Firefly by Krystyna Allyn

Author:Krystyna Allyn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Heart Eyes Press LLC

13

Life Lesson

Trevor

The drive to the dive bar on the outskirts of Colebury is a short and direct route. However, knowing what I’m in for makes me consider taking the long way. For the fourth time in the past three months, I’m tasked to rescue him from a possible public drunkenness arrest. I was so tempted to let my father work his problems out and finish my date with Melody, but the thought of my mother picking up my dad in a place like this ratchets my anger to an entirely new level.

By now, I should be used to my father interrupting my life with his issues, but tonight was special. Melody and I were connecting. Hell, she was opening up to me even more. Unfortunately, she and I aren’t at a point where she’s convinced herself to shut me out. Melody proved that fact when I mentioned my leaving. In many ways, she’s strong and independent. Still, I sense this vulnerability she tries and fails to hide.

The second I walk through the door, my eyes meet Rich’s. A lifelong Colebury resident, I’m always friendly with him. He returns the favor by not calling the cops whenever my dad is in a mood.

“Where is he?” I fight hard to keep my tone even instead of shouting my demand. It’s not his fault my dad’s a drunk.

“In the bathroom.” He points to the back. “But, Trev—” I hold a silencing finger up and follow the length of the bar to the restroom. Rich won’t take it personally because he knows I’ve had it up to here with this crap.

I walk down the short corridor with dread, hoping I don’t find him passed out on the floor like last time. Once I open the bathroom door, I find my dad splashing water on his face, his formerly blond hair disheveled just like his clothing.

“Son, I’m sorry.”

“Save it. Did you settle the tab?” He shakes his head. “Of course, you didn’t. Wash the vomit off your shirt and meet me at the front.” I don’t have to wait for him to agree because he has no choice.

When I return to the bar, I’m furious. Yet again, I keep my anger in check.

“How much does he owe this time?” Rich gives me that I feel sorry for you, look. Well, I don’t want his fucking pity. “The drinks?” I snap, some of the rage escaping my mental barrier.

“Two hundred.” He pauses, and it’s then I know I’m screwed. “And seven hundred for the damage.” He motions to the broken stools and glasses swept in the corner, a broom leaning against the wall. I nod, thankful it’s only two stools. My father is a violent drunk, his anger geared toward inanimate objects instead of people.

I hand him my credit card, the whole time staring at the hallway my father now occupies. He walks toward the bar but stops when I point at the exit. When his eyes meet my glaring ones, he turns and walks in the direction I indicated.

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