Chapter 19 The Right Thing to Do
POV Scarlett:
It was the right thing to do.
I tell myself that for the tenth time. I spent all my savings, but I needed to show that asshole that I did have the money to pay him back. Fine, now I’m more broke than ever, but I’m too proud to let his words get into my head. It took me a while to gather the amount, but now my soul feels clean—knowing I’ve paid for my moment of recklessness.
When I got the phone number of the place where he always sends his car to be washed, I called and found out how much he had paid to clean up what I did. I was horrified by the price. I could’ve washed that damn car myself for a hundred dollars—but who am I to say anything? What matters is that I paid for my mistake, and everything is back to normal.
Calmly, I get into the car and drive back to Ann. I need to prepare lunch for my father. Today I’ll have to get to work earlier—I need to recover the money I just spent as fast as possible. I have to rebuild an emergency fund; I can’t rely on luck anymore. After everything that’s happened, it’s clear that luck is not a word I’m used to.
A car passes beside me, and my heart races when I recognize the driver.
The impaler from the bathroom.
What the hell is he doing in Detroit? Why is my heart beating faster, and why is my underwear starting to get wet? I glance at the rearview mirror, trying to see which corner he turned onto, but I’ve already lost sight of him. If I close my eyes, I can still feel him between my legs. That fuck was good—no wonder he earned the nickname “the impaler.”
Forget it, Scarlett. It was just once.
And what a once.
Ah, Impaler.
Feeling my body heat rising and my panties damp, I force myself to stop thinking about what happened and focus on the road before I cause an accident.
...
When I get home, everything is silent. For the first time, I don’t find my father slumped in his armchair, and there are no beer cans or empty whiskey bottles scattered on the floor. Hope blooms inside me at the thought that maybe—just maybe—he’s starting to come out of his grief.
I walk through the house searching for him, eager to see my old father again. Maybe today will be our new beginning. Smiling wider than I have in months, I find him in the kitchen—cooking. My eyes fill with tears, and unable to hold back my joy, I run up behind him and throw my arms around him. The clean scent of freshly showered skin fills my nose.
“Dad,” I say, hugging him tightly.
“Scarlett, one day you’re going to kill me,” he grumbled, and I pulled back to kiss his cheek. “Don’t scare me like that again, girl.”
Girl.
I close my eyes, trying not to burst into tears. He called me girl again. He’s treating me like before. I don’t know what caused this change, but I don’t care to find out. What matters is that my father is back.
“I’m going to run and change clothes, wash my hands, and come help you,” I say, kissing his cheek again before running off.
I don’t care that tears keep rolling down my face—because the smile hasn’t left my lips. Tears of joy. I can’t even remember the last time I cried from happiness. I changed clothes as fast as I could, went to the bathroom to wash my hands, and spent a few minutes staring at myself in the mirror.
After every storm comes the calm of a sunny day.
That’s what Mom used to say, and I believe she was right. Everything from now on will be different.
I left the bathroom and was heading back to the kitchen to help Dad when my phone started ringing. No one ever calls me. The only people who might would be my old friends—but they’re part of the past, like so much else from my old life. That was the deal I made with my father: everything would stay behind.
I looked at the phone, and my heart clenched at the name flashing on the screen.
Asher.
My hand trembled, and I almost dropped the phone. I gripped it tightly, as if that could keep me in control. The ringtone filled my room, and I kept my eyes on the screen. His name disappeared, only to light up again seconds later. My eyes burned with the tears I refused to shed, my heart squeezed under the weight of the pain I was choking back, and my breath grew so shallow I wasn’t sure how long I could keep breathing like this.
Give up, Asher. Please, give up.
I begged silently, praying he’d hang up and not call again. He couldn’t call me today—not today, when my father was finally pulling himself together. If my father even suspected who was calling... No. I pushed the thought away.
The phone finally went silent, and I exhaled in relief when it didn’t ring again.
It hurts having to ignore one of the men I love, but I know I’m doing what’s best for him. Asher deserves to be completely happy—and with me, he’d only ever be half happy. Someone as wonderful as him deserves more than that. I’ll never be enough to make him whole, and I can only hope he realizes that soon—and lets me go for good.
I turned off my phone and went to the kitchen to help my father.
Everything will be fine.
I’m doing the right thing.