14. Fickle AF

Gulping, I throw my shirt back on and answer the call. Dad’s face appears on the screen, but I keep my phone’s camera blocked with my thumb.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Pumpkin.” He smiles, but he’s peering intently at his phone. “I just woke up, thought I’d call to say hello. Is the video call not working?”

“Oh, um, just a second,” I say, hustling out of my room while I try to smooth my hair down into a not-just-fucked situation. I hurry downstairs, bare feet quiet on the floor. It seems wisest to put as much distance between Lincoln and me as possible.

Finally, I’m in the living room. I settle onto the edge of the couch, trying to look relaxed even though I’m anything but. I scrub a hand over my face. I’m not sure what evidence could be left behind, but I’m not taking any chances. Then, with a deep breath, I remove my thumb from the phone camera.

“There you are,” Dad says.

“Sorry, technical difficulties.” I give him what I hope is a sheepish and not a guilty grin.

“No worries. How are things going? It’s been a few days. Are you and Lincoln settling in okay?”

“Um, yeah,” I say, keeping my voice bright. “He’s a cool guy.”

I literally just had him inside of me, and I’m calling him “cool?” Please don’t blush, please don’t blush.

“I thought you two would get along. And he said Caleb is staying for a few days, too. They aren’t getting in your way or anything?”

“Not at all. They’re perfect gentlemen.” When they aren’t dirty-talking with their filthy, skilled mouths.

Lincoln appears in the hallway, stalking toward me like he wants to say something. I warn him off with a subtle shake of my head. This is hard enough as it is, trying to keep what we did from my dad.

A subject change with Dad is needed. “Tell me about Japan!” I say. “How’s the interpretation work going?”

“Oh, it’s good. About the same as usual. I’m mostly here for the food. They could pay me in Japanese food and I’d still do the job.”

That’s a constant joke of his and I’ve heard it about five hundred times. I laugh anyway.

Lincoln rolls his eyes and signals at me with his hands. I don’t know what he’s trying to say and I honestly don’t care right now. Although I do glance down to make sure my shirt is on correctly. It’s inside out, but my dad shouldn’t be able to tell.

“I’m still trying to come home early,” Dad continues, “because as much as I like the food here, I hate the thought of leaving you in California alone.”

“Well, I’m not alone,” I remind him.

“True, true. But I’d still like to get back. If you go off and get another job and leave home before we have a chance to really bond again, I’m going to be disappointed.”

“I could just stay here forever,” I joke. “The pool is nice.”

“You know you’re welcome to,” he says. “Obviously, I want you to have a meaningful life, with work that fulfills you, and friends and maybe even a family of your own someday. But you can stay with me for as long as you want, Pumpkin.”

My dad is freaking awesome. Why did I ever let my mom poison me against him? Why was I such a brat to him?

And now I’m fucking around with his stepbrother and his stepbrother’s best friend?

What the hell is wrong with me?

I run my house key back and forth over the chain around my neck, thinking. Too many questions. I need answers instead. Or rather, decisions. I need to make a decision, soon.

I’ve had a great time with both Lincoln and Caleb, but I’m realizing now, more than ever, just how tenuous this whole set-up is. What am I doing? I’m going to need a plus-one to Chloe and Troy’s wedding if I’m to have even a hope of surviving it. Maya and Sawyer clearly thought Caleb too old for me, and Lincoln’s the same age—and there’s also that teeny tiny issue of him being my step-uncle.

This whole situation was doomed before it even started, and the fact I was ready to fuck Lincoln again before presumably drifting off into a sated dreamland in his arms just confirms the truth that I don’t know what’s best for me.

“Evelyn?” Dad says.

“Yeah, I’m here, sorry.”

He chuckles. “You were so still, it looked like the video froze.”

“Nope, just spacing out.” I ask him more questions about what he’s doing, and about the region of Japan where he’s working right now, and everything else I can think of to distract him so that he won’t focus on what’s going on here at home. The way he talks about Japan makes me want to visit, or rather, it makes me want to travel. Shouldn’t I go somewhere and find myself or whatever, in a big “embrace life” memoir-style adventure?

From the corner of my eye, I see Lincoln pacing back and forth. He looks agitated. I motion for him to settle the fuck down, but either he doesn’t get the message, or he physically can’t do it.

Finally, my dad says he has to go. “Big day ahead,” he says, “and I’ll be unavailable for most of it when we travel up north. The next few days will be spotty on communication. Take care, okay?”

“Will do, Dad.”

Lincoln waves his hands again. I turn to the side so I can’t see him.

“Tell Lincoln I said hey, and I’ll text him as soon as I can, all right?”

“Okay. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Pumpkin.”

Now Lincoln is right in front of me, holding his hand out for my phone. Ugh, why?

“Hey, wait, Dad—” I say, but my phone gives three beeps. Dad ended the call.

“Are you serious?” Lincoln asks, throwing his hands in the air.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I ask.

He laughs, but more in disbelief than in humor. “Now you’d like to know?”

“Yeah, maybe instead of pacing and growling, you could enlighten me.”

“Then let me enlighten you, little girl.” He stares down at me, eyes flashing with heat. I’m mesmerized by his mouth—a mouth that, only moments ago, was passionately working magic against mine. He says, “I signaled several times that I wanted to talk to Mark, and you completely ignored me.”

He’s so close now, I could stand on my tiptoes and lick his chin. I’m tempted to do it, too—maybe he’d lighten up a little, take that massive stick out of his ass.

“So?” He crosses his arms. Those powerful arms that were holding me down in my bed while I writhed through my orgasm. “What do you have to say for yourself, Evelyn?”

The absolute heavy-handed nerve of this man. I stand up, but I don’t lick him—I hold up my phone like it’s a piece of evidence. “I was in the middle of a conversation!”

“And I wanted to talk to my brother!”

The front door opens, and Caleb steps in. Immediately sensing the tension in the room, he says, “What’s happening?”

* * *