Loner by Harloe Rae Page 0,7
me. I narrow my gaze, pinning him with the fire burning inside of me. “Heard from my mom lately?”
My father curls his hands into fists. “How dare you bring her up.”
That’s rich, coming from him. My mother is his biggest failure, and greatest point of weakness. Maybe the only one he’s somewhat willing to admit exists. I’d almost sympathize if he didn’t continue tossing Grant in my face. She’s the main reason his hate for me boils so hot. I rock back on my heels. “Seems only fair.”
“There’s zero comparison.”
He earns a low snort for that. “Mom cheated on you. Grant abandoned me. Pretty damn close, if you ask me.”
My dad points a blunt finger in my direction. “I sure as shit wasn’t looking for your opinion when I drove all the way to this sinkhole. You’re going nowhere fast, Crawford.”
A pit opens up in my gut, churning until acid burns my tongue. His words hit a bit too hard. “Because you’re a prime example of how to be? Stay at the office more nights than not. Never bothering to be present except for barking demands. It’s no wonder mom left you.”
His waxy skin explodes with a mottled red hue, exposing his rage with bursting capillaries. “Take a look in the fucking mirror, Crawford.”
“I’ve come to terms with my reflection. Not sure I can say the same for you.”
“Well, go fucking figure. Turning this back on me.”
I pat my chest. “Learned from the best, pops.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “We’re nothing alike. You’ve always been alone, son. No one wants to be around you. That’s why you built this tin shed on the edge of town.”
I stride backward, more than done with this conversation. “Thanks for the trip down memory lane. It’s much appreciated.”
My father begins following me. “This isn’t over.”
I grip onto the door leading to my office. The metal creaks under my unforgiving hold. “It most certainly is. Always a pleasure catching up with you, Dad. Feel free to fuck off and show yourself out.”
The resounding bang of the metal barrier now separating us is the most gratifying farewell this moment can offer.
Healing Hug #4: A saving grace reaching forward in the darkest moments.
A smooth beat croons through the speakers, singing about finding love after all else is lost. I tap my foot on the floorboard while humming along to the swoony tune. The chorus belts out a line about giving him a second glance. I almost roll my eyes at the irony. But hell, it’s a catchy song. Maybe Josey’s outrageous suggestion isn’t that farfetched.
Before I can give those thoughts more air time, a deafening pop bursts my serene bubble. The vehicle jolts and swerves at a sharp diagonal to the left. A yelp trips off my lips as warning sensors begin beeping at me. I clutch onto the wheel with a shaky grip, fighting to regain control while veering back into my lane. Thankfully, no one else is on the road. A band of bass drums boom against my ribcage, the potential of full-blown panic looming near.
“What’s wrong, Mama?”
I swallow down a silent scream, smoothing my features for Millie’s sake. “Not sure, sweetie. Probably a flat tire.”
As if on cue, the slap of loose rubber echoes against the asphalt. Burning tar stings my nostrils, providing me with another alert I didn’t need. This can’t be happening. But it most definitely is.
Dammit. Shit. Fuck.
I bite back the string of curses. This is what I get for letting men enter my mind. While attempting to maintain some level of finesse, I slowly pull over onto the shoulder. My car bumps across the gravel, rocking to a stop. I swear the old sedan moans with relief. There’s no denying the uneven tilt, favoring the front passenger side. After switching on the flashers, I bump my head against the seat and groan.
“Are we stuck?” Millie’s voice has a quivering edge that rips at my crumbling facade.
I peer at my daughter through the rearview mirror. With great effort, I muster a wobbly smile. “We’ll be okay, baby girl.”
“Is the car broken?”
“Only a little ouch.”
Her head tilts to the side. “But a Band-Aid won’t fit.”
I laugh. “You’re right about that. Good observation.”
“Who’s gonna save us?” Her gaze is focused out the window. Endless Wyoming prairie land expands in each direction. The concern in her voice might be warranted, but I’m not ready to wave a white flag.
“We don’t need rescuing, Mills. There’s a spare in the trunk.” Fingers freaking crossed. “Just