Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Yup.” I can barely get that one syllable out, my throat is so tight with anger. “The card is connected to my trust account, and Dad has access to that. I’m used to him checking up on what I’m spending money on, but this…this is bullshit.” I blow out a harsh breath. “What the fuck is wrong with him? He’s breathing down my neck, for one. And I never promised to do that internship. So he’s just perusing my credit card on a Friday night, connecting the dots on my life?”
“It’s certainly intrusive,” Luke agrees.
“Shit, and knowing him he’ll reach out to Annika, too. And she’s dating somebody else. She’ll probably be humiliated.”
“Oh come on, he wouldn’t really do that, would he?”
I drop my ass back on the bed. I scrub my face with my hands, moaning in aggravation. “That is absolutely something he would do, and has done. I mean, we’re talking about the man who sent gift cards to every single member of his son’s fraternity to win votes. I can’t deal with this anymore, Bailey. He’s my father, and I love him, but holy fuck do I need him to just leave me alone.”
“Then tell him.”
With a wry smile, I lift my head. “Really. You want me to tell my father to leave me alone. Solid plan.”
Luke sits up too, coming up behind me on his knees. To my shock, he curls his fingers over my shoulders and begins kneading my tense flesh. “Christ, you’re stiff as a board. Breathe, Hayworth.”
I breathe, but it does nothing to diffuse the hostility I’m feeling. “I can’t stand it anymore,” I repeat.
“Then tell him,” Luke repeats.
Laughter sputters out. “Stop saying that.”
“No.” He massages a knot of tension between my shoulder blades. His hands are strong, rough. They feel like heaven. “Because that’s exactly what you need to do—tell him how you feel.”
“I have,” I protest. “He doesn’t listen.”
“Then make him listen.” Luke’s thumbs continue working on that stubborn knot. “As someone who’s quite skilled at dealing with toxic parents, I promise you, the only way to save your sanity is to set clear boundaries. I could’ve continued living at home after Joe got out of prison—it would’ve been hella cheaper and saved me so much stress. But my mental wellbeing was more important. I made it clear to my mother that I wasn’t going to be dragged down by her or Joe any longer. Yeah, I throw money her way sometimes, but that’s only because I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing her heat is shut off. But I’m trying hard not to enable her bad behavior anymore, and I definitely don’t tolerate the narcissistic bullshit she tries to manipulate me with.”
I stay quiet, because I’m terrified he’ll stop talking if I say something. This is the first time he’s spoken at length about his family. No, about his feelings. Luke Bailey doesn’t share.
“But I get that it’s hard. When I give her an inch, Mom still uses me shamelessly,” he says gruffly. “She always has. Joe was her favorite, but we all knew that kid was going nowhere. Me, on the other hand—I was smart, ambitious, motivated. I was working two jobs by the time I was fifteen. She knew which son was going to be her meal ticket, and she used every trick in the book to guilt me into giving her whatever she wanted.”
I raise a hand to cover his on my shoulder. I caress his hand, and he traps mine there with his thumb.
“So yeah,” he finishes. “It’s not easy. But I’m really trying not to enable her anymore. And that’s what you’re doing with your dad—you let him get away with his bad behavior, and as long as you keep letting shit slide, he’ll keep doing it.”
I gulp down the lump in my throat. “So what do you suggest I say? Because I’ve tried asking him to back off, and it hasn’t worked.”
Luke kisses the back of my neck. “Yeah, you’ve asked. And what I’m telling you to do is tell him. This is your life, not his. He doesn’t get a say in what you choose to do with it. That means you can’t let him bully you into stuff anymore—running for frat president, this finance internship that—no offense—you are going to suck at.”
“No offense taken,” I mutter. “I hate business, and I particularly hate finance.”
“Exactly, and you need to be firm about that. Draw your line in the sand, babe. When we get back to school, you need to phone him up and say, ‘Dad, this is how it is. I’m not interning at your company this summer. I’m going to Chile to play with Shamu—’”
I snicker. And I wonder if he realizes he just called me babe. But I don’t mention it, because it’d probably send him into a panic again.