Chapter 2-Too little Too late
743 Words
Ava's POV
Two weeks later, Dad found my apartment.
Of course, he did.
He was the President of the Razor Riders MC. Finding people wasn't exactly difficult for him.
He showed up with a couple of club brothers behind him.
The second I opened the door, I knew he was pissed.
“Why didn't you clear this with me, Ava?”
I leaned against the door frame.
“Clear what?”
“This.” He gestured toward my apartment. “Moving your ass out.”
“I'm eighteen, Dad.” Stating the obvious.
“You left without telling anyone!”
I stared at him.
“Who was I supposed to tell?”
His jaw clenched. So did his fist.
The man seemed to only interact with me. For more than two seconds. When He was showing me his anger.
“You have a family.”
I almost laughed.
“Okay.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“How long did it take you to realize I was gone?”
Dad went quiet.
That was answer enough.
“Did you notice when I didn't come home the first night?”
Nothing.
“The second?”
His jaw tightened.
“Did you notice I wasn't at dinner?”
I shook my head before he could answer.
“No. You wouldn't have.”
“Ava—”
“Except for Thanksgiving and Christmas, we haven't eaten dinner together in three years.”
One of the brothers behind Dad suddenly became really interested in the ground.
I wasn't yelling.
Didn't see the point.
That seemed to unnerve my father. With how calm I was.
“When was the last time you and I did something together?”
Dad stared at me.
Nothing.
“Do you know what I wanted to do after high school?”
Silence.
“Do you know who my friends are? Or if I even have friend?”
His face hardened.
Still nothing.
I nodded.
“That's what I thought.”
“The club above all!!” Dad finally said.
A small laugh escaped me.
“Yeah.”
I looked him directly in the eyes.
“I figured that out a long time ago.”
“Ava, that's not what I meant.”
“Isn't it?”
He didn't answer. Because he knew it was true.
I crossed my arms.
“Do you know when my birthday is?”
That pissed him off.
“You think I don't know my own kid's birthday?”
“When is it?”
“May eighteenth.”
I just stared at him.
Dad's confidence slowly disappeared.
“That's Cloe's birthday.”
His face changed.
I didn't tell him mine.
I didn't see the point.
“Don't worry about it.”
“Princess—”
“No.”
I stepped backward into my apartment.
“You don't have to pretend anymore.”
His brows pulled together.
“Pretend what?”
“That I'm an obligation you have to remember.”
“Ava—”
“I'm fine, Dad.”
Those words came easily.
I'd been saying them most of my life.
“I have a full scholarship. I have somewhere to live. I'm going to school. You don't have to worry about me.”
“I do worry about your ass.”
I looked at him.
Maybe he believed that.
Maybe somewhere underneath the club, Cloe, and everything else he'd made more important, he really did love me.
But love wasn't something I could see.
So it didn't really matter.
“Sure.”
Dad stepped back with that simple word.
The man turned and left.
I closed the door.
And that was pretty much it.
I went to college on a full-ride scholarship and eventually became a registered nurse.
Dad stopped trying.
Or maybe I stopped noticing whether he tried.
Mom sent the occasional text.
How are you?
Hope you're doing well.
I'd answer.
I'm good.
Work's good.
Thanks.
Nothing personal.
Nothing that gave her access to parts of me I'd learned to protect.
Cloe was different.
None of this was her fault.
She was five years younger than me. She hadn't chosen how our parents raised us any more than I had.
So when my baby sister called, I answered.
When she learned to drive, we'd occasionally meet for lunch.
I loved Cloe.
I never blamed her for being loved better.
I blamed the people who should've known how to love us both.
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