Twisted Collide: The new sports romance in the Redville Saints series

It feels like I’m in prison.

While my father’s house is the nicest place I have ever been to, the walls feel like they’re closing in on me.

I’ve sequestered myself within the guesthouse for days, refusing to leave.

I freeze, realizing the source of my sour mood. It’s Sunday Date Night.

Growing up, my mom worked eighty hour weeks, yet she always managed to put aside Sundays for our mother-daughter date nights. Even if it meant switching shifts. Or missing out on overtime. Spaghetti, movies, online shopping for things we never bought. I miss it all.

On instinct, I press the first speed dial on my phone. It doesn’t even ring before I end the call, realizing what I almost did. I refuse to be the first to break.

I can’t be here anymore.

The air feels stale and stagnant. I can’t breathe, and to be honest, I ran out of food last night.

I’ll have no choice but to walk to the main house today. That is, unless I want to starve to death.

I wonder if I can order delivery to the backyard?

Nope. Not an option, considering my mom shut off my credit card and I have no money. Never mind that it’s a ridiculous idea to even think about.

The truth is, I’m pretty much up shit creek unless I square my shoulders, put on a brave face, and deal with the cards dealt.

They want to get to know me . . .

I have reservations about that. Why? Because I don’t know how to act.

How does one pretend they don’t have trauma from feeling abandoned by my father? I had to convince myself I was a product of science just to deal. The truth is, I didn’t convince myself of shit. I knew deep down all along but refused to acknowledge it. If Mom couldn’t, why did I have to?

I know the day will come when I have to be an adult and talk to him, but getting to know my estranged father is not how I want to spend the remainder of my summer. I’ve chosen to ignore the huge elephant in the room, and despite him asking if we can talk, I’ve brushed him off every time he’s tried. I’m being a baby, and I know this, but right now, being in a new place, I need to protect my heart.

Before I can second-guess myself, I walk to the guesthouse door and peer outside.

Just go.

The main house is far away. It doesn’t even feel like I’m on the same property.

If they wanted, they could rent this out to someone and never see that person. Kind of like me hiding out, a renter could easily go unnoticed for months. It feels disconnected.

It’s a good thing and a bad thing.

Good, because I don’t have to be confronted by real life, real life being I’m living on the property of two people I only met days ago, and one of those people is my biological father, who I have no relationship with.

Yet.

That little girl in me whispers, making promises she has no business making.

Promises of hope.

Of happiness with a father that I get the chance to know.

Josie, put your big girl pants on and get out of here.

I have to go to the main house. I can’t stay hidden forever. I’ve been lucky. Although I’ve started working for the Saints, my father has been on summer break, but that will end soon. The team will be back, and I’ll have no choice but to be around him.

The problem is, seeing my father makes me feel sick. My whole life feels like a lie, and it has everything to do with my mom. Why did she refuse to tell me about him? Why didn’t he come for me? He obviously knew about me, so where has he been?

The fear that he’ll reject me again is something I can’t shake.

I’m sure it has everything to do with my feelings of lack and worthlessness, and a couple of days, and the fact he did eventually “come for me” doesn’t erase all those years.

I reach my hand out and turn the knob. Taking a deep breath, I push it open.

The grass crunches under my flip-flops, and I just hope the rain from earlier doesn’t prove to have hidden muddy puddles. That would be my luck, showing up for the first time covered in mud.

The only problem with the location of the guesthouse is there’s no path or driveway leading to it, so if it rains, you’re basically shit out of luck.

It takes me a minute to make it up to the main house, and when I do, I open the back door which leads to the mudroom, head moving back and forth around the area, searching for signs of life. I find none. It’s quiet.

Maybe I’ll avoid the awkward run-in after all.

Since my shoes aren’t wet, I head straight for the kitchen.

As soon as I step inside, I regret my decision to come here. I’m met with the dark brown eyes of the woman married to my biological father.

“Josie!” She smiles so broadly I wonder if her cheeks hurt.

I give her a half smile. One that doesn’t lie. She probably sees how little I want to be here.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? Water? Something to eat?” I have to hand it to her, she’s really going for the doting mom feel. I hate it.

And I hate that I hate it because I don’t know if it’s about her or my issues with my own mom. If I really dig deep, I bet I’d find that it has everything to do with resenting how this stranger can be so kind when my mother never was. Sometimes she was.

I’ll dissect all my issues in private. I just need to get what I need and get out of here.

“I’m fine.” My voice is flat. I turn away from her, trying to decide whether I should leave the house or suck it up and stay in this kitchen while she’s here. It would be easier, but I also don’t want any more awkwardness.

Maybe what I really need to do is get to know her.

Would it really be that bad?

Despite the fact that I know there must have been a reason, and I should probably find it out, my heart hurts too much when I think about it. I’m not ready to forgive either one for their absence. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.

“You sure? You must be hungry.” Her voice cuts through the air, reminding me that I’m just standing here like an idiot, trying to decide my next move.

As if my body refuses to obey, my stomach chooses that exact minute to make the loudest gargling sound.

“Yeah, you’re hungry. Come on, Josie. Let me get you something.”

I pivot back around. “We don’t need to do this.”

Her eyes go wide, and she takes a step back. “Do what?”

“Serve me. Force a relationship you don’t want . . .” My chin dips, but I don’t miss the way her jaw trembles.

“I’m not pretending.”

“Then why did it take my father twenty-two years to ask to see me? Why now?” The words rush from me, and my cheeks heat, embarrassment taking root.

I never meant to say those things out loud.

“I’m sorry.” I sigh heavily. “I didn’t mean to unload on you.”

She takes a tentative step toward me, reaching out but pulling back, unsure what to do. “I’m serious, Josie. I want to know you. You’re part of this family.” She takes a deep breath. “Talk to your father. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Your mother lied to you.” Of course, she never said those words, but that’s what my brain concocts, and just like that, the anger surges.

“I’m good, but thanks.” I turn on my heel and rush back out the way I came. I know she’s watching me, probably thinking I’m an immature brat, but I don’t want her to see how broken I am.

I thought I was ready to know the truth, but I’m not.

My appetite is gone, and all I want to do is lock myself away. To be alone in my misery.

When I get back to the guesthouse, I start to pace. Hot tears prick my eyes, and then they fall.

I can’t be here.

I can’t care this much.

Yet I do.

The little girl who always wanted to know her dad cares.

Too damn much.