The Mixtape

“Why would I tell you anything? We don’t speak. Besides, Samantha is fine.”

“No, she isn’t,” I said, shaking my head. Nothing about the situation felt right, and I couldn’t believe that Sammie was okay after everything she’d been through. “She can’t be okay if she’s back in this town.”

“You watch your tongue, talking about my daughter,” Dad cut in.

Same ol’ Dad.

I’m your daughter too.

“Why? It’s true, and you both know it. She can’t be okay after what she went through.”

“That’s why we take care of her. That’s why we see her, because that’s our baby. She came to us when she needed us. Not that any of that is your business.”

I stood flabbergasted by the words that were leaving Mama’s mouth. “You’re insane if you think—”

I flinched the moment Dad’s hand landed against my forearm and he held on tight. His dark eyes locked with mine, and I swore I felt a darkness race over me. “Don’t you dare talk to your mother like that,” he scolded as he squeezed my arm.

My mouth parted as my body began to shake uncontrollably from his grip. “Let me go,” I ordered, even though my voice shook as the words left me. It was no secret that even to that day, I was afraid of my father.

He held on tighter, and I cringed from the pain. “Apologize to your mother.”

Mama’s eyes softened for a split second as she looked down at his grip on me. “Okay, Theo, I think that’s enough.”

Dad squeezed harder. I gasped.

Mama placed her hand against his and shook her head. “Let her go, Theo.”

“Stay out of this, Harper,” he ordered. The hatred that painted his eyes terrified me. “Apologize for speaking to her like that.”

“What?” I cried. “No.”

Harder.

“Apologize,” he commanded.

The pain shot up my arm, and I was almost to the point where tears were ready to release from my eyes, but I didn’t want to cry in front of him. For some reason, I felt that if he saw me weak, he’d feel strong.

“What the hell are you doing?” a voice barked. I looked over my shoulder to see Oliver standing there, with Reese beside him. He marched directly toward my father and ripped his hold from me. “Don’t ever put your hand on her.”

Dad stood tall, but unlike me, Oliver didn’t shiver with fear. He stood eye to eye with the man who’d raised me and stepped in front of me, protecting me from the first man who was supposed to be my protector.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Dad snarled, fury sitting against his face. His hands were rolled in fists.

“Someone who will never watch a man put his hands on a woman and do nothing about it. If you ever touch Emery again, it will be the end of you,” Oliver said, cold as stone.

“You don’t know the person you’re defending,” Dad said with spite.

“You think you have the right to put your hands on a woman? Any woman? Why, because they’re smaller than you? Because they make you feel big? Come on, then. Do it to me. See what happens,” Oliver ordered, stepping straight into Dad’s space. “Show me what a tough guy you are.”

“Oliver,” I said, placing a hand against his arm. “Let’s go.”

His stance was firm, and he didn’t seem to be stepping down, so I pushed between him and my father and looked Oliver in the eyes. “Hey, right here.”

He lowered his head to make eye contact with me, and the fire that swam in his stare softened once he was staring my way. “Let’s go. Please.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he nodded slightly.

Reese looked as if she was confused and horrified all at once. I hated that fear that she was feeling. I rushed over to her and lifted her into my arms. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

She curled into me, and I held on tighter than ever.

“That’s right. You need to get to leaving,” Dad said, trying to be strong, but I swore when Oliver stepped up to him, I saw something I’d never seen in my life—I saw Dad flinch.

I felt defeated as I looked toward him and asked him the one question that had been sitting on my mind almost my whole life. “Why do you hate me?” I whispered, sounding like the hurt child I used to be.

Without hesitation, he blinked once and answered. “Because you’ve always been a disappointment.”

My heart.

It shattered.

“Let’s go,” Oliver softly spoke, placing a hand on my lower back.

I looked toward my parents and wanted to say so much, yet nothing was strong enough to leave my lips; instead, I turned on my heel and began to walk away.

“You okay, Mama?” Reese asked, wiping away the tears that fell down my cheek.

“Yes, baby, I’m okay.”

“She shouldn’t be calling you her mother,” Mama called out, but I kept walking, even though her words felt like stabs to my soul. “She’s not yours,” she said, making every inch of my body shake with heartbreak. How could she say something so harsh? How could she be so cruel?