Page 20 of We Drank the Dawn

“Why not?”

I sat forward, rubbing my palms together. “We’re taking a break to figure things out.”

“Taking a break.” He repeated the words like they were the dumbest load of crap he’d ever heard. “What do you need to figure out that you can’t work through under the same roof?”

“We needed some space⁠—”

“Both of you? Or just you?”

“Well, it was good for both of us⁠—”

“Your wife is standing in my living room, crying. Don’t lie to me.”

“Okay, fine. I guess just me then.” I squeezed my hands together, anger swallowing up my embarrassment. Being treated like a child gathered the heat from my face and pushed it into my chest. “I couldn’t sit at home anymore.”

“Why not?”

Clenching my teeth, I filtered my words. No matter how intimidating my father could be, I wouldn’t open my chest for him to scrutinize my motives. “It’s not really your business.”

After a moment of silence, he clicked his tongue and stepped into the living room—a few feet from where I sat. “You’re sitting under my roof, aren’t you? Using my heat pump, flushing my toilets, and eating my food?”

“Dad—”

His volume rose. “You can’t leave an ass print on my couch and worry my wife then claim it’s not my business”

I scoffed, anger roiling through my veins.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to answer me like a man. Why can’t you be at home with your wife?”

Sarah's soft sniffling filled the silence.

I rolled my tongue over the inside of my cheek, annoyed that the answer floated to my lips with no effort whatsoever. I bit it back though, unwilling to divulge my insecurities right here and now. I’d built my fortress like a skilled mason and I’d be damned before I let my father blow it to smithereens with a single blow. Clawing for a single shred of pride, I set my jaw—a silent defiance.

His voice came like a hiss. “Get out.”

I didn’t move.

A long, uncomfortable beat of quiet passed before he spoke again. “You deaf now, too?”

I blinked in disbelief as my jaw dropped.

“I said get out of my house.”

“Dad—”

“You were raised better. The next time you can’t handle a domestic spat you can book a hotel room or piss around until you wander into a homeless shelter. But you’re not coming to my house to escape the woman you’re supposed to love.” He was on a roll now. “I had a feeling that you coming in the afternoons might escalate and I should’ve nipped it in the bud way back when.” His voice softened again. “Sarah, I’m sorry.”

“It’s—okay.”

“No, honey. It’s not.” He sighed. “Have you been here for a while?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, gathering her resolve. “I came to pick him up Saturday morning, and I’ve been here every day since.”

“And Lynn?”

“She stays out of it.”

He clicked his tongue again. “When she gets home in a couple hours, I’ll talk to her. This won’t happen again.”