Sadie (18+)

Chapter 29

Vincent must have accidentally fallen asleep; he was beside me with a hand resting on his broad chest, snoring softly. I propped my head up with my elbow and watched him for a moment, intrigued. What was he dreaming about?

The clock on the bedside table indicated that it was nearing one in the afternoon; we still had two hours before Julia would be home from school, and then another two before Gina's arrival.

I should wake him, but I couldn't—he looked too peaceful, too handsome. Instead, I listened to his breathing and watched his chest rise and fall in the afternoon light.

The peace had been interrupted shortly after by a car horn, in which Vincent stirred, his eyelids fluttering open.

"Shit," he grumbled, sitting up and palming his eyelids. "What time is it?"

"You're fine," I said quietly, stretching my limbs under the comforter. "It's one."

He turned to look at me, and the events from earlier seemed to have registered on his face. He tiredly dragged a hand over his complexion. "Are you feeling better?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I think so. My stomach still feels a little weird."

"Are you surprised? That's what happens when you irresponsibly drink," he said flatly, the father in him immediately returning, his expression now cold and distant.

I sat up and swallowed hard, sensing the rising and suffocating tension. "I know, I don't need to hear it—"

He interrupted me. "Actually, you do. If something were to happen to you, Gina and I would be to blame. You're under our care, even if it's not in writing."

I scratched the back of my head, unsure of what to say. A steady warmth rose to my cheeks.

"You don't have to be so harsh," I said quietly. "I know I screwed up."

"Sadie, this isn't 'screwing up'," he said. "You've done this on multiple occasions under our roof. You're acting like an alcoholic."

"Don't you dare call me that," I sputtered, defensive. "You have no right."

"I found you at a park," he countered, "covered in puke and dirt. You could have choked and died, do you realize that?Someone could have called the police on you for drinking in public."

I felt tears prick my eyes as I stared down at my lap, unable to summon a response as the shame blanketed me.

"Not to mention you were alone and passed out. Someone could have easily taken advantage," he said carefully, his hazel eyes awaiting my reaction. "That doesn't concern you?"

"What the hell do you care?" I spat, rising from the bed and brimming with a dangerous hostility. "You just don't want to get in trouble. If I want to screw up my life, that's on me."

"That's not true, Sadie. It's not just about that. I care about you, I always did. This is a dangerous path to follow—"

I couldn't keep back the words that tumbled out of me. "Bullshit. You just wanna fuck me."

Vincent's face contorted in astonishment. His mouth opened but words refused to surface. I stood there, arms crossed, heart thumping in a scattered manner.

I wasn't used to being reprimanded; my mother was irrational and emotionally absent during my childhood, a time when I needed it most. This, of course, translated horribly, especially now when I simply couldn't stand to hear Vincent lecture me about my choices and any possible repercussions.

"So what about before we started all of this?" he asked, gesturing wildly between us. "I didn't care about you then, either? The middle school sleepovers, the carpooling to soccer practice, the time I cleaned up your knee when you slipped on the side of the pool?"