My mother drove up to the curb and waved.
“I’ll do this,” I said, “because Mom needs a break. But don’t think you can walk back into my life and change whatever you want.”
He glanced around, making sure no one was listening. “I know you’re angry I’ve been gone.”
“I’m not angry, Daddy. It just is what it is. We’ve moved on. I’m not the same girl you left all those years ago.”
I kept my eyes on my father, knowing he’d just manipulated his way back in my life. I bit back the fear it gave me, the anxiety blossoming in my chest.
“A girl needs her father,” he said, watching me walk to the car. I sat in the front seat and clarity hit me like a bolt of lightning.
My father wasn’t here just for work, to build the church. No, he was back in our lives, and I had the feeling it would be harder than ever to escape him a second time.
4
Two Months Later
After a relatively quiet summer and acclimating to college life, the campus changed drastically with the fall semester. The students returned in droves, the quiet halls turned into echo chambers of laughter, shouts, and roommate squabbles. So far though, college had given
me the taste of personal freedom I’d been looking for. No curfew. No suddenly returning fathers. And no checkered past. Amber and I still got along well (other than a brief fight over who ate the last Oreo—it was Jackson) and our other suitemates seemed…okay.
“So, the guys are headed over to a party at Hayden’s frat house after workouts,” Jackson said, running his nose along the column of my neck. Chills ran down every inch of my body and it took everything in me not to drag him through the common area and back to my room.
The best I managed was fisting my hands in his shirt and croaking, “Yeah?”
“You and Amber are welcome to come.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You know I’m not really a party-goer.”
“You may not like parties, Heav, but parties definitely like you.”
Two girls passed us in the hallway, their eyes skimming Jackson’s lanky frame. My father may have signed me up for an all-female dorm, but men were allowed in before curfew.
I cut my eyes at them in warning and they both looked away.
He noticed and laughed against my neck. “I love it when you’re possessive.”
“Yeah? I’ve had to work quadruple time for the last two months. I’m about to tag you all with a tattoo.”
“Property of Heaven Reeves.” He licked his bottom lip. “I like it. But it seems like it goes against our ‘no public declarations’ agreement.”
Fuck that agreement, I wanted to say, but I stepped back instead. I hated that we had to hide our relationship in an environment where hook-ups and sexual experimentation was the norm. None of them had John Reeves, Oceanside Community Church Associate Minister, as their dad.
My father had been fairly MIA since I’d arrived. Just a few phone calls and texts. He’d moved back down to Oceanside to start his job of saving souls and bilking his congregation. He seemed busy, which was good. Less time for him to keep track of me.
Jackson’s phone chimed—most likely Oliver in warning about their training session that started in fifteen minutes.
“Meet you guys around nine?”
“I’ll ask Amber if she wants to go.”
He nodded and gave me a quick kiss. Jackson, out of the four, was the biggest fan of PDA. Everything about him dripped of sexy confidence and it definitely made him hard to resist despite our agreements otherwise.
“So how long have you two been dating?” Ruthie asked after I caught my breath and came back in the room. She’s a short girl with curvy hips and fiery red hair. She had a way of carrying herself that made me feel immature and consistently underdressed. Her side of the suite is covered in fashion magazine photos and supermodels. Whereas mine was a montage of photos from back home, movie posters, and Hayden’s artwork. Needless to say, we didn’t have a lot in common.
Amber and I shared a look. I might be a chicken but I just wasn’t ready to tell them about my relationship status. For the first time in a year, I felt the freedom of not having everyone know all of my business. “A while.”
“He’s hot.” She looked up from her magazine. I couldn’t help but stare at her acrylic nails and how she looked like an insect while flipping through the pages. “What about his friend? The one in the baseball shirt. I saw him with you guys in the coffee shop.”