weight limit // L.H fanfiction

Chapter three

"Is that it?"

The last suitcase was now being wheeled down the driveway, ready for Charlie to place it in his trunk. Today he didn't have his blue and white police car, instead a black Ford sat in my driveway.

"Yea. It's the last one." I replied, handing him the extremely heavy case.

In just a few minutes we would be making our way to the airport. If that doesn't make me want to puke then the thought that in less than two hours I will be at my foster home will.

Coming up behind me, Charlie takes my hand before tugging it slightly, signaling me to follow him back into the house. The one place I did call home was now empty, no furniture, no pictures, on family. Only memories linger around here.

Leading me into the kitchen, he places his large hands on the counter, leaning in on it while looking out of the small window above the sink. He doesn't say anything, just stares at the scenery in front of him. The silence was getting uncomfortable so I decided to speak. Only as soon as I opened my mouth he took in a sharp breath.

"We found him." To say I was confused would be a huge understatement. Who does he mean by 'him'?

As if reading my mind, he replies. "We found out who your father is."

My mouth went dry, making it impossible for me to talk. How did they find him? Where is he? Who is he? I couldn't process one thing at at time, making everything hard to believe.

"Wha- who? How?" I rambled on, throwing random questions at him. Turning to me, his eyes don't find mind. The hold something, as if answering my questions would disappoint me. Honestly, it might.

After moments of watching him fight to find the right words, he finally gives me the information I've spent years to find out.

"His name is James Scott. He-"

"Wait. James Scott? The James Scott." There is no way in hell that he's my father.

He nods slowly, not looking me directly in the eyes.

"So, James Scott, record producer, billionaire, president of Majesty records is my father." I pace back and forth around the small kitchen, trying to process the shocking news. Of course there was no way in hell I was believing this load of crap. Again, he nods slowly, apparently the news didn't settle we'll in his mind either when first hearing it himself.

"Bullshit!" I spit at him.

"It's true. He even signed your birth certificate." Pulling out my information from a tan folder,, he slides it across the counter. Surely there it was, his name was scribbled across the paper beside the word 'father'. I began to get light headed, I needed to take a seat but no furniture was available so I found myself on the floor.

It's not everyday you find out your birth father is a billionaire. I was going to say something until a thought ran across my mind.

"He lives in Australia." The statement was meant only to be heard by me but Charlie caught it too. "Yea, so with that being said we need to get to the airport."

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Even while pulling my suitcase down through the security check, I wasn't believing anything. I was going to Australia, my father is famous, I'm pretty sure I'll crap my pants soon.

Even with this going on I could help but observe my surrounding. I've never been on a plane before, let alone been in an airport, this whole day has taken one hell of a turn. I could barely breath from the nervousness that shot through my body. Apparently, my hands were shaking because Charlie took them, squeezing tightly in his. I winced when he squeezed my right hand to tight, I still had the stitches which have yet to heal completely. I didn't know what I wanted to do, part of me wanted to cry, another part wanted to scream, and another art was on the verge of throwing up.