"Say something, Tasha. What happened? I can guess, but I want to hear it from you. You haven't said a word—just sniffles and tears," Milton frowned as he pulled into my driveway.
I stared at my hands, unable to meet his gaze. All I could think about was how right he'd been.
"Thank you for driving me," I finally whispered, my voice breaking.
I stepped out of the car, wrapping my arms around myself in the hoodie Isla had lent me. It smelled faintly of her perfume, comforting in a strange way. I walked to the porch, pausing to glance back at Milton's car before taking a shaky breath.
The house was dark, the heavy drapes drawn over the windows. But as soon as I unlocked the door and stepped inside, the living room light flicked on.
"Pa," I murmured, seeing my father sitting in his armchair, his face tight with anger.
"Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice low but edged with warning.
"I... I was with Milton," I stuttered, my voice trembling.
"I waited for you all night," he said, standing and taking a step toward me. "You know your curfew, Tasha. Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
I flinched, biting my lip to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. "I'm sorry," I whispered.
He stopped in front of me, shaking his head. His anger softened slightly, but then he leaned closer and sniffed the air.
"Did you drink alcohol?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Yes," I admitted, my voice barely audible.
His frown deepened. "I knew it. I was worried the moment you started spending time with that Emmett boy. You weren't missing curfew or drinking before him."
"That's not fair," I snapped, scowling through the tears that now freely rolled down my cheeks.
"I don't want you seeing him anymore," he said sharply, his tone final.
"You don't have to worry about that," I said coldly, my voice hollow. "He doesn't want to see me. And I don't want to see him either."
My father sighed, his anger melting away. He pulled me into a tight hug, and for a moment, I let myself crumble. This was what I needed—a safe place, someone who loved me unconditionally.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
"No," I said, barely above a whisper. "I'm just going to go to my room."
I slipped out of his arms and climbed the stairs, my body heavy with exhaustion. Once in my room, I curled up on my bed, the weight of everything crashing down on me.
I had become just another name on Emmett's list of conquests. I had wanted so badly to believe I was different, that I meant something to him. His nickname for me, the way he listened to my stories, the way he smiled at me—it had all felt real. But it wasn't.
Three words. That's all it took. He said he loved me, and I gave him everything.
And now, I was nothing to him.
I buried my face in my pillow and cried until my chest ached. I didn't eat. I didn't move. His words replayed in my mind over and over, like a cruel loop I couldn't escape.
I knew I was being ridiculous. We hadn't even gone on a date. We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend. But that didn't make the pain any less real.
Sunday passed in a blur, and I dreaded going to school on Monday. I knew Emmett would be fine, acting like nothing had happened, while I would be falling apart.
I decided I'd fake being sick. I couldn't face him—not yet.
A loud thud on the stairs broke through my thoughts, and then my bedroom door slammed open. Light from the hallway spilled in, and I turned to see Milton standing there, arms crossed and breathing hard.
"Tasha Rene Hill," he huffed.
I turned away, burying my face in my pillow.
"Babes," he said, his voice softer now.
He climbed onto the bed, pushing me over so he could lie beside me. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he rested his chin on my shoulder and rubbed my arm gently.
It had been years since we'd been in this position—since my mom left. His presence was comforting, grounding.
"He slept with you," Milton said quietly.
I bit my lip, staying silent.
"He told me he loved me," I whispered, my voice breaking.
Milton tensed behind me. "And?"
I rolled over to face him, sitting up and hugging my knees. He mirrored my posture, taking my hands in his and giving me an encouraging nod.
"He said it was a mistake. That he doesn't do feelings. That he was drunk," I choked out, the words spilling from me like poison.
I collapsed against Milton's chest, sobbing. He stroked my hair, whispering soothing words. Then he cupped my face, tilting it up so I had no choice but to look at him.
"He's a fucking asshole," Milton said, his voice trembling with anger. "He doesn't deserve you. He led you on and then had the nerve to blame it on being drunk? I swear, I'll kick his ass."
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "Don't. I don't want that. I should've listened to you. I never should've talked to him."
Milton sighed, wiping my tears away with his sleeve. "You see the good in people, T. That's one of the things I love about you. Don't let some high school jock ruin that. You're the reason I gave Kyle a chance, remember? If it weren't for that Thai drama you made me watch..."
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "You would've ended up with him anyway, but... thank you."
"Now," he said, standing and pulling me to my feet, "let's get you something to eat. Your dad says you're grounded, but he picked up dinner. Come on."
I followed him downstairs, still wearing my oversized sweatshirt and pink pajama shorts.
My dad and Connor were already at the table, and Milton guided me to a seat beside him. As I ate, surrounded by my family, I felt a small spark of hope.
Things would get better. Tomorrow would be a new day.
Emmett Pierce wouldn't be the end of my world. From this moment on, he would be invisible to me.