Page 259 of Tell Me I'm Enough

A couple of nearby parents glance over, and my dad’s eyes narrow. “You should be careful,” he says coolly. “I know girls like you from…lesserbackgrounds tend to forget their place and start to feelentitledwhen they get around the proximity of wealth and successful men they think want them for anything more than just an easy lay.”

I step in front of her instantly. “What thefuckdid you just say?”

He lifts his hands mockingly. “Relax.”

I’m inches from him now, anger radiating from my entire body.

The only thing holding back my fist from connecting with his face is the amount of people standing around us.

“I don’t want to hear youevertalk to her that way again, or anyone else for that matter.”

He leans closer, no doubt to land another emotional punch.

And then he stops.

His nose wrinkles slightly, and then he lets out a small laugh.

“Is that…whiskey?” he whispers for only me to hear.

I look around, finding Simone, praying she couldn’t hear him, then glare back at my father.

“You just can’t help it, can you?’ he snarks. “You’ll never be anything more than a disappointment…no matter what I do to try to change you.”

“Fuck you,” I spit.

He stops, looking around at all the eyes currently on us.

“Unless you want me to air out all your dirty laundry right here in front of your friends and your littlegirlfriend,” he says mildly, “I’d advise you to step away from the crowd and talk to me privately.”

I don’t falter or stand down. I won’t let him intimidate me. “What is there to talk about?”

He chuckles. “Trust me. I have some things to say. Things you’re gonna wanna hear.”

My stomach twists, and he smiles, seeing my reaction. “Let’s go.”

I glance around. Tank looks ready to throw a punch, and Simone just looks worried.

I go to walk away with him, but Simone’s hand reaches out to grab my arm, stopping me.

“What’s happening?”

“It’s fine,” I tell her. “I’ll be right back.”

We walk toward the far side of the stadium parking lot—out of earshot—and then he stops near the fence, leaning against it, and crossing his arms.

“I knew the drinking was getting bad, but this is just sad, Mason. It’s the middle of the fucking day.”

“Yeah?” I shoot back. “What do you care?”

I wish he cared. My dumbass heartwishedhe cared. But I know that’s not what this is.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I care about what it means, how it’ll affect the future.”

“You mean how it’ll affect yourfuture legacy?” I ask mockingly.

He nods like I’m stupid, like what else would it be? “Um, yeah.”

“Well, yourlegacyis fine. And your son is fine too, not that you asked or even care.”