5. Prodigal Daughter

On Saturday, I sleep in until just before check-out. Then I have to rush to shower and gather my things. My body is sore from last night’s fucking.

That was, in a word, the most amazing, most erotic experience of my life. I want to relive it while I take a nice, hot, leisurely shower, but instead I’m gathering things up and haphazardly tossing them into my stolen suitcase—the one thing I’d broken into Mom and Harold’s house to take. I refused to tow my belongings to my dad’s place in garbage bags.

I use an app to get a ride to Hillside. It’s going to cost a fortune from San Esteban, but I budgeted for this, and I’ll find a new job soon, and my own little place to rent. Maybe not in San Esteban, with its higher cost of living, but in Hillside, or farther out in the suburbs, maybe.

My dad’s house looks exactly the same. A big, two-story house, aesthetically pleasing architecture, spaced far enough from the neighbors for plenty of privacy. His job as a big-shot interpreter earned him this place. Of course, it also meant he was absent from a lot of my childhood milestones because he was always working, usually overseas.

As soon as my driver stops the car in the circular driveway, the front door of the house opens and Dad steps outside. Years have passed, but they’ve been kind to him. A few faint wrinkles crease near his blue eyes, and there’s extra gray in his brown hair. I was born when my parents were both twenty-one, making them among the younger parents when I was growing up.

“Evelyn,” he says, opening the car door.

I step out and let him envelop me in a hug. It’s a little awkward, because my head doesn’t fit against his chest the same way it used to—I got a little taller. But we recover quickly and get my suitcase and other bags from the trunk before waving off the driver.

Dad helps me with my luggage, giving the suitcase a second glance. “That’s all?”

“Yep.” I try to infuse cheer into my voice, but I’m honestly not feeling it.

I’m twenty-six and moving back in with my father. I always thought I had my life together.

“I got your room ready for you, fresh bedding and everything,” Dad says as we head inside. “There are a few things of Lincoln’s that I didn’t have a chance to move yet. Those can go to the spare room or my office.”

An old point of contention. I’d been furious, as a teenager, that Lincoln was taking my room when there was a perfectly good guest bedroom. But mine has an en suite bathroom and Dad thought that since I hadn’t even been staying overnight on my rare visits with him, Lincoln may as well have the nice bedroom.

I was a spoiled brat to insist otherwise—I see that now.

And here I’ve spent six years hating the guy for taking my place.

This sucks.

We go upstairs. Dad sets my suitcase in my room and says, “I’ll just let you settle in. Come out whenever you’re ready. I have fixings for paninis.”

“Yum, I’ll be out soon.”

Once his footsteps echo down the hall and fade from my hearing, I look around. This room looks like it never belonged to me. A guitar rests on a stand—I never played. There are a few books on the Amazon rainforest—two travel accounts, some field guides, and a photography book—the kind you’d put on a coffee table. Well, maybe I can learn something new while I get back on my feet.

I unload my clothing into a thankfully empty dresser. In the closet, a couple of suits hang, but otherwise the hangers are empty and waiting for my things.

I set up my phone charger and speaker on the nightstand next to the bed. When I look along the wall to find the outlet, I see a piece of paper on the floor. It looks like it slid underneath the nightstand and got hooked partly under the baseboard.

Curious, I pull it out. Hmm…a receipt to Love Adventures, the local adult toy store located on the shady side of Hillside. Definitely not mine—I never worked up the nerve to go in there when I was in high school. Although naturally, I was curious. Looks like Lincoln purchased…damn. Nipple clamps, a butt plug (v), whatever the v means. Vibrating? Wow, he’s adventurous. Also, gross. Not him—it isn’t gross to be adventurous. But I feel gross, because I shouldn’t be curious about what my uncle bought.

Step-uncle, I mentally correct myself. He’s my dad’s stepbrother, so he and I are not related. And I never met the guy so it’s not like I can picture him using any of this stuff.

Still, ew. Uncle. Stop, brain.

If he’s adventurous, then I am, too. Exhibit A: last night’s very sexy encounter with two hot, older men.

I wish I hadn’t panicked afterward. I wish I hadn’t left without giving James or Caleb my phone number, or getting theirs. I’ve had a taste of what just one of them can do. The two together? I might not survive it, but heck, I wish I had the chance to try. Now I’ll never get that.

I swear I don’t know what’s best for me sometimes. I ignored my gut when Troy was cheating. I ignored my gut when Chloe buddied up to me, pretending to be my best friend. I ignored my gut telling me to stay in that room at Vice with those two men.

So many regrets.

And for some reason, the biggest, most painful among them right now isn’t Troy or Chloe. A bizarre need to see James and Caleb again is filling my heart, but I have no way of finding them. I didn’t even get their full names.

Maybe if I type “hot forty-something men named James and Caleb,” the search engine will be kind to me.

I snort. Doubtful.

But Dad’s waiting, and my stomach rumbles. I head toward the kitchen, ready to eat.

He fixes us sandwiches, and there’s a short bit of awkwardness when he doesn’t remember that I can’t stand onions in any way, shape or form, but he quickly slides the grilled onions into a container and pops them back in the fridge.

We take our sandwiches and hard lemonades to the deck outside so we can eat overlooking the large, deep blue swimming pool.

“You’ve done a lot with the yard,” I say, noticing the climbing flowered vines and the pergola covering half of the pool, the lounge chairs sitting to one side underneath a large umbrella. “It looks really nice.”

“Thanks.” There’s an ironic twist to his lips. “I started watching some of those home improvement reality shows and getting inspired.”

I wonder if he started watching them because he was seeing someone, but as far as I know, Dad never dated anyone long-term after he and Mom divorced.

“Hey, before I forget.” He pulls a key from his pocket and hands it to me. “I got a new door a while ago, better locks. So this is the new key.”

“Thanks.” I take the warm metal from his hand. It’s silver and kind of pretty, as far as house keys go, so I quickly unclasp the chain I usually wear around my neck and slide the key on.

Dad grins. “You used to wear your keys like that in high school.”

“Hey, it’s convenient. I never lost them.”

“True, true. So, tell me about you,” he says. “The school didn’t renew your contract?”

“Nope. Not enough interest in French there. Everyone wanted to take Latin or Chinese—neither of which I know.” I shrug. “And I needed to get out of Fair Heights, anyway.”

Out of Fair Heights and away from Chloe, Troy, and Mom.

“Do you know what’s next?” His blue eyes widen as he hurries to say, “I mean, I don’t want to rush you—you can stay here as long as you want, Pumpkin. I’m just wondering about what you want to do.”

I run a finger through the condensation gathering on my hard lemonade bottle. “I don’t know. French teachers aren’t in high demand.”

“I know you previously said you have no interest in translation work, but if you ever change your mind, you know who to talk to.”

Smiling over at him, I say, “Mom?”

He guffaws, but sobers immediately. “Sorry, I’m not trying to?—”

“Hey, I’m the one who brought it up. She wouldn’t know the first thing about getting and keeping a job.”

“I know, but I never want to speak badly about her in front of you.”

“Dad,” I say. “I’m an adult and I’m perfectly aware of quite a number of her faults.”

“I know. It’s just, I never wanted Francesca and me to be the kind of divorced parents who spoke badly about each other in front of the kids.”

I don’t bother telling him that Mom never operated with the same courtesy. He probably knows this.

“Well, I wasn’t aware enough to appreciate it as a kid, but I appreciate it now,” I say. “And I don’t know if I came out and said it, but I’m sorry for being a butthole about Uncle Lincoln staying in my room. I wasn’t using it anyway, and it was a stupid thing to fight over.”

“You were still a kid,” Dad says.

“An asshole teenager,” I say, “but yeah.”

He grins. “I’m just glad we have this chance to reconnect now.”

“Me too.” I survey the pool, thinking I might go for a swim later this afternoon. “So, you’re probably wondering what happened…why I called, why I need a place to stay.”

“I don’t want to pry, but of course,” he says. “If you want to talk about it, I’d love to know what’s going on in your life.”

I give him the short version: Troy cheated with Chloe and moved out. I couldn’t afford the apartment on my own after the private school where I worked let me go.

“Wait,” Dad says. “Chloe? He cheated on you with your sister?”

“Yep.”

My fiancé. My half-sister.

Behind my back, for six months.

And although I don’t tell this part to Dad, Mom had taken Chloe’s side, which just…it might have been the worst part. I know Chloe is the favorite because she’s my mom and stepdad’s daughter. Two years older, I had the “bad dad,” the guy Mom hated, and I inherited his bright blue eyes and lopsided smile. On the best days, Mom could barely stand to look at me. On the worst, she wouldn’t even speak to me. I could do nothing right.

Once I got older and graduated high school, then college, then got a job, it seemed like she wanted a relationship. Things were better. I met Troy halfway through college, and after we graduated, we got engaged.

I’m pretty sure he and Chloe hooked up right after our engagement dinner.

Dad isn’t very good about hiding his anger, and his outrage right now is evident in his reddening cheeks and narrowed eyes. He rakes a hand through his hair like he always does when he gets aggravated.

Somehow, his indignation makes me feel better. I don’t know why it works, it just does.

“Pumpkin, that piece of shit boy is worthless, and I know it hurts, but I’m glad you’re rid of him now, before you legally tied yourself to him. As for your sister, well.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I’m glad she’s no daughter of mine.”

It’s probably the worst thing he’ll say out loud about my mom’s family, but it holds weight.

“Thanks, Dad.” I reach out and squeeze his hand. This is the support I didn’t know I needed, the unconditional acceptance I’d thought I had in Troy after being starved of it while growing up in Mom and Harold’s house. To think I threw it all away because I was mad about a bedroom? Damn, I was stupid.

He gives me a smile, and it turns into a wince. This is his “bad news” look.

“What?” I ask.

“After hearing all you’re going through, I feel really bad about leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Pumpkin. I have work in Japan for the next five months.”

“What?” Disappointment weighs on me. I’d thought we could start repairing our relationship.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m already trying to shorten the trip, but the soonest I can get out of there is probably three months.”

I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. “Yeah. Um, it’s fine.”

“I know the timing isn’t good. I agreed to the job before I knew you needed to come back home, and there aren’t many back-ups in my field, as you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Bright side, though, is neither you nor your uncle will need to sleep in the guest room when he comes. He can take my room.”

“Uncle Lincoln is coming?”

“He is,” Dad says. “I thought I told you. He travels around for work and sleeps here every few weeks.”

Not only do I not get to hang out with my dad, but I’ll be sharing his place with a virtual stranger from time to time.

“He’ll stay out of your way, I promise,” Dad says. “He just uses this place to crash. He barely comes home for dinner most nights—he has an active social life. He’s younger than me, and still likes to get out there.”

I remember the receipt I found in my room and I immediately try to wipe it from my memory.

“I’ll be busy job hunting, anyway,” I say, trying to infuse cheer into my voice. “Lots to do, to get back on my feet.”

“Look,” he says, “I know you’re eager to get back out there, but don’t rush it, okay? If even for a week, just try to rest and heal your heart. I’ll leave my credit card for food and whatever else you need, and you can buy all the rocky road ice cream you want.”

I’m not sure how much healing I’ll be able to do when I’m trying to stay out of my step-uncle’s way, but Dad’s offering me the gift of a free place to stay, and food to eat, and this kick-ass pool that I fully plan on taking advantage of.

Blinking back tears, I say, “Thanks, Dad.”

“We’ve had some rough years,” he says in a gruff voice, “but you’ll always be my girl, Evelyn.”

I take comfort in that. I thought I was alone, but I’m not—I still have my dad.