| Twenty-Four || What Fathers Do |

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 I was all smiles the whole ride back to South Creek

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I was all smiles the whole ride back to South Creek. I didn't care that I was walking into dangerous territory with my dad and all the shit associated with my house. All I could think about was Estella and our night and morning together.

I didn't know when I transitioned from seeing her as the annoying girl I was forced to tolerate to the girl who could make me feel better than anyone else. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to be with her, but I knew for a fact that I wanted her around.

Yeah, there was Brice—Ximena wasn't even an issue—but I couldn't just sit by and let Estella be with him. It was complicated, but I knew my and Brice's friendship could handle it. We always bounced back from conflicts, so I wasn't going to think about it too much.

I jammed out to my favorite rock playlist, even singing along to it. When I pulled into my driveway, my high spirits diminished slightly, but I refused to let my father win. All I had to do was make it through the door and into my room, so that was what I did.

I made it through the door, but before I could walk up the steps, my father emerged from the kitchen.

"Iago." I froze at the sound of his voice. "Dónde estabas?"

"With a friend," I replied before chuckling with no ounce of humor. "Don't worry. It wasn't one of the pijos, as you like to call them."

His expression dropped, and he approached me. "Then who?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I'm your father," he said. "It does matter."

I scoffed. "Now, you wanna be a father? What about when you punched me in the face? Or when you elbowed Mama in the mouth?"

His eyes softened. "Lo siento."

"That's not enough."

"I know I'm a terrible father," he said. "I know I'm an awful person who's done nothing but disappoint my family and myself the past couple years. I know that."

I was taken aback. Was my father actually admitting his own faults?

"Everything you said is true." He sighed. "I got so angry because you're right. Your mother isn't happy, and I'm not making it easier for her. I'm not providing for her like she would like, and I'm not caring for her like I should. I drove your brothers away because I was too hard on them, just like I'm driving you away now." He looked me in the eye. "I'm sorry if I stop you from making friends the way you should—in more ways than one. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"You always say that," I pointed out. "You say people will hurt me or make me feel bad about myself. As if there's something wrong with me. As if people can't like me for me. I'm saying this now, but even I struggle to remind myself of that since you constantly tell me otherwise."

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