The Fling (18+)

Chapter 29

Sitting in the very back row of Bruce Warner's Range Rover, I stared daggers at the back of my father's head. Seated in the row ahead of me, he hadn't shut up since we'd left the cabin.

Meanwhile, Jessica remained silent next to him, and my eyes couldn't stop seeing the bruises on her arm. Her concealer lay in my carry-on bag, nestled next to my two-piece swimsuit and a tube of sunscreen.

"...are you running Bay-to-Breakers this year?" Up in the front seat, Adam found a narrow pause in Dad's rambling to ask Bruce a question.

"Every year - I wouldn't miss it."

From the back, I said, "I wouldn't have pegged you as a runner."

Bruce's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, "Oh, yeah. Ever since I was young - I wasn't much for team sports, but Track and Field? Cross Country? Couldn't get enough of them."

In the row ahead of me, Jessica looked up, "Really? Me too."

Something sparked in Bruce's expression, but I didn't get to hear his reply.

"I never could get into running," Dad announced, "All that sweating, and for what?"

In the rearview mirror, I saw a flash of annoyance cross Bruce's gaze, "Well, personally, I've seen some of the most beautiful vistas along running trails. Sure, it's not great for the knees, but those are replaceable, right?"

Adam laughed, and I saw a sneaky smile on Jessica's lips.

Dad didn't seem so amused, "I'll always remember my senior year of high school, our football team..."

I tuned him out. I'd heard the saga of his high school glory days often enough to recite it from memory.

On my phone, I found a new message. Opening it, I saw that Mom had sent, "Hey, checking in: How's it going?"

Sparing a glance at my father, I typed, "Good. It's raining, so we're headed for a spa today. Dad's going to fuck up this deal if he doesn't shut his goddamned mouth."

"Nora, he's still your father."

"He's a pompous asshat who put his hands on Jess."

Three dots appeared.

"He what?"

"Apparently, he grabbed her while they were arguing. She's got a bruise in the shape of his hand."

A second passed, then-

"That fucker."

My eyebrow rose, "What happened to 'He's still your father'?"

"Does she need help?"

"Jess?"

"The infant he married - does she need help getting out?"

Eyes darting to the 'infant' in question, I replied, "She's defending him. Like, 'he didn't mean it' and 'I bruise easily' - that kind of shit."

"Well, that's textbook."

"Yeah." I grimaced, "I can't tell if she's being serious or hiding how bad it actually is."

"Probably somewhere in between."

Biting my lip, I asked, "What should I do?"

"There's not much you can do. Let her know that you're there for her, and hope she asks for help if she needs it."

A question popped into my head, and I hesitated before typing, "Was he like this when he was married to you?"

"...he never hurt me, but I don't find it hard to believe that he could."