Page 54 of Infatuated as They Come (Sinful Trilogy #2)

Holly

Me and my father were both in the kitchen, the air thick with tension that never used to exist between us.

Deep down, I had always been daddy’s little girl, and something I cherished and held near to my heart was how close me and him and Mom were.

Kindness and love and happy memories was what I had grown up with.

I was one of the lucky ones . But the man standing before me was quickly destroying all of that love and closeness.

He was ruining everything that used to make me love being his daughter.

“This is the worst thing you’ve ever done,” I muttered. “I’ve tried so hard to get you to see that he’s not a bad person and he’s tried too, but you? You won’t ever change, will you?”

He leaned up against the island, eyes on the floor as he gave his head a slow shake. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“Saying sorry to him would be a good start.”

“I’m not saying sorry for what I did.”

“You never say sorry for anything when it comes to him.”

“What was I supposed to think, Holly? I got that call and I saw you passed out with a bruise on your face. I put two and two together—”

“And you were wrong.” I cut him off. “Can you admit that? I understand why you were worried, okay? I get it. But I was the one who messed up, I was the one who made the mistake. Why aren’t you mad at me?”

“Because… Because…”

“Because you’ll look for any excuse to be mad at him! Anything! Even when I’m the one who screwed up.”

There was a long pause and I could see his fingers clenching against the marble edge of the island. “I did what any good father would do.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“He’s not good enough for you,” he said, his eyes finally meeting mine. “He never has been and he never will be and he thinks that too, and I wish you would realize that as well.”

“He makes me happy and I love him and that should be all you care about,” I said with a choked breath.

My hands found my chest, hating that I couldn’t grasp the pendant of the necklace I had become so used to wearing.

“But you’re still hung up on where he comes from.

You were waiting for something like this to happen, for him to make a mistake so you could pounce and keep him away from me. God, you probably wish he did hit me.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He winced. “I don’t want that to happen. Ever. All I have ever done was try to protect you. From day one, from the moment you were born. I will not apologize for wanting you to have a good life, Holly.”

“You think you’re protecting me, but all you’re doing is pushing me away from you.

I love you and Mom and I love that we’ve always been so close,” I said, hating how I could hear my voice wavering, “but now I don’t even want to be in this house with you anymore.

I don’t want to look at you or spend Christmas with you. ”

His eyes softened for a moment. “Don’t say that. Me and your mother have both been counting down the days until you came here to stay with us. We were both so excited to see you.”

“You wouldn’t think so. The second I get back you send my boyfriend to prison on Christmas.”

“We were waiting for you, not him.”

“He’s part of my life now. I know it’s easier for you to pretend like he isn’t, but I love him and I don’t plan on letting him go. You need to start treating him better. You need to accept him. You’re driving me away from you. You’re making me never want to come back here again. ”

“I’m not doing any of this to upset you, Holly. You think I am. You think I don’t have your best interests at heart, but I do. I’m not trying to hurt you here.”

“But you are! Don’t you get that?” I cried out. “It’s like you enjoy hurting him. No, I know you do. You do like to hurt him. You like it so much that you don’t even care that when you hurt him, you hurt me too.”

Stepping over to me, he kept his hands outreached, but it was like my body had a mind of its own as I took a hasty step back to get some much needed distance. It was such a simple action and was over in a second, but he looked at me as if I had wounded him.

“Holly, please,” he said, voice sounding like it was on the edge of vulnerability. “I’m sorry I upset you, okay? But I’m—”

“You’re not sorry for what you did,” I said with gritted teeth.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to and I don’t forgive you, anyway.

Especially since you brought up his mom like you’re still in high school or something.

What did you say to him exactly? About his mom?

I’d ask him but he’d probably do you a favor and give me some sugarcoated version. So, tell me: what did you say?”

“I said…” Hands stuffed into his pockets, he closed his eyes for a second. “I told him that he was like his father. That he had done to you what his father had done to his mother. I was angry , Holly. I was beyond angry.”

Lips pressed together, I took in those words, feeling my whole body tense up for the hundredth time since I woke up.

It still amazed me how carelessly callous he could be.

“You know, for a really long time me and Sawyer didn’t get along.

We’d fight the second we were in the same room together.

It was always over the dumbest, most pointless things.

It was so stupid. But he never really hurt me, though.

He kind of went out of his way to make sure he didn’t tell me things that would really hurt me.

It’s funny, ‘cause you do the opposite. You find the most hurtful things you could say to him and you make sure he hears them loud and clear.”

“I did what any good father would do,” was all he said to that.

“He’s been through so much already but you keep piling it on.

He’s trying so, so hard and you know he is, but you don’t care about that.

About how hard he works at his job, about how tired he is when he comes home, about how much effort he puts into keeping a roof over my head.

It’s not easy for him. We’ve never had to struggle the way he has.

The way he still is, because he won’t even let me help, but you don’t think about that either.

And you don’t even seem thankful for the life you have, and that’s because you have no real idea what it’s like to struggle.

Just like me,” I murmured. “I have no idea what it’s like to have to try so hard too.

I guess we both have our heads in the clouds… ”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Holly,” he said absently.

“An apology to my boyfriend would be nice, but I guess he won’t be getting that,” I muttered, just about to turn around, but then I spotted something on top of the counter.

Red wrapping paper stared back at me, the little Christmas trees scattered along it suddenly looking so joyless.

It was the gift Sawyer got me and there it sat with a giant dent. “What did you do?”

“Hm?” he murmured, eyes moving from the floor to the counter.

Grabbing the box, I held it to my chest. My name sat there on the white tag Sawyer had stuck to the front, his messy handwriting bringing me a weird amount of joy.

I gave the box a tiny shake, frowning at my dad when I heard the distinct and painful sound of clinking. “You broke it too. Of course you did.”

“I was furious last night,” he said with a shrug.

I couldn’t stand being in the same room with him anymore, so with the dented box tucked under my arm, I spun on my heels and stormed out of the kitchen.

“What did you expect me to do with it?” he asked, his footsteps heavy behind me. “Keep it?”

I kept my lips firmly pressed together as I rounded corner after corner, until I found the staircase.

“Where are you going?” he called out.

“I need to pack.”

“What do you mean? You’re leaving? You can’t leave.”

“I can and I will and I am,” I said as I stormed up the stairs and down the hallway, but that didn’t deter him from following after me .

“Where are you going?” he asked. “To a hotel? Or back to New York?”

“None of your business.”

“Holly, please.”

But I slammed my bedroom door shut before he could get in, shoving my clothes back into the bags I had packed them in, in such a rush that I was pretty sure I was leaving some behind. My eyes fell on my dresser and I spotted my necklace, just about to sigh in relief when my body went stiff.

The sparkling, silver pendant was no longer attached to the chain.

It sat there in two separate pieces. Broken, no longer connected, torn away from each other.

I must have stood there for a minute straight before I finally shoved the pieces into my coat pocket, and when I opened the door, my dad was still standing there, a pleading look on his face that made me feel guilty and furious all at the same time, because he had no right to look that way.

But I ignored my conscience as I pushed past him, right to the back of the house where Sawyer’s room was.

“We need to talk about this,” he said from behind me. “You can’t leave on Christmas.”

“Nice job breaking my necklace. Is there anything else you want to ruin?”

“It fell apart as soon as I took it off. It’s not my fault it cost fifty dollars.”

I spun around, stilling there on the spot, because in the midst of our argument he still couldn’t see how cruel he was being.

“He probably spent months saving up to buy it, just so he could give me something special. It’s the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten and I like it more than anything you’ve ever given me.

” And again, that pained look crossed his face, like he was suddenly off center and I was responsible for it, like my words were cutting too deep, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“It’s the best thing anyone’s ever given me and I’m so lucky it’s me who gets to wear something so sweet and thoughtful and special. That I got to wear it.”

“Please don’t leave,” he said, dejection there in his voice. “Not today, Holly.”