The Life: Sacrifice (The Life 3)

I pretty much know where her head is at because I listen to her when she rants, letting her get it all out. Her grandmother has already been warned by me to get her a therapist once the dust settles. I’d had to tell her a little bit about my plans without divulging too much because I need her to take care of Gianna when I’m gone.

It would’ve been nice if she could stay with my family, but that’s not possible, not if I want to make a clean break. “Where did you go in your head again?” How is it possible for her to know me this well when no one else does? She always seems to know when I wander in my mind, something I find enthralling and worrisome at the same time.

That jackass Lance keeps hinting at her being my soulmate, but I know he has an agenda, so I pay him no mind. Speaking of which, he should be here any minute. Pop claims he’s coming along as an escort for one of the twins, which I’m sure has some truth to it, but I’m almost certain he’s my watcher on this trip. They never learn.

GABRIEL

I thought it best to give Fontane a call and let him know we were coming. He’s been living in the bottom of a bottle the last two weeks. This visit was as much for him as it was her; even though he didn’t know I knew it, he should at least get to say goodbye. I may have overshot this one as well because she was visibly shocked by his appearance.

He looked gaunt as if he’d lost weight since the last time we saw him, and there was a sadness in his eyes that I personally thought was too little too late, but that’s just me. She’s his kid, and as much of an ass as she knows he is, I could understand how his appearance rocked her a little.

I guess I was here for myself as well to some extent. Maybe it was my last shot at giving him a chance to be some type of father to his daughter and not the selfish prick he’s always been. I’m still not sure where we landed on that scale. First, he answered the door looking like a lost puppy.

His conversation was disjointed at best, with a little bit of woe is me thrown in for good measure. At some point, he caught my glare and must’ve realized he was two seconds away from catching my foot in his ass because he snapped out of it. I’m not sure that was much better because he seemed to remember that this might be the last time they see each other under these circumstances, and that seemed to sober him up.

But now, instead of woebegone, he was almost close to sobbing. He kept apologizing to her over and over, but not in an ‘I’ll do better’ kind of way, but more of an ‘I can’t change it anyway, so you might be better off without me in your life,’ skirting pretty close to letting her know that he was about to do something stupid.

I hadn’t forgotten that she asked me what he’d meant the last time when he talked about getting his balls back and doing something about what had been done to her, so I knew where her thoughts went immediately. “Gianna, can you get me some water, please?”

I kept my voice neutral so as not to spook her even smiled. But as soon as she left, I turned my ire on him. “Are you a complete ass?” My tone shook him up, and he looked at me like he was coming out of a daze.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you hinting at some off-colored shit in front of her? Do you want her to feel sorry for you? Do you not yet realize that you’re in the wrong here? That nothing was done to you, but everything was done to her on your watch?”

“I’m not trying to do that.”

“Yes, you are. I don’t give a fuck how sorry you feel for yourself or what you’re going through. When she gets back in this room, you’re going to act like you’re happy for her for once in your worthless ass life. After that, you can do whatever the hell you want. Got me?”

I guess a teenager talking to him like that cut through the alcohol haze, and he took umbrage; like I give a shit. He had the good sense to get his shit together when she came back and spent the next half an hour talking to her about the trip and what fun she was going to have and how happy he was that she was going to get to do something her mom would’ve wanted.