Eclipsed: A High School Bully Romance (Del Sol High Book 3) Page 7

  Relief washes over me. I am terrified that she'll think I'm making up some crazy ass story and that I just want things from her father. It feels like a giant weight gone from my chest when she says this.

  “We should go talk to him,” she says.

  “What?” I take a step backward. “No, no, that's not why I was telling you. I just...I don't know. I just thought I should tell you before I did anything else.”

  “Well, what else were you gonna do?” she asks. “You can do two things. Call your mom and ask her or talk to him. Right?”

  “I guess. I just meant that I didn't want you to feel like you have to do anything,” I say. “That's not why I told you. I just thought you needed to know in case I did talk to him. I…I don’t want to keep things from you. I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.”

  “He's at work right now,” she says. “We can totally go talk to him at his office.”

  My stomach knots. I'm not prepared to go have a conversation with her dad. I'm still trying to process the idea that he might be my father.

  But I actually don't have a good reason to not go talk to him.

  And she’s not about to give me one.

  “Come on,” she says. Her voice is firm.

  Still, I hesitate. “Are you sure you're okay with that?”

  “Hell yes I'm okay with it,” she says. “I wanna know the answer, too.”

  “Will he talk to us?”

  Mercy grabs her bag off the hood of the car and digs out her car keys, then looks at me. “He's not gonna have a choice.”

  Chapter 20

  “Do you think that's why?” Mercy asks.

  We're in her car, heading to her dad's office. The radio is on and the A/C is pumping cool air at me, but I’m hyper-focused on where we’re going and what might happen.

  “Do I think what's why?” I ask.

  “Do you think that's why we hit it off so fast?” she says, glancing at me. “And became friends. Because we're sisters?”

  I smile and shake my head. “I have no idea. I hadn't thought of that. I mean, I guess? But I know there are lots of sisters who don't like each other, too. So I'm really not sure.”

  “I'm like two months older than you, right?” she asks.

  I nod, remembering when her birthday is. “Yeah, think so.”

  “I totally would've bossed you around,” she says, laughing. “I mean, I totally would've. That would've been so me.”

  I laugh again. “We probably would've fought a ton.”

  She nods. “Oh yeah. Definitely. But we also could've had slumber parties in our rooms and done each other's hair and walked to school together.” She pauses. “That would've been nice.”

  I nod. “Yeah. I was always alone as a kid. Always.”

  “I just always wanted a sister,” she says. “Maybe I knew I had one.”

  “Maybe,” I tell her. “Did your dad ever talk much about high school?”

  She comes to a stop at a red light and shakes her head. “Not really. I mean, here and there and, honestly, I probably wasn't paying attention. Why would I have cared much about his old stories?” She glances at me. “Why?”

  I shrug. “I don't know. Just wondering if he ever mentioned old girlfriends or anything like that.”

  She thinks for a moment. “Not that I remember. But I really might not have been listening, you know?”

  I nod. I wished I had memories of my mom trying to tell me about her high school years. The time she ever wanted to talk—about anything—were few and far between, and most of the time it was when she was completely hammered.

  Turns out I didn’t like to talk to her during those times.

  The light turns green and Mercy eases us away from the intersection.

  “Is your dad gonna be weirded out that we're just showing up?” I ask.

  “You mean, is he gonna be weirded out that his maybe long-lost daughter he didn't know he had is showing up at his office with the daughter he's always known?” she asks. “I'd say there's a good chance that all might weird him the fuck out.”

  I laugh because the way she just lays it out like that makes it all sound like a bad movie.

  “What?” she says with a laugh. “It's all true.”

  “I know,” I tell her. “It's just bizarre to hear you say it all like that.”

  “He won't mind that we're showing up at his office,” she says. “If you're worried about that, don't be. I stop by semi-regularly. It won't be weird showing up unannounced.”

  I take a deep breath and try to steady my nerves. I look out the window. This is definitely not where I thought I'd be this afternoon.

  “How would your mom feel about all this?” I ask.

  “Good question,” Mercy answers. “I don't really know. I mean, how can you predict something like that? If my dad is your dad and he didn't know, then it's not his fault. She can't be mad at him for something like that, especially if it happened before they were together. She might be shocked or confused or whatever, but if my dad really didn't know, I don't see how she could freak on him.”

  I hope she's right. I don't want to be the source of any problems between her parents. From what she’s said, they have a good relationship.

  The last thing I want is to be a source of conflict.

  Mercy turns into a parking lot in front of a three-story, rectangular building. It's made entirely of glass, making the front of it look like a giant mirror.

  She pulls into a parking spot and turns the car off. “This is it. He's up on the third floor.”

  I nod, but don't say anything.

  “Don't be nervous,” she says, touching my arm. “It'll be okay.”

  I look at the building, squinting at the sun shining off of the facade.

  I really hope she's right.

  Chapter 21

  “Well, this is a very pleasant surprise,” Mr. King says. He comes around his desk, kisses Mercy on the cheek, and smiles at me. “Nola. It's a pleasure to see you. It's been a while.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Nice to see you, too.”

  “Sit,” he says, gesturing at the chairs in front of his desk. “You guys want something to drink?”

  “I'm okay,” I say as I sit down. “But thank you.”

  “Yeah, I'm fine, too,” Mercy says, sitting down next to me.

  Her dad eases into the big chair on the other side of the desk and smiles at us. His office is tastefully decorated, with mahogany furniture and tasteful art on the walls. A low bookshelf positioned behind him and in front of the window displayed an assortment of family photos.

  “So, what’s up with the surprise visit? It's nice to see you both, but Mercy normally acts like I work on a different planet and has zero interest in coming to the office.”

  “That's not true,” Mercy says.

  He raises an eyebrow in her direction.

  “Okay, maybe it’s a little true,” she admits.

  He chuckles. “I'm just teasing. I wouldn't have gone to visit my dad at work, either.” He leans back in his chair and folds his hands across his stomach. “So, what's up?”

  Mercy looks at me.

  My hands are shaking and I tuck them under my legs to make them stop. “I...um...well I had a question for you.”

  “Really?” he says, surprised. “For me? Okay.”

  He looks very much like the guy in his senior year photo, just maybe a bit more gray in his hair and a few wrinkles around his eyes. His smile is friendly and warm. He would not be the worst dad in the world to have.

  “I was wondering if...you knew my mother,” I ask. “When you were in high school. Here in Del Sol.”

  He tilts his head to the side. “That's going back a ways. Your mom was Colleen Murphy, correct?”

  I nod.

  He smiles. “Sure. I knew Colleen. We had friends that ran in the same circles even though we didn’t go to the same high school. We hung out a little bit.” He chuckles. “I seem to recall a few nights we were both down at the beach. Probably d
oing the same things you guys do down there.” He holds a hand up. “And don't tell me what you do because I don't want to know.”

  My fingers dig into the bottoms of my thighs. “But you did know her?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he says. “Lost track of her after high school, but we were friends.” He gives me a sympathetic smile. “I know the little bit that Mercy has told me seems to indicate she's had a rough go of it. And so have you. I'm sorry.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “Were you guys good friends?”

  He thinks for a moment, then nods. “I think we were. I mean, we didn't have phones like you guys do now, so there was no texting or Snapchatting or whatever you guys do. But we were friends, sure.”

  I look at Mercy.

  She nods.

  I look at her dad. “Did you ever date?”

  “Your mother?” He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “No, I don't think we went out on any dates, just the two of us. Sometimes we were out in groups or hanging out at the bonfires on the beach.” He chuckles. “Some of those nights are a little clearer than others, of course.”

  “But you didn't date or anything like that?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No, don't think so.”

  I look at Mercy. She nods, encouraging me.

  I look at her father again. “I'm not sure how much you know about me, but my mom raised me as a single parent. We weren't...in touch with my father. I never knew him, and he was never in my life.”

  His mouth moves from a smile to something that looks closer to a grimace. “I'm sorry. That had to be difficult for the both of you.”

  “I never knew any different,” I tell him. “So it was normal.” I pause. “But I recently found out his real name. His first name, anyway, and a couple of other details about him.”

  He nods, but seems unsure where I'm headed. “Ah. I see. And, now you’re going to attempt to locate him? Contact him?”

  “I think so,” I tell him. “It's all happening kind of fast.”

  He nods again. “Sure.” He looks at Mercy, then back to me. “Well, if I can be of any help, I'd be happy to do so. Though I'm unsure of what that might be.”

  “Dad, did you sleep with Nola's mom?” Mercy blurts out. “Did you guys hook up or anything when you knew here?”

  He straightens in his chair and the faintest bit of pink colors his face. “What?”

  “Did you have sex with her mom?” Mercy says.

  He looks bewildered.

  “I found out his name was Jay,” I tell him.” And he played football. And he didn't go to Del Sol. I was looking through some old Sun Valley yearbooks today. And I saw your picture. And your name. You went to Sun Valley. You played football. Your name is Jay.” I pause. “And you knew her.”

  He stares at me for a long moment, then blinks, as if everything is now clicking into place for him. He clears his throat. “So, you're wondering if I'm your father?”

  I hesitate, then nod. “Yes. You were the only person I've been able to find so far that fits all of the details I know about him. The name. Football. Not going to Del Sol, but being from here.”

  He nods slowly, listening. He doesn't seem upset or angry, which I'm relieved to see.

  He clears his throat again. “Right. Well, I guess that all makes some sense then. Why you're asking me, I mean.” He smiles at me and shakes his head. “But it's not me. I'm sorry.”

  It's like a small nail in my heart.

  It's not me.

  “Are you sure, Dad?” Mercy asks. “I mean, it all really makes sense.”

  “I'm positive,” he says, nodding. “Nola, I did know your mother and I would definitely say that we were friends. But there's no possible way I'm your father. We...never had that kind of relationship.” He gives me the sympathetic smile again. “I'm sorry, but it's not me.”

  I'm doing my best not to let my shoulders sag, but it's hard. I feel like the wind has been taken out of my sails and then someone actually slashed the sails, too. I'd gotten my hopes up far too high driving over here with Mercy. She liked the idea of her father being mine. I'd let myself get carried away that this was all going to be easy and simple and that I’d get a happily ever after from the digging Ricky and I had done. One small victory after a monumental stream of losses.

  But I should've known better.

  “You're positive?” Mercy asks.

  He gives his daughter a look. “Yes. I'm positive. Nothing like that ever happened.” He looks at me. “Your mom and I never had a relationship like that, Nola. I'm sorry.”

  “It's okay,” I say. “It's fine.”

  I'm not, but it's not his fault.

  “But, Nola,” he says.

  I look at him.

  He starts to say something, then stops. He puts a finger to his lips, thinking. Then he looks at me again. “I do remember a guy that your mother did date. And I'm positive his name was Jay, too.”

  It takes me a second to understand what he's saying. “You do?”

  He nods. “Yes. The more I'm thinking about it, I'm certain of it. I haven't thought about it in years, so it didn't dawn on me right away. But I know that she dated someone named Jay.” He thinks for a moment, squinting, like he's trying to see something. “There was one night where someone thought I was that Jay. They thought your mom and I were together. Sort of what your thinking was. And I ended up having to explain that I wasn't the right guy.” He waves a hand in the air. “That part doesn't matter. But there was another Jay.” He snaps his fingers. “And I know he was a football player. The person who had us confused asked me what position I played. I played defensive end, but her Jay was a wide receiver, and that was how they realized I wasn't the right guy.” He nods, affirming his own memory. “I remember that clear as day.”

  Some of the wind that left my sails returns and I feel slightly better.

  “Do you remember his last name?” I ask.

  He thinks, then shakes his head. “I don't. I think I only met him once or twice. I must've played against him, but I don't recall every hearing his last name. I'm sorry.”

  Mercy reaches over and squeezes my arm.

  “That's okay,” I say. “At least it's something.”

  “Do you remember what school he played at?” Mercy asks.

  He shakes his head. “No, but I would think that it had to be a school in the area because Colleen went to see him play. So it's not like he was far away or anything like that. It would've had to have been a nearby school.” He looks at me. “I can ask some of the guys I played with if they might remember.” He pauses. “And I can do it in a way that won't be obvious.”

  He's being incredibly kind and I can't help but wish he were the right Jay. But, of course, my mother never would've had the good sense to sleep with a nice guy like Jay King. With my luck, it was going to be someone else who was in jail like she was.

  “That's okay,” I tell him. “I don't want to trouble you.”

  “It wouldn't be any trouble at all,” he answers. “I'd be happy to do it.”

  I sigh. “Okay. That would be great. And...what you said, about not making it obvious... If you're able to do that, I would appreciate it.”

  He nods. “Of course. I can't promise you anything, but I can certainly ask around a little bit.”

  I push myself out of the chair and stand. “Thanks. And thanks for listening to all of this. I didn't mean for us to take up so much of your time.”

  “Not a problem at all,” he says. “I'm sorry I don't have the answers for you.”

  I nod at him.

  I'm not sure I'm ever going to find the answers.

  Chapter 22

  The car from Mercy's dad's office back to school is quiet. I chew on my nails most of the way and Mercy looks at me several times, but doesn't say anything.

  The parking lot at school is nearly empty when she pulls in next to my car.

  She turns the engine off and looks at me. “I'm sorry.”

  “For what?” I ask. “You took me
to your dad's and he was totally cool about answering questions. There's nothing to be sorry about.”

  “I'm sorry he's not your dad,” she says. “I'm sorry we're not sisters.”

  I force a smile. “That would've been cool. And bizarre.”

  She returns the smile. “Yeah. Both of those things.”

  “But you're lucky,” I tell her. “He's a really nice person. He could've been weird about the whole thing or thought it was stupid or whatever. But he didn't.”

  She nods. “Yeah. He is. I probably take that for granted.” She pauses. “Are you okay?”

  I shrug. “I don't know. I really don't know what I am right now.”

  “My dad will ask around,” she says. “And he won't just blurt out why. You don't have to worry about that.”

  “I know,” I tell her. “I trust him. It's nice of him to do it. I'm just not sure it'll change anything.” I shake my head. “This all just feels like I'm wasting my time. And I'm not even sure why I'm doing it.”

  That’s what I've been thinking about the most, driving back from her father's office. Why do I care? If I don't want anything from this person who was nothing more than a sperm donor, then what does it matter if I know who he is or if I meet him? I'm having trouble answering that question for myself.

  “What are you going to do now?” Mercy asks.

  “Drive home.”

  She laughs. “I mean about all of this. The other Jay. Your father.”

  “I don't know,” I tell her. “I'm sort of exhausted now and I feel like I need to clear my head. So I guess I'll just go home and try to do that.”

  “Okay,” she says. “If my dad finds anything out, I'll call you.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Thanks.”

  “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  I’m tempted to reassure her, but then I remember. No lying. Not even about little things. “I don't know. I guess I’m as alright as I've been. I mean, nothing's different, you know? I'm disappointed, but nothing's different.” I laugh. “Everything has sort of sucked for a while now, so this isn't really any different. And I've learned how to live with it. So I'm alright.” I look at her and open the door. “Thanks for driving. And thanks for not thinking I was psycho when I told you about all of this. I wasn't sure what you'd think.”