ZOE
After arguing with Dad and talking about a lot of things which includes ‘ Do I really need to die for you to come home?’ --- I am officially the bd daughter, but I guess he’s kinda happy to see me.
“Absolutely not!” Preston thundered, pacing in front of me like a general strategizing his next move. His jaw was set, his arms crossed, and that vein in his forehead? It was working overtime tonight.
I leaned against the kitchen counter, lazily swirling a glass of water. “God, Preston, do you even hear yourself? You sound like Dad, except somehow more controlling. And Dad at least pretends to be charming.”
“You’re not funny,” he snapped, leveling me with a glare.
“You’re not Dad,” I countered, raising my glass in a mock toast.
“Doesn’t matter,” he shot back. “You’re not sleeping in
