Kiss To Forget (Blairwood University #2) - Anna B. Doe Page 0,99

will be.

Yasmin grabs my hand. My head snaps up, my gaze focusing on her. Only her. And it’s only then that I remember to breathe again.

I’m here, she mouths. You’ve got this.

I don’t, but with her next to me, I think I might just get through this in one battered piece.

I’m about to nod when the door opens once again. Spinning around, I stop dead in my tracks when I see the person standing in the doorway.

What the hell is he doing here?

The rage that I’ve been pushing back comes out front and center. My hands clench by my side in tight fists.

“Excuse me,” I say through clenched teeth and storm toward him. I can hear Yasmin calling my name from behind me, but I ignore her. Not even she can stop what’s about to happen.

“Nixon,” he says, opening his arms for a hug.

A fucking hug.

Like nothing has happened. Like he hadn’t walked out on us more than three months ago, letting us deal with our mother dying all on our own. Like he hasn’t been MIA all this time, not once bothering to call or text, or hell, even send a letter by pigeon or some shit.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss at him.

“Is that a way to greet your father?” His hands fall down by his sides, his smile faltering. How can he smile? His wife of over twenty years is fucking dead, lying in a coffin, mere feet away from us.

“Some fucking nerve you have,” I whisper quietly, closing in on him.

Who the hell is this man? I thought I knew my father, but the man I knew, the man I loved and admired all my life wouldn’t have done something like this. He wouldn’t have left.

“Coming here now, after all this time.”

People start whispering, and I’m sure I can even hear a gasp from somewhere behind me.

“Nixon.” A hand wraps around my arm, pulling me a step back. “You don’t want to do this here.”

“Oh, I most certainly do.” I try to move closer to my dad, but Hayden holds me tight. I can hear the sound of more footsteps nearing as they echo against the marble floors.

Dad, if he can even be called that, runs his hands through his hair. For a man who’s always prided himself in looking his best he looks completely disheveled. His hair is a greasy mess, and a few days’ stubble covers his jaw. His suit and shirt are wrinkled, tie loosened around his neck, buttons undone.

Good, the bastard deserves it for all he put us through.

“It’s not what you think. I—”

“Oh, it’s not?” I move even closer, so close our noses are practically touching. I have a couple of inches on him, and I use them to my advantage. “You didn’t leave us just as shit got rough and left us to deal with it on our own? You haven’t been absent for months, with no words whatsoever so that we can know you’re at least alive? You’ve called Mom or Jade to ask if they’re okay or need something?”

Each question is accentuated with a stab of my finger in the middle of his chest, forcing him to fall back until his back hits the door.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” he snaps loudly.

For the first time, I notice that the room is so quiet you can practically hear a pin drop. He must notice it too because he takes a deep breath as if to calm himself. That’s one of us. I’m fuming, and there is finally somebody I can direct my anger at. “You wouldn’t understand. I couldn’t do this again. I couldn’t watch the love of my life…”

This time I laugh. “That’s rich. The love of your life? Where were you when she was dying from cancer these last few months, huh? Where were you, dammit?”

I grab him by his rumpled shirt and lift him off the ground. He protests and tries to wiggle out of my hold, but the only way he’ll do that is if I let go.

“Nixon.” A hand grabs my arm and tugs. I’m so overcome with rage it takes me a moment to realize the person pulling me back is Yasmin. Her voice is soft, but there’s nothing soft about the way her fingers dig into my skin.

“Don’t do this,” she pleads. Her fingers brush against my jaw, drawing my attention to her. My resolve crumples to the ground slowly but surely the longer I look at