Nothing To Prove

17 My Little Goddess, That's What She Is

Ashton

"Hola! I would just like to report that it has been 48 hours since I've pooped, nobody here has talked to me or tagged me in the photos, BUT ON THE BRIGHT SIDE, I haven't set anything on fire. Yet."

I smiled at Sam's text.

"Talk slower, Ashton. Please, I can't keep up." My dad grumbled, swatting the flies from the patties on the smoking grill.

I sipped on my second cold beer. A ladybug was chilling on my black jeans and I could picture Sam's giddy shrill if she was here to witness it.

"Yurik! I think the dog has diarrhea. I can smell it from the kitchen!" My mom shouted out the window for all the neighbors to hear.

I burst out laughing at my dad's dry expression. "It's not shit, mom. It's dad's burgers."

"I'm sorry, is this my burger?" He pointed at the patties Sam bought for him. "When have you seen me eat vegan meat?"

"Oh, come on. I've had it before, it tastes the same." A total lie, I'd never touch that. "It's better for you, dad. You don't need more cholesterol. If that belly gets any bigger, I'm going to start calling you Santa."

My phone buzzed again. It was a picture from Sam with Cara and Luka by the pool in Joshua Tree. They went to an influencer event, which I could not (and didn't want to) go to.

"Is it Luka?" My nosy dad asked.

"Miss you, guys (except Cara). Sorry I can't be there because of work."

I zoomed in on Sam's pink bikini top, wishing to run my tongue right in between those squeezed boobies. Ugh, and grab the shit out of them. Shove my face in there and just⁠—

"...what if something happens to him?" he finished a lecture I was too distracted to listen to.

"Huh?"

"I said, why aren't you there, keeping an eye on him?"

"Who, Luka?" I smacked my lips. "Would you relax, he's not a kid anymore."

"You're just saying that so you can go bartend tonight. But when something happens to him, don't blame yourself⁠—"

"No, why would I? That's your job. You blame me enough already."

"Here we go..." He mockingly raised his brows like I was being dramatic.

"Here we go." I mimicked sarcastically. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. You're so bad at communicating, dad. The worst part is that you're too stubborn to admit it."

"Yeah, okay. It's easy to give advice on parenting when you don't have experience⁠—"

"Don't have experience?" I paused for him to take it back, but of course he didn't. "I'm sorry, who's been taking care of Luka since he was six?"

"Okay, okay. Don't start, Jesus. We asked you to do one⁠—"

I stood up abruptly to walk away, otherwise I'd break the beer bottle or punch the bar counter.

"Again you're losing your temper," he sighed. "Ashton, it's impossible to talk to you⁠—"

"Then don't talk. This is why I don't come over." I stormed off to go inside and say bye to mom.

Another text message from Sam made me pause.

"Don't worry at all! You're allowed to prioritize and do what's best for you. I completely understand. You're amazing, Ashton. And I appreciate you. Can't wait until we come home."