“When my time comes, I’ll die a happy man knowing I did one right thing in this world. You make me so very proud, Demitria. Please don’t let this change you.”
“I hate the unfairness of it all,” I truthfully admit. “You’re the best person I know, Dad, and you don’t deserve this. Deserve any of the hardships life has thrown at you.”
“My life has been full, honey, and I’ll die with no regrets because I got to share my life with you and my Luana. I’m luckier than most.”
A strangled sob pierces through the air, and we both look around. Mrs. Griffin is standing in the doorway, clutching her chest, her navy-blue eyes flooded with moisture. “I’m sorry,” she cries. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I just wanted to have a word with Demi before I left, and I didn’t want to interrupt such a beautiful moment.”
“It’s fine, Nora,” Dad says. “Don’t ever feel the need to apologize around here.”
“I’m good to talk now,” I say, kissing Dad on the cheek again. “Do you need me to get you anything, Dad?”
“I’m good, sweetheart. I’ll just watch the end of this documentary before bed.”
I squeeze his hand before I walk out into the kitchen with his caregiver.
“Your father is one of a kind, Demi,” she says. “Truly a beautiful, gentle soul. I’m not sure I could be quite as understanding in his condition.”
“Nor me,” I agree, switching the coffee pot on. “He inspires me every day.” I might not share his belief or his faith in a god who would do this to him, but the way he’s handled things since his stroke is genuinely admirable. I really do believe in positive mental attitude and my dad has that in spades.
“I filled that new script today,” she says, pointing at the clear plastic box on top of the counter. “And I divided it into the different days and times.” She opens the box, taking out a blue and a white tablet. “He’s to take these with water just before bed.”
I nod, taking them from her. “I’ll make sure he takes them.”
“And he now has to take those two green ones, in addition to his usual meds, after his breakfast.”
I bob my head. “Got it.” Mrs. Griffin arrives early on weekdays so I can leave for work, but I’m Dad’s primary caregiver over the weekends, so I need to be fully up to speed on this stuff.
“Okay, kiddo.” She presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m off. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you, Nora.” I hug her. “I mean it. Thank you for everything. We’re so lucky to have found you.”
When Dad was in the hospital, after his stroke, I had placed signs in a few local stores looking for a caregiver while I figured out what to do about school. Nora was the first woman to make contact, and I warmed to her immediately. Dad did too. And we both knew we didn’t need to interview anyone else. Her credentials were amazing, she lived locally, and we both just got a good feeling about her.
“It works both ways, honey,” she says, returning my hug. “I’m glad to have you and your dad in my life.” She shucks out of my embrace, tenderly brushing hair out of my face. “I consider you family, and I hope you know I’ll always be here for you.”
Because once Dad is gone, I’m all that’s left. Everyone else is dead.
She doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t have to.
Dad’s words return to me, and I suppose that’s something else Charlie and I have in common.
We’re both alone, because his dad is dead and his mom and sister have moved to Arizona, and, if the rumors are to be believed, he’s not on speaking terms with either of them.
But that is where the similarities end.
On this occasion, I think Dad is wrong, because Charlie and I are nothing alike—except for the mutual hatred we share for one another.
CHAPTER 3
Charlie
“We can always go back to my place if you’re not enjoying it here,” Emilia purrs in my ear while her hand inches higher up my thigh.
“We’re staying,” I grit out, removing her hand before she touches my dick. If she notices how grumpy I am tonight, she doesn’t mention it. I suspect she’s holding out hope I’m looking for more than casual fucking because I’ve called on her a lot more lately. It’s only because I’m low on options and too lazy to actively recruit new fuck buddies. But there isn’t a hope in hell she and I will ever be anything more.
In fact, after tonight, I think I’ll be crossing her off my list permanently. I’ve grown tired of fucking her, and she’s lost all appeal.
Strobe lights crisscross overhead as hypnotic beats bounce off the walls of the club. I’ve never been to this part of town before, and it’s my first foray in here, but I like it. It’s a far cry from the glitzy places I’m used to frequenting with the elite, but I like the industrial-type styling and the grungy vibe in the air.
The clientele is a strange bunch, and I’m sure this place has seen its fair share of fights and deals, but I’m cool with that. It’s tame compared to the shit I’ve seen at elite events and stuff I’ve been forced to participate in at Parkhurst.
“You seem jumpy,” Emilia adds, trailing her hands up my chest. Her long, blonde hair falls in straight lines across one shoulder as she repositions herself on the stool. “And you’re so tense.” She digs her fingers into the corded muscle of my shoulders, and I flinch, recoiling at her touch.
“Stop.” My face is a mask of indifference as I push her hands away. “Sit down, drink your drink, and only talk when I tell you to.” I’m being a total prick, but I don’t care. Her inane chatter is giving me a headache. I should’ve come here alone, but I’m not sure what to expect, and I thought she might come in handy.
Coming to this club was an impulsive decision. One I’m regretting. But I’m here now, so I might as well wait for Demi to arrive.
When I overheard her making plans to celebrate her birthday, I had no intention of showing my face. But I was climbing the walls at home, bored out of my skull, rattling around that large, empty house, and I craved a change of scenery.
I pull out my cell, discreetly checking the app, pleased to see she’s only a mile away.
Adding a tracking device to her private cell is a blatant invasion of her privacy and something that would land me in hot water with the board of directors if it ever got out. But this isn’t my first surveillance rodeo. I know how to cover my tracks, and there’s no way anyone could trace it back to me.
I told myself I installed it so I could fuck with her head a little more. However, she’d have to step outside her front door for me to mess with her, and the woman barely goes anywhere. Work and home are the sum of her existence, so tonight’s excursion intrigued me.
And I want a front-row seat to the action.
My cell pings in my hand, pulling me out of my head as a call comes through. My finger hovers over the mute button until I see the caller ID. Shit timing, but there’s no way I’m ignoring my little sister’s call. She’s only recently started talking to me again.