I waited for him to get in, hoping he wouldn’t put up a fight in the parking lot of Lowe’s, and breathed a sigh of relief when he angrily stomped around to the passenger door and got in.
“I hate when you don’t let me drive,” he growled.
“You have a suspended license,” I pointed out. “You’re not driving my car and getting me in trouble. You shouldn’t have even been driving your stepdaughter’s car. You could’ve had the thing impounded.”
Something I would know.
I’d let him borrow my car thinking that his license wasn’t suspended but just expired. Only, I’d found out differently when I had to pay five hundred bucks to get my car out of the impound lot at DPD—Dallas Police Department—when my dad had been pulled over for reckless driving.
Again.
Dad had anger issues. Those anger issues caused him to drive like an asshole.
Eventually, those issues caused him to get tickets one too many times for a judge’s liking, and his license had been revoked.
Now, he still drove, but he was a hell of a lot more careful about getting caught being a jerk.
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Dad grumbled.
I ignored him and drove him to his new place—a fancy number in a fancy part of Frisco.
When we got there, he said, “Want to come in?”
I ignored his question because my attention had been caught by something much better.
My ocean-eyed future husband.
He was angrily arguing with Elizabeth, gesturing toward her with a pointed finger.
Dad got out and headed for the front steps of his house, launching into a slew of expletives as he did.
I stayed in my car and listened.
“What the fuck was that, Webb?” my dad bellowed. “How did you expect me to get home?”
“Webb,” better known as Webber, turned his angry-eyed gaze toward my father and said, “One, you don’t have a license to be driving any car. Two, this is my daughter’s car, that I bought her, so no one but me and her will be driving it. Three, if I catch you driving her car again, I’ll fucking kick your ass, and I don’t care who sees. Do you understand me?”
My gaze went to Elizabeth, who was sneering at my future husband.
“You’re grounded, Eedie,” Elizabeth declared. “Go to your room. No phone or electronics.”
“What?” Eedie cried out. “Why?”
“Because you don’t know the term loyalty,” Elizabeth snapped. “Now go.”
Webber didn’t say anything until Eedie was gone, but he let it rip when she’d cleared the door of the house.
“That’s stupid,” he said. “Punishing her for nothing.”
“She wanted to play stupid games, she can win some stupid prizes,” Elizabeth countered.
“So what, exactly, are you grounding her for?” Webber asked. “Calling me when she had somewhere to be, knowing you wouldn’t get off your fat, lazy ass to take her? Because, oh, your shit bag of a new husband took her car that she could have gotten there with?”
“I am not fat!” Elizabeth snarled.
No, she wasn’t.
But I knew why Webber called her that.
