Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
As I said—the pressure is on.
Anyone else would probably tell their dad to take a hike all the way to Dante’s seventh circle of hell. I turned eighteen in February, so it’s not like I need his permission to apply to the Academy. But I have this intense sense of responsibility. Leftovers from being the Good Kid.
Knight’s addiction nearly ruined this family. Mom dying buried it under rubble of suffocating depression.
I’m not gonna be the one to deliver the final blow. Knight begged me not to apply. And my inclination is to put my happiness behind Dad’s, even if it kills me.
Knight would murder me, then resurrect me just to murder me again if I tell Dad I’m thinking of applying, never mind actually applying, so I decide to change the subject. “Knight and I vote you start dating again.”
“Oh yeah?” Dad slaps his newspaper open with a deep frown and decides to let the military stuff rest, for now. “Well, I vote you stay out of my business. In fact, I veto that shit.”
“It’s cool if you move on. Mom would be pissed if she knew you were sitting here regrowing your hymen.”
“That’s not… Wait, what are they teaching you in sex ed?” He scowls.
I toss a grape into my mouth. “You mean, other than the Pop Rocks blow-job trick?”
Dad laughs and picks up his paper again. “Mom’s not here to bitch-slap me for regrowing my hymen, so unless you know a medium to contact her in heaven, no harm done.”
“Don’t you want to have sex again? Go on dates? I dunno, live?”
He shakes his head. “Living is an invitation people without jobs made to justify their existence.”
“Be serious for a sec,” I groan.
Dad lowers the Financial Times and glares at me with annoyance. “Look, this is probably a terrible life lesson to pass on to your kids, but it’s not gonna happen, okay? I’m not gonna magically get over Rosie LeBlanc. I’m never getting over her, I’m never moving on. There won’t be a second chapter because the minute I met this woman, my epilogue was already written. I’ve accepted my fate and find my pleasures elsewhere. I have you. Knight. Cayden. Football. Plenty of friends. I have big family vacations. I love my job. Taking it one day at a time is manageable for me.”
“I’m going to move out at the end of the year when I graduate,” I remind him. Just the thought of going off to some college to break my back playing ball makes me wanna punch my own face.
“I know.” He works his jaw, touching it like I slapped him with my words. “I’ll survive.”
“Look.” I sit back, huffing. “You can cut the crap. I know Dixie spent the night here. I saw her taking off this morning. Knight and I are happy you’re getting some.”
Dad chokes on his chia seed pudding, grabs his coffee—four shots of dark roast, basically tar with some Stevia—pops the lid, and chugs it. “You think I’m hooking up with Dix?”
“Why else would she spend the night?” I fold my arms over my chest. “And can you please stop calling her that? Every time you do, I imagine a bouquet of cocks squeezed together into a pencil skirt.”
“First of all—great imagery.” Dad wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Really selling me the whole Dixie idea. Second of all, dating is not on the menu for me.”
“You messing around with her?” I eyeball him, surprised. “Look, if you wanna play the field, maybe don’t do it with your best female friend? Kind of a fuckboy move. I’ll introduce you to Tinder. It’s a—”
“Sit down, boy. I ruled Tinder when you were still swimming in my nuts.” Dad balls a napkin and tosses it at me. “I’m a widower, not a boomer. And I’m not fucking Dix…Dixie. Or anyone else for that matter.”
“What about self-love?”
“Rarely,” he grumbles into his food.
“Dude, you have no sperm circulation. Your spunk must be so stale.”
He cocks his head, frowning. “You do look a little crusty.”
“I am getting emancipated,” I gag dramatically.
He reaches to steal my coffee, and I’d be mad if I wasn’t sad for him. No sex for four years straight sounds brutal. “Dixie stayed here because her apartment is getting repainted. She’s selling it. She’ll be crashing here tonight too. Tomorrow she goes back to her place. Where she belongs.”
“Don’t you like her?” I press.
“Love her.” Dad takes big bites of his food to keep his mouth full. “I also like this chia pudding, and I don’t wanna fuck it.”
“The temperature’s a little off-putting,” I agree.
He doesn’t say anything.
I sigh. “Gotta be honest, I’m disappointed.”
“Why?”
I don’t want to make it even more cringy for him. He’s allowed to lead his life in whichever path he chooses, even if it’s straight to the arms of blue balls, so I lighten the mood by slumping my shoulders. “I just…”