Page 84 of Gilt

“No, I’m just here to get some stuff.”

“Your mom called,” he continues ignoring my denial. “She said you took off, but she didn’t say why. That’s the car she got you in the driveway.”

That’s a better explanation for the phantom luxury vehicle’s presence than I could have hoped for. Then I remember she bought it with Hans’ money. Maybe later, I’ll take it to the desert and torch it. “Where are the keys?”

“On your dresser.” He points to the fob. “It’s been waiting for you. I was tempted to take it out for a spin, but I was hoping you’d come home.”

“I didn’t,” I repeat. “I’m staying with Josie, I just need some clothes.”

“Look, Emma, I think it would be better if you stayed here.”

I abandon the packing and glare at him. “Right now, what you think doesn’t matter. I feel safer at the Deckards.”

My words are a verbal slap across his face. He recoils, shame flitting over his features before he looks at the floor. “I know you don’t believe this, but it was an accident.”

“Yeah, I accidentally got in the way of the fist you intended for Jameson.” I don’t miss how he winces when I say his name. “Then you accidentally filed the police report against him for assault. I could have done the same to you, but I didn’t.”

I zip my old gym bag shut and throw it over my shoulder. The rest of my stuff is shoved into a couple of reusable grocery bags I found at the bottom of my closet. There’s a lifetime of memories in this room that can’t be packed away.

But maybe it’s time to leave them behind.

“You’re still a minor,” he says finally.

“Is that the only card parents have?” I ask him, recalling how my mom said the same thing that last night in Palm Springs. “Because I won’t be a minor in a few days. So if you want to force me to stay here until I turn eighteen, go ahead. But when I do turn eighteen, I’ll walk out that door, and you’ll never see me again.”

“I don’t want that,” he begins.

“No, I didn’t think so,” I continue, not allowing him to interrupt my diatribe. “I need to come back on my own if I decide to come back at all.”

“I want to make this right.” There’s a vulnerability in his voice that I’ve never heard from my father. I guess dads aren’t supposed to show their weaknesses. He’d never been able to hide his. I’d just never been one of them before.

“Then give it time,” I advise him.

Sliding past him, I head down the hallway.

“Are you still seeing him?” he calls after me.

I stop and turn to face him. “Yes.”

“Just to upset me?”

I shake my head. It’s not the first time in my life I have felt sorry for my father. What can make a person stop believing in other people? “No. I’m still seeing him because I love him.”

I drop that bombshell, and then I walk away, leaving him to figure out how to cope with the damage.

CHAPTER THIRTY

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for me to realize that there is no key or ignition in this car. If I wanted to torch it before, now I’m planning on driving straight to get some gasoline for the bonfire. It’s Josie who finally figures it out.

“Try that,” she says, pointing to a button that reads on/off.

I press the brake pedal, and then I hit the button. The engine purrs to life.

“This car is so sexy.” Josie runs her fingers over the leather armrest. If I’m not careful, she’s going to orgasm on the spot.

“I hate it,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Because it’s from your mom, or do you have problems with luxury cars in general?”