Glass Heart Hero: A Dark High School Romance by Lindsey Iler (free ebook reader for iphone .TXT) 📕

“Is all for show. Trust me, there aren’t many happy memories in this place,” I quip, surprised by the sadness I feel from that reality.

Breaker reaches for my hand, and I happily put mine in his.

“Oh, honey. I’m surprised to see you.”

“What are you doing here, Mom?” She hugs me, forcing me into her arms. Breaker’s hand slides from mine, and he moves away. “No, seriously, Mom. What’re you doing here?”

“Your mother and I had plenty to discuss.” My father glides into the room with an arrogance that is palpable. His eyes narrow on Breaker. “And who is this?”

“I’m Bre—” He catches himself. “Barrett Davenport.”

“As in the Davenport Foundation?” my mother asks, a willingness to dote on him crossing her face. “They’re doing great things over there.”

“We’re trying.”

“We’re?” My father’s question is clear. Who is this kid?

“Yes, I will be in charge of the foundation after graduation, if I wish,” Breaker answers.

“Seems like a whole lot to place on a kid’s shoulder.” My father tsks.

“It was my mother’s, sir. It’s the only legacy we have of her, so it’s never too much to keep her spirit alive through the work we do.”

“And what kind of work is that?” My dad challenges.

“What’s with the third degree?” I question, instantly defending Breaker.

“If you bring a new boy home, I’m in my right to know who he is and what he stands for, especially when I expect to see you with Tripp.” The undertone of anger and disappointment in his voice is loud and clear.

“If you like Tripp so much, Dad, why don’t you fuck him instead?” I blurt.

“Delaney.” My mom’s eyes widen at the tone I’m taking with him.

“What?” I shrug. “I think I’ve made it awfully clear that Tripp and I aren’t going to be a thing like Daddy has pictured.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, young lady,” Dad scolds me, then glares at my mom. She’s flipping her hands around while she berates him, and he blames her for my attitude.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” I interrupt their bickering. It’s like a flashback from my childhood. “Can you two stop?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Mom cups my face and kisses my cheek before heading for the door. “We’re done here anyway. I have nothing else to say to your father. Call me, and we’ll catch up.”

Catch up? I’m not one of her girlfriends. I’m her daughter. I give my dad the sweet, daddy’s girl smile. He softens in a flash. Works every time.

“Are you two managing to get along?”

“I gave her the Lake Tahoe cabin, so what do you think?” He rolls his eyes and heads towards his office, pausing to glare at Breaker’s hand in mine. “You will come speak to me, Delaney.”

There’s a difference between speaking to someone and someone speaking at you. My father has mastered the skill of talking at me my entire life. If he asks me to jump, I’m expected to ask how high. If I’m not behaving in a way he finds acceptable, I will hear about it. He has dictated many decisions in my life. That stops today.

“You going to be okay in there?” Breaker offers me a sad smile.

“He’ll probably tell me how disappointed he is in me. More than likely, Tripp’s name will be laced throughout the conversation. I’ll be fine, though. He’s my father.” I shrug and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “My bedroom is the one at the top of the stairs. Wait for me there, and try not to get into too much trouble, okay?”

Walking to my father’s office feels like a drop down the plank of a pirate ship. Knives poke at me, but what worries me most, are the sharks at the bottom, waiting to snap at my feet to teach me a lesson. Gary Chambers is a great white, and I’m his prey.

The office door creaks as I open it. Behind the desk, my dad sits with his hands folded together, and a look of disappointment I’m too accustomed to at this point in my short life.

“Sit,” he commands.

Once I’m in the chair across from him, I fidget with my clothes, smoothing my blouse. You must always look presentable may as well be written on our family crest. Appearances are everything. His incessant need to have me come home after the “incident,” his words not mine, makes a lot more sense when I think about them through the lens of my new knowledge.

“You need to focus, Delaney. You’re throwing your entire life away,” he scolds, grabbing a pen and scrolling it over a piece of paper.

I hear the familiar sound of a check being torn from the perforated seam. The small paper lands between the two of us. He flicks it around, silently telling me I better grab it.

My eyes skim the barely dry ink. “What’s this for?”

“Call it motivation. Call it whatever you want, but it’s yours.” He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning into the leather of his chair.

“What are the conditions?” I swallow the thick lump in my throat.

“Well, sweetie”—he gets up and circles the desk, leaning on it in front of me—“I suggest you fix things with Mr. DuPont, quickly. He doesn’t want a whore for a wife, so traipsing around with another boy will not serve you.”

“Right, and if I don’t?” My eyes take inventory of the zeros. That’s a lot of money.

“If you don’t, then as always when you disobey me, there will be consequences.” He shakes his head, a clear show of his disapproval. “No husband will tolerate your love for disobeying authority.”

“Does my future stepmom know your archaic views on marriage?” I poke.

“Bridgette is well aware of the man she’s marrying. You should take some tips from her.”

“I’d rather listen to my mother, who was smart enough to leave your ass when you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, Dad.” The sting is the first thing I feel, followed immediately by regret. I cup my cheek, hiding the pink handprint.