Tethered Hearts | ✓ | Books 1 & 2

Episode 33| Trying to Help

Sophia's P.O.V.

Low whispers came from the hallway connected to the main entrance. I was growing suspicious as to why Brooklyn was taking a while to come inside.

Getting up from my chair, I walked to where the talking was coming from. After turning the corner, I bit down on my tongue at the sight of my father – not Brooklyn – at the door.

I had imagined how this moment would've played out for years. I thought of how I would act after seeing my father, having gone four years without him there in my life. I had wishfully thought that I would be gleeful, happy at least at his unexpected appearance.

None of that occurred when I laid my eyes on him, struggling to get inside. A humming fury rattled inside the chambers of my heart, bubbling a stream of disdain in my body and riding through me like a raging current. I couldn't believe my own eyes. I was hoping it was a nightmare.

"What are you doing here?" I seethed.

My statement was brash, absent of the compassion my father was expecting when his eyes met mine.

Nic pushed at the door. "I think you should go."

"I need to speak to my daughter."

"This isn't a good time, Mr. De la Torres," Nicolas said, clinging to the door so it wouldn't open any more than it already was. "We just got here and –"

"I know that." My dad interjected. The crinkles around his eyes tightened. "What I also know is that your friend Lora is dead."

"She was murdered." I corrected. "And you only know that because of the news. You don't know anything I don't know."

"I do."

"I doubt that." I refrained from yelling at him. Yelling wouldn't make him leave any faster. "Nic was right. You should leave."

"I came to help." He elbowed the door, sending Nicolas back a few steps. "I can help a lot more than you think I can."

Nicolas rubbed his chest. "I'm going to call the police if you don't leave."

"She's my own flesh and blood." My dad snarled under his breath. "I'm allowed to speak to my own daughter."

"Not if I don't want to talk to you." I took two long strides, reaching the front door, and grabbed a hold of the door. "I want one thing from you and that is for you to leave. Please, can you leave me alone, Dad?"

Dad.

The word tasted so wrong, so unsatisfying coming from my mouth. He was, undoubtedly, my father for fourteen years before he got Rio hurt. But I had gone four years fatherless, which I couldn't easily dismiss as if it was nothing. Desertion isn't something you could wash off after only one conversation.

Those were the years I would've wanted him there the most, the transformation from adolescent to adulthood. I sought that guidance from my mother, but she was busy raising four kids on her own and keeping her business afloat.

Later on, that abandonment might only make up for a small fraction of my life, but it would be branded into my memory for a lifetime.

"Okay." My father retracted, crumbling from his defensive stance. "I'll go."

My fists relaxed, flattening against the back of my jeans. "Thank you."

Nicolas closed the door, locking it the moment it was shut. We both let out a held in sigh, releasing it as my dad's footsteps faded away.

"That was kind of crazy." Nicolas said. "You don't think...he was serious about helping, do you?"

"No, I don't. He was trying to find an excuse to talk to me. The man is insane."