well.”

 A fancy job I sincerely hope I still have by the time my life returns to normal.

 If my life returns to normal.

 38.1

 He’s obviously not going to say anything about Mom, and I haven’t built up enough courage to. That’s a can of worms I don’t * feel like cracking open.

 It’ll lead to so many other questions, too. Like why he never told me how Mom actually died. Would he bother to tell me the details now? Or am I still too young to know?

 The aggravation these questions stir in my head gets me out of my chair. “I’m going to unpack my things, since I was too busy around herest night to do it then.” I make a big deal about leaning in and giving him a sniff in passing before waving a hand in front of my face. “Maybe you should take a shower, Detective. How are you supposed to sneak up on the bad guys when they can smell you from a mile away?”

 “Very nice,” he grumbles wryly while shooing me away. “That’s exactly where I nned on going.” Good. Maybe he can soak his head under some cold water for a while and start thinking clearly.

 It’s better to be away from him, upstairs in my old room with all the certificates and awards on the wall. I always did like getting a gold star, which is probably why I would be drawn to a man like nni. He goes against everything I’m supposed to be, everything I imagined for my life back when I was a kid getting an award for never missing a day of school. I was always a good girl, except I’m tired of always doing the right thing I want to rebel against the person I used to be. The one who was never really seen.

 For as long as I can remember, before I knew the specifics of his life and work, I sensed an aura of danger around him. Even now, I can’t put my finger on it. The particr light in his eyes; the way he carries himself. He could change the temperature in the room with a single look. He has the power with just the lift of an eyebrow or the tip of his head to the side, and everyone around him falls in line. There’s something sexy about that. It draws me to him.

 And look where that got me. I should have been less concerned with perfect attendance and more concerned with learning how to read people. I’ve made so many mistakes

 I’m probably making one now, filling the dresser drawers with my clothes in the house I swore I’d never move back into. My heavy heart is dragging me down. Already, I miss Gianni so much it hurts–and I hate myself even more for it since he doesn’t deserve my heartache.

 That doesn’t stop me from grasping at straws, frantic to exin away Dad’s beliefs. I can’t imagine how he cove right Gianni never does anything without a motive; there can’t be one. My mom, the woman smiling at me from a framed photo on the dresser, couldn’t have done anything to put herself in his crosshairs. She was good, pure, and devoted to us.

 The alternative is Dad driving himself crazy trying to solve what could’ve been a simple car crash. Notforting. And if I ask him for specifics, he won’t give them up, if only because of my friendship with Tatiana.

 I wish I could trust either of the men in my life to give me the whole truth. I’m sick of never knowing who to believe, whether I’m being manipted–for good reasons or otherwise. I sag down onto the bed and stare up at the ceiling. I’m tired of being in the dark, tired of allowing myself to be led astray. If I want answers there might be only one way to get them. I might have to dig for the truth on my own

17kNovel

Novel Straight 38