White Lies (Lost Kings MC 15)
Page 59
She snorts again. “I should tell her the actual truth. You were a better father to her from the first day you held her—”
I’ve rarely heard my father angry. “Don’t you dare,” he says in a harsher voice than he normally uses with my mother. “That’s not fair. He was a kid. He might’ve worked things out. Figured out how to be a father when she was older. You don’t know.”
“Yeah, well, I was a kid, too, and I figured it out. I’m sorry, it’s not fair to you—”
“I’m fine. Don’t taint the few things she knows of him with your anger. I can handle a few questions from our daughter.”
Our
daughter. Dad’s never, ever made me feel different or out of place. He adopted me when I was little just so I’d have his last name, and everyone knew I was his. Dad loves me as much as he loves my little sister and brother. I’ve never doubted it.
Tears sting my eyes. Now I feel bad for all the times over the years I’ve asked him about my bio-father. But it was only because no one else would answer my questions. Mom would clam up. Uncle Teller would get pissed. Aunt Hope would get teary-eyed. Uncle Rock just told me, “He was a good kid.” Uncle Wrath would only shrug, and he usually has an opinion on everything.
Dad told me the truth. Or at least the good parts of the truth from the sounds of it. It probably hurt him every time.
I have the urge to run downstairs and hug him.
“What are you doing?” Bit-bit whispers behind me, startling me out of my thoughts. Whisper-quiet, she sits on the stair beside me and tucks her knees under her chin.
“Nothing.”
“Liar. Snooping? Trying to figure out if you’re getting a car for your birthday?”
If only. Mom’s made it clear I’ll need to earn a car. “No.”
“Oh, by the way, she wants to learn to ride, so she can prospect for the club.” Dad informs Mom with an amused chuckle.
“What?”
“I told her to talk to you about that.”
Mom lets out a soft laugh. “I already know how that conversation’s going to go.”
Dad chuckles. Then they’re quiet. Silent, except for some kissey-face noises.
Bit-bit scrunches up her nose. “Ew, let’s go.”
“I’m telling,” Connor whispers from above us.
Bit-bit and I turn to find our annoying little brother peeking around the corner.
“Mind your own business,” I whisper back.
Bit-bit sticks out her tongue, which Connor returns.
“What are the three of you still doing up?” Dad’s voice rumbles from below.
We turn, and he’s standing at the bottom of the stairs with his hands on his hips glaring at the three of us. His mouth twitches, a signal he’s more entertained than angry.
“They woke me up,” Connor shouts.
“Did not,” Bit-bit shoots back.
“Enough!” Mom hollers. “If the three of you aren’t in bed by the time I count to ten, you can kiss Six Flags goodbye.”
“But Mom,” Connor whines.
I roll my eyes. I couldn’t care less about going to Six Flags. We go every year, and it’s lame.
“Fine. I’ll let your cousins know you’re not coming. Grace, Chance, Ivy, Ivan, and Raven will all get to go without you.”
“Nooo.” Bit-bit pouts.
“One—”
“Grace and I don’t want to go anyway,” I say.
“That’s good. You two can stay behind and help me wash all the bikes,” Dad answers. “Rock will be fine with that.”
“Two,” Mom continues.
Bit-bit and Connor scurry back to their rooms.
“Alexa?” Mom’s tone hovers somewhere between concern and exasperation.
I wrap my arms around my legs and glare at her.
Her shoulders drop, and she motions me downstairs. “Come here.”
When I reach her, she brushes my hair out of my face and cups my cheek. “What’s wrong, honey?”
The fight drains out of me, but I don’t know how to answer.
So, I accept her comforting hug and soothing words instead.
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