9
RHETT
She is perfect.
I sat on the hard plastic chair in my mom’s room and stared at Ash’s text, my insides going tighter than they had while trying to talk to my father about pulling the plug on the machine keeping his wife’s lungs inflating. Stoically reserved as always, he refused to budge past a stern “No.”
He hadn’t listened or responded to a goddamn word I’d spoken after that.
My stomach rotted from acid and too much coffee.
Add in that it seemed like my lover had found the woman of his dreams, and I struggled to keep feelings from rising to choke me out.
If my father knew half of the s**t tearing me in opposing directions, he would ridicule me like always, even though I’d done nothing but try to be supportive for whatever he might be going through.
I refused to be overrun
