“You don’t have to do this if it’s going to put you in danger. We’ll find another way,” Freya says.
I rub the back of my neck. I don’t want Carmen doing this if it’s dangerous but we’re running out of time.
“Do you have any other leads on where Zach’s keeping Harley?”
Freya digs her teeth into her bottom lip. In any other situation that would have me hard as fuck but all I feel in this moment is her fear for Harley. “No. This is our first solid lead.”
Carmen drags in a breath so deep it’s like she’s drawing it down the phone line. “I’ll do it.”
“Carmen,” Freya starts only to get cut off.
“All that matters is finding that little girl, okay? That’s all that ever matters.”
Freya drags her thumb nail over her jeans. “Yeah, okay.” She passes on the number and then Carmen asks if Freya has a moment to talk to Sam. Apparently, the kid’s been asking after her nonstop.
Freya smiles so wide when he comes on the line that I decide then and there that we’re having kids one day.
I lean back on the couch, content just listening to them shooting the breeze and watching Freya laugh, when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Ozzie: Heads up, your dad is currently sitting in his car, in our driveway.
My muscles lock. Oz set up a more advanced security system after Jude got shot, including cameras out front. Him, Jude, and River are at the Lair, but Oz receives notifications on his phone when the cameras are triggered, a fact I’m very fucking grateful for right now because it gives me at least a moment to prepare.
My heart kicks up a storm as I stand and head to the front door. I’m not entirely sure I want my father in our house, so I open it to go meet him by his car but he’s already halfway to the door.
He stops when he sees me. His hands scrunch around the ball cap he’s holding and his tongue pokes inside his cheek.
He looks different from the last time I saw him but maybe that’s just because, other than a video call once or twice a year, I haven’t seen him for almost eight years.
His long gray hair is pushed back instead of messed up and he’s clean shaven. The coat he’s wearing is old, the brown leather battered, but at least he looks washed.
“What are you doing here?” The question comes out quieter than I intend and that pisses me off. My father doesn’t get to take my power anymore. He doesn’t get to make me feel fuckingless.
“I, uh, I came to talk to you.” He rubs his hand on the back of his neck, and I hate that I see myself in him. Only my bad neck comes from an accident whereas his is from years slumped or passed out on the couch.
“Eli.” Freya swings into the doorway, coming to an abrupt halt when she sees I’m not alone. “Oh.”
I take one look at her and stop fighting myself. Despite everything my father’s done I still want to hear what he has to say, and I’ve got questions of my own. I’m not sure I could have faced the conversation we need to have if I was by myself but with Freya here it doesn’t feel quite so fucking terrifying. If she can face her father, I sure as hell can face mine.
“You want to come inside? It’s fucking freezing out here.” I didn’t bother to put shoes on when I came out, and my feet are losing their feeling.
My dad nods, his hands flexing around his cap.
Once we’re in the house, I have no idea where to go.
Freya grabs on to the frozen tips of my fingers and guides me back into the living area. My father’s walking behind me and it takes everything in me not to flinch at having him at my back. He only laid a hand on me once as a kid before I hit him back and knocked him out cold. After that he kept his hands to himself, but he still threw things.
Freya squeezes my fingers and I realize I’m standing in front of the couch. “Do you want me to go?”
“No, stay. Please.”
She squeezes my hand again. “Okay. Why don’t you two sit down while I make us some coffee?”
The question is for me but my dad answers. “Thanks, doll.”
My neck snaps round and I cut him apart with my eyes. “Don’t talk to her.”
His throat bulges as he swallows but he nods his head and after a taut moment we both sit down, me on the couch, him in the armchair to my right.
