Page 49 of #Moonstruck

“Did I talk to him?” Had Cole started taking drugs? “To the man who ruined our family and our mom? No, I didn’t talk to him.” But the fact that Cole had asked made me realize he probably had. “Have you seen our father?”

More guilt on his face.

“Why would you see him on purpose?”

“He’s our dad.”

“He is not our ‘dad,’” I snapped back. “He’s our genetic donor. I can’t believe you did that.”

“He asked about you, Maisy. Wanted to know how you were doing.”

That just made me angrier. “Know what I want? For him to have not left our mother. For her to be whole and not living in some facility because of the accident. You can’t always get what you want.”

I felt totally betrayed. I went into the bathroom and slammed shut the sliding door. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as slamming a heavy, swinging door.

There was not one part of me that believed my father cared about me. I had too much experience to suggest otherwise. I’d never once felt like he loved me. As a little girl, I was always trying to get his attention. To be pretty enough or talented enough so I’d be worthy of his notice. I didn’t know if it was just the basic differences between men and women that made Cole and me see things in such radically different ways, or just our personalities.

If our father cared about us, he would have checked in on our mom. He would have been there after the accident to see how he could help. Instead, he abandoned us and forced Fitz to become our substitute parent. If our father had cared, he would have sent us money. He wouldn’t have fathered twenty new half siblings. He wouldn’t have put his pathetic music career above us.

I sighed as my anger started to dissipate. The entire evening had been like a roller coaster. High, low, high, low. Thanks to my baggage and dumb family.

All this time I’d been saying I needed to stay away from Ryan so he wouldn’t break my heart.

Maybe Ryan should stay away from me and my drama. He’d be better off without it.

I had to call Angie the next day. I didn’t want her to get the wrong impression about Ryan and me if she saw something online.

She didn’t even say hello. “What’s happening with you and Ryan?”

“What have you heard?”

She squealed so loudly I had to pull my phone away from my ear. “Nothing. I was completely speculating. Lurid details now!”

“I need you to be my nurse.”

“Why?”

“Nurse–patient confidentiality.” I didn’t know if that was a thing, but she had to stay silent.

“Okay. What are your symptoms?”

“At the moment? My stomach hurts and my chest aches. I’m making really stupid decisions, risky moves, and I want to forget my rules.”

“I am diagnosing you with a serious crush. Which I can’t blame you for. Now what’s the secret you need to tell me?”

I sat in one of the bathrooms, the only places that had any privacy on this bus besides Ryan’s bedroom.

I was not going in Ryan’s bedroom ever again.

“Ryan and I are dating.”

More shrieks and squeals.

“Angie, Angie! It’s fake. We’re not really dating.”

“Oh. Okay. Wink. Wink. You’re notreallydating.”

It might make my life easier if my best friend believed me. “I’m serious. We’re just friends.”