Kodie’s grip on my hand gets tighter, and the sick feeling gets worse. There is a solid chance that I might vomit on him before I manage to get a word out.
We’ve barely said a word to each other during the drive, and Iknow it’s because Kodie is freaking out as much as I am. He doesn’t want to show it, but he is. If Dad takes this badly, his entire life will be thrown into chaos.
The second we turn into the driveway, every muscle in my body tenses at the sight of his car sitting there.
He’s home.
At least if he were out, there’d be a chance he wouldn’t have seen the pictures circling the internet.
I haven’t looked, but I know for a fact that the hot new gossip about Kodie Rivers isn’t restricted to one site. It’ll be going viral right as we speak.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Kodie says, killing the engine and reaching for his door handle without taking another second to think about it.
“No,” I cry, making him twist back to look at me. “No, can I just…I need to go in there alone first.”
“Casey," he warns.
“Please, Kodie. I need?—”
I don’t know what he sees in my eyes or in my expression, but he cuts me off in agreement.
“Thank you. I’ll message you.”
His jaw tics as his eyes search my face, silently begging me not to do this.
But I need to. It’s been Dad and me against the world for so long. It’s important I find the courage to do this alone.
“Okay,” I say, sucking in a deep breath through my nose and then out through my mouth. “I can do this.”
I push the door open, one of the only times I’ve ever done that in Kodie’s car, and step out.
“I love you, Casey. Don’t forget that.”
“Impossible. I love you, too.”
Before I talk myself out of it, I slam his door closed and march toward the house.
My entire body trembles as adrenaline shoots through my veins, but nowhere is it more noticeable than in my hand as I reach out to knock in warning and then open the door.
“Hey, Dad,” I call out, my voice breaking. Even if he hasn’talready seen, he’s going to take one look at me and know something is wrong. “It’s just me.”
I head for the kitchen first when I don’t get a response, and my steps falter when I find him sitting at the island with his phone before him on the counter, his eyes immediately on mine.
“H-hey, how are you?”
He quirks a brow.
He knows.
Holy shit. He knows.
I attempt to discreetly shake my arms at my sides as if it’ll help dispel some of my nerves.
“So…um…I’vegotsomethingtotellyou,” I say in a rush.
“Go on,” he says, his voice firm and cold.
Oh god. He hates me.
