Page 90 of Disobedient Pawn

“Thanks, Myles. Is everyone here?” I asked, wanting to change the topic.

He was wearing the exact opposite of Nash with his steel grey suit and black vest. I was feeling wildly underdressed and simultaneously wearing way too many clothes. I needed to scrub how sexy they looked from my mind, but I knew that was never happening, stupid traitorous thoughts.

“Aye, we’re all ere and our parents.” He rolled his eyes. “Lawrence coulda left me Da an Devin at home, an I wouldna complained.”

“Have you been drinking? Not that it’s any of my business, but your accent is really thick tonight.”

Myles blushed and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Bein’ around that lot will make ya want ta do a lot more than drink, but aye, I should cut meself off.” He continued to stare at me, and it took more willpower than it should’ve to ignore him. He’d lied to me, over and over again.

“Come on in. I promise a truce for tonight.” Nash held up his hands.

“Fine. Deal.”

I stepped past Myles, and it looked like he wanted to say something, but he looked down at the ground instead.

“I’ll take your coat,” Nash said as I stepped inside the house.

He took it from me like a gentleman as it slipped down my arms. He was acting way too nice, and I stared at his back, wondering what the hell he really wanted from me.

“What do you want, Nash?”

“Nothing. I told you we have a truce, remember?”

My eyes bounced around the overly lavish foyer. This place reeked of Mr. Collier. It screamed intimidating, and I’m better than you with all my money and arrogance. Every corner had something that looked more expensive than the one before.

“You ready for this?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” I said, and he smirked.

Myles held his elbow out for me like a gentleman, and I stared at it for a long time.

“There be no ulterior motive.

I slowly slid my arm into the crook of his. He laid his other hand on mine. He was warm, and yet a shiver traveled down my back. I turned my head away from his sweet face before my resolve weakened.

Nash pushed open a tall door—that was unnecessary unless you played in the NBA. Beyond the door were two very distinct groups. It reminded me of those family dinners I’d seen on television where the parents were at one table while the kids were at another. Liam, Theo, Blake, a pretty girl around ten with fiery red hair, and a young boy of around six were at one end of the table with three empty seats. At the other end sat Count Dick at the head, and no one else I recognized other than my father.

My father was laughing at something way too loudly, and his face flushed red, clearly drunk. All the goodwill I’d gathered to play nice flew out the fancy door. My father looked my way smiling as he pushed himself up and almost knocked over his chair.

“Ren, my daughter, you look amazing.” Everyone awkwardly looked in my direction as I stepped away from Myles. “I knew this was the school for you,” he said, trying to walk toward me, but he had to stop and grab a chair to keep from falling over.

Tears stung my eyes as I watched him wobbling, and I refused to take one step in his direction. My family was reduced to an ill mother who was murdered and a drunk for a father. At the moment, I didn’t feel like I had anything to be thankful for.

When my father was close enough, he grabbed me in a hard hug that I didn’t reciprocate, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

“So stunning,” he slurred. All I could smell was the expensive scotch on his breath. I recognized that odor all too well. His eyes were as red as his cheeks. “It feels like forever since I saw you.”

“Well, it has been a month, but that shouldn’t feel that long for you. You’ve certainly gone longer.”

He snorted a laugh instead of recognizing what I said as an insult. I could feel everyone watching us, and I hated it.

Parents shouldn’t embarrass their children like this. Why was I forced to tell him that he was cut off? It wasn’t fair, but my instinct was to ask Mr. Collier not to give him any more. I’d been the ref before, ensuring my father didn’t stumble into my mum’s room drunk. I always got him to sleep it off in a spare room while I stupidly held out hope that the stress of my mum’s illness had started him down this road. Obviously, I was wrong, or maybe the ship was so far out and lost at sea that it didn’t know how to get back to shore. Either way, I couldn’t be his lighthouse or anything else anymore. It was time I looked after myself first.

“Has it really been that long?”

“Yes. I haven’t seen the new house yet, or did you forget that as well?”