“Aren’t you going to tell her you’re proud?” Mum grits out, smacking Dad on the arm.
He rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “Of course I’m proud. I sent her flowers and a five-hundred-pound gift card.”
“You knew?” Mum screeches.
“I got that the first day of working as a presenter. I thought it was from my boss.”
He looks at us and those being nosey. “I’m your father; of course I knew. Didn’t any of you?”
“No, I thought she was stripping or worked as one of those dress-up characters,” Mum admits, shrugging.
“We really should still take those lessons,” I remind her.
Dad smirks at Mum, and I inwardly gag. “You really should.”
“How come I didn’t know?” Aiden pipes in when a few others nod, indicating they knew.
“I only found out the other week,” Hope calls from the front.
“We’re your parents. You can’t hide anything from us,” Dad adds.
“Really?” Charlotte squeaks, glancing at her dad.
“Not now, Charlotte,” Kayla soothes, pulling Myles down in his seat when he begins to turn red.
“Did you and Liam know, Landon?” I ask, glancing up the aisle.
The ‘duh’ look he gives me has me rolling my eyes.
“Yeah, of course we did. We put a track me app on your phone when you started sneaking out at night and followed you.”
“Besides, you were shit at being sly,” Liam adds, snorting.
“Fuck off,” I bark, turning back around.
“So, you don’t work for the MI5?” Charlotte asks, pouting.
“Nope.”
“Cool.”
“Does this mean you’ll stop planning my murder?” Clayton asks, filled with hope.
“No. I don’t trust your intentions towards my daughter.”
“Would free vouchers to an all-you-can-eat Chinese help?”
Dad sniffs, and although he thinks he’s playing it off, he slips up and licks his lips. “It might.”
“I guess that’s all I can hope for,” Clayton states, relaxing.
I wait for Mum to distract Dad with questions before leaning in a little to Clayton, keeping my voice low. “Don’t let his friendly behaviour fool you. He might not physically harm you, but you’ll wish that he had once he’s finished fucking with you.”
“I’ll be fine,” Clayton assures me, his lips twitching.
I shake my head in pity. “Famous last words,” I mutter, downing the rest of my drink.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The cushion I fell asleep on stiffens under me, bringing me out of my sleep. When said cushion begins to vibrate, I stir awake, yet keep my eyes shut when I hear whispering.
The last thing I remember is getting back on the coach after stopping for food at a rest stop. I finished my rum and must have passed out not long after, which isn’t surprising since I’d worked a double shift at the care home. What I don’t remember is wrapping myself around Clayton. My head is resting on his chest, my arm wrapped around his stomach, and my leg thrown over his.
“Please stop staring at me like you’re contemplating how to hide my body,” Clayton pleads, and I just know he’s talking to my dad.
“You like my daughter,” Dad states rather than questions.
I sometimes wonder how he survived his brothers with his bluntness.
“Honestly?”
“I’d break your legs if you ever lied when it came to my daughter,” Dad promises, sounding cheerful at the idea it might happen.
I’m about to put my acting skills to the test and stir awake so I can intervene before my dad forces Clayton’s bank details, national security number and a list of his past relationships from him.
“She’s hard not to like. She’s such a contradiction to herself. I’ve never met anyone like her. She doesn’t come across as feisty and blunt to cover up who she really is; she is feisty and blunt. It’s the caring and kindness part of herself that she hides from others. She plays everything off.
“We were shopping once and walked past a homeless man. I couldn’t look. It hurts too much to see someone in need and at their lowest. I didn’t think Hayden took notice. It kind of struck me, since she’s female and they tend to notice everything.”
“This story is depressing and all but is there a point to it?” Dad chides, acting aloof. He would never admit he helps too, in every way he can. My mum was once a runaway living on the streets. It was how she met my dad. Ever since, he’s done everything to give back.
“Yes. My company donates to homeless organisations monthly and has done for years. Yet, just as we walked past and I heard this guy cough, I couldn’t just carry on. When I checked my wallet for money, it was empty. I felt bad. I know I can’t help them all, but it struck me that I couldn’t help the man.
“Anyway, we walked into this shop and Hayden shoves some clothes at me and says she needs to run back outside, that she dropped something. She didn’t know I watched as she walked a couple of shops down to give this guy some money. And she never said anything when she came back in or when I questioned her about whether she found what she was looking for.
“Someone like that is rare. She didn’t want praise for giving, or recognition. She just wanted to give without making a big deal about it. It surprised me. So yeah, it’s hard not to like her.”
“Of course you do. Who doesn’t? She’s my daughter. But that wasn’t the kind of ‘like’ I was asking about, and you know it.”
Because I’m his daughter. Pfft, it’s because I’m fucking awesome.
“Respectfully, it’s none of your business. It’s between me and Hayden.”
Ohh, those are fighting words.
“Well, respectfully, if you hurt my girl in any way, you’ll find yourself put into a human blender or in another country and arrested for a crime you didn’t commit. I’ll make sure you spend years being Bubba’s bitch.”
Aw, that’s so sweet. I knew I was his favourite.
“That’s, um, very descriptive,” Clayton claims.
“I hate misunderstandings,” Dad confirms. “So, do you understand?”
“I’m not going to hurt her.”
I hear Dad shuffling about. “I’m glad we cleared that up,” he explains. “Hayden, you can open your eyes now. It’s safe.”
“She’s awake?” Clayton asks, stiffening beneath me.
“Way to give me up, Dad.” I curse, prying myself off Clayton and stretching the stiffness out of my back. I blink away the dim lighting. “Where is everyone?”
“They’re getting keys, but by the looks of it, something is happening,” Clayton comments, looking out the window.
He’s right. Everyone has congregated outside a large building that I’m assuming is the reception, although parts look like a home. They seem to be arguing, fingers pointing and all.
“We really should go check in,” Clayton reminds me.
Uncle Maverick steps onto the bus, making his way towards us. “There aren’t enough cabins. Even if we share, there’s still two people who we can’t fit in.”