Secrets, Lies, and Summer Skies

Chapter Thirty-Six

I'd wanted to freeze a moment with Grayson, but this wasn't exactly how I'd hoped time would come to a screeching halt for either of us.

Grayson was the first to move. He snatched up the nearby blanket and wrapped it around my naked body. I snapped out of my stunned stupor and hugged the fabric around myself. There was no way to elegantly climb off Grayson's dick in front of my father, especially not when my body was rigid with shock. Luckily, the blanket gave us enough cover that Grayson could lift me just enough to pull out of me. As I stumbled off him and onto the couch, he tugged his sweatpants back up over his cock without giving much thought to taking off the condom first.

"Anthony–" he began.

"No."

Dad held up a hand to stop him. From the way he swallowed, I had to wonder if he was about to throw up. I wouldn't have blamed him if he had. I couldn't imagine being in his position. Walking in on my best friend and my daughter going at it without a single thought to my feelings. I'd be disgusted with us, too.

Still, the single syllable was enough to break my heart. It was clear that he wasn't about to listen to whatever explanation we had for our situation. If he'd asked what we thought we were doing, at least we might have been able to declare that we had feelings for each other. It wouldn't improve the situation all that much, but we'd have some small hope of being heard. That he'd cut Grayson off immediately didn't bode well. Neither did the fact that he turned on heel and stalked out of the room.

I looked up at Grayson, terror playing open across my face. I'd hoped for a reassuring word or a promise that it would all be okay, but it never came. All he could do was place his hand on my shoulder briefly and tell me, "Get dressed. Quickly."

Uncertain of how long Dad would be out of the room, I didn't bother with my bra or underwear. It was enough just to pull on my t-shirt and sweatpants to regain some small measure of decency. Not that I thought I'd ever have an ounce of that again around my dad. I knew the image of me riding Grayson on the couch would be seared into his mind until the day he died.

God, I felt so stupid!

At least if we'd been up in a bedroom, we'd have had some warning before he came in. We could've untangled ourselves and hidden the nature of our relationship until Dad was ready to have a sensible conversation about what'd been going on while he'd been in England. Sure, he'd still have been mad about it, but at least he wouldn't have needed to see us fucking.

I'd just straightened out my t-shirt when he walked back into the room, cellphone in hand. "You have five minutes to pack your shit and get the fuck out of my house!" Dad roared at Grayson. "Any longer than that, and I call the police and tell them you're trespassing on my property!"

"Dad!" I interjected. "You can't –"

Dad turned on me and warned, "Don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do in my own house, Chaise!"

"Hey, don't talk to her like that!" Grayson stepped forward and I was shielded behind his back, sheltered from my father's furious gaze. "If you want to be angry, I understand that. But you take it out on me, not her."

"Oh, I intend to," he seethed.

I couldn't remember ever seeing Dad angry.

Annoyed, yes.

Disappointed, certainly.

But so furious that I was frightened of him?

Never.

My father had always been my hero. The cuddly, goofy guy I looked up to and wanted to make proud of me. Whenever I needed someone, he'd been there for me, whether it was because I was heartbroken over some boy, because I'd had a spat with a friend, or simply because dealing with the world had become too much. No matter the reason, he'd always been there for me. The man standing before us felt like a stranger. He was an intimidating figure who practically vibrated with rage and indignation. This wasn't someone I could turn to when I was frightened or sad, he was someone who made fear snake around my spine until it was so constricted that I was paralyzed with the feeling.