Read Online Dusk (Young Adult Paranormal Romance) by Amy Durham - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amy Durham
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stomach.
“Homework,” he managed, our faces still pressed together.
I nodded. He was right, but the reminder was pretty unwelcome at the moment.
With one arm, he reached around me for the Pre-Cal book, his other arm keeping me tight against him.
He kissed me once more, quick and soft, as he opened the book and picked up a pencil.
“I probably ought to meet your mom,” he said as we both moved to give our attention to our homework. “She’d probably like to meet the guy who’s nuts about her daughter.”
Chapter 12
I was still awake long after I heard my mom turn in for the night. Lying in the bed, my mind kept returning to Adrian and our afternoon together. He’d quickly become such an important part of my life, and apparently, he felt the same.
Enough that he wanted to meet my mom.
Things we so strained between Mom and me that I had no idea how to even bring it up. It would be pretty awkward to just come right out with it after months of practically no meaningful communication between the two of us.
Hey Mom, I’m still really pissed about all that crap with Dad, and I don’t want to talk about it with you, but hey, I met a guy.
Somehow I just didn’t think that was the right way to approach it.
For a split second I wondered if my dad would like Adrian, or if he’d be like most dads were about the guys who dated their teenage daughters. A wave of sadness swept over me when that errant thought brought home all over again that my dad was gone forever.
Taking a deep breath, I nestled further into my pillow and pulled the blanket up over my shoulders. I could feel the first moments of slumber sliding toward me and welcomed them and the brief escape they offered.
Sleep claimed me, and in that dreamy place the scene began to change before my eyes.
Beyond the gray, hazy fog, the Rison Town Cemetery sloped with the gentle hills on which it sat. The lack of sunlight increased the creepy vibe the place gave off. My feet took me in that direction, even though my mind argued bitterly against it.
I hadn’t been here since the day we buried him, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d chosen such an eerie day to make my first visit.
The words ricocheted around in my head as I walked in the direction of his grave. All the things I wanted to say – things I should’ve said when he was still alive – clamored for attention. I wanted so badly to hate him forever. It would be easier that way. But somewhere along the way, after putting my father in the ground, the feelings of love that had once been so natural came seeping back into my heart.
His headstone was simple. Jason Gray. Beloved Husband and Father. 1969 – 2013. I almost laughed at the beloved husband part. Almost. Then I remembered why I was here.
I sank to my knees, unbothered by the damp ground beneath me. And in the quiet, mist-filled morning, I started to cry.
And the words rolled right out of me.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. So sorry. I don’t hate you. I never did. I wanted to, but just because I was so mad at you for hurting Mom and screwing up our family. I guess I’m still mad. But I can’t stop loving you, Dad. And I miss you so much.”
Dragging the back of my hands across my cheeks, I cleared the tears from my eyes and looked up.
Somehow, he was there. My Dad. A cloudy, translucent vision of him, standing behind the headstone. His empty eyes stared through me, as if I wasn’t even there.
“Daddy.” My voice broke, but I continued, and said what I’d come here to say. “Can you forgive me?”
Without moving his eyes to look at me, and with zero emotion in his voice, he replied, “It’s too late.”
His image began to fade into the haze. Stumbling to my feet, I tried to reach him before he vanished.
“No, Daddy,” I wailed, the misery welling inside me too overwhelming to bear. “Please!”
But he was gone.
Collapsing to the ground, I let despair overtake me, sobbing there beside my father’s
“Homework,” he managed, our faces still pressed together.
I nodded. He was right, but the reminder was pretty unwelcome at the moment.
With one arm, he reached around me for the Pre-Cal book, his other arm keeping me tight against him.
He kissed me once more, quick and soft, as he opened the book and picked up a pencil.
“I probably ought to meet your mom,” he said as we both moved to give our attention to our homework. “She’d probably like to meet the guy who’s nuts about her daughter.”
Chapter 12
I was still awake long after I heard my mom turn in for the night. Lying in the bed, my mind kept returning to Adrian and our afternoon together. He’d quickly become such an important part of my life, and apparently, he felt the same.
Enough that he wanted to meet my mom.
Things we so strained between Mom and me that I had no idea how to even bring it up. It would be pretty awkward to just come right out with it after months of practically no meaningful communication between the two of us.
Hey Mom, I’m still really pissed about all that crap with Dad, and I don’t want to talk about it with you, but hey, I met a guy.
Somehow I just didn’t think that was the right way to approach it.
For a split second I wondered if my dad would like Adrian, or if he’d be like most dads were about the guys who dated their teenage daughters. A wave of sadness swept over me when that errant thought brought home all over again that my dad was gone forever.
Taking a deep breath, I nestled further into my pillow and pulled the blanket up over my shoulders. I could feel the first moments of slumber sliding toward me and welcomed them and the brief escape they offered.
Sleep claimed me, and in that dreamy place the scene began to change before my eyes.
Beyond the gray, hazy fog, the Rison Town Cemetery sloped with the gentle hills on which it sat. The lack of sunlight increased the creepy vibe the place gave off. My feet took me in that direction, even though my mind argued bitterly against it.
I hadn’t been here since the day we buried him, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d chosen such an eerie day to make my first visit.
The words ricocheted around in my head as I walked in the direction of his grave. All the things I wanted to say – things I should’ve said when he was still alive – clamored for attention. I wanted so badly to hate him forever. It would be easier that way. But somewhere along the way, after putting my father in the ground, the feelings of love that had once been so natural came seeping back into my heart.
His headstone was simple. Jason Gray. Beloved Husband and Father. 1969 – 2013. I almost laughed at the beloved husband part. Almost. Then I remembered why I was here.
I sank to my knees, unbothered by the damp ground beneath me. And in the quiet, mist-filled morning, I started to cry.
And the words rolled right out of me.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. So sorry. I don’t hate you. I never did. I wanted to, but just because I was so mad at you for hurting Mom and screwing up our family. I guess I’m still mad. But I can’t stop loving you, Dad. And I miss you so much.”
Dragging the back of my hands across my cheeks, I cleared the tears from my eyes and looked up.
Somehow, he was there. My Dad. A cloudy, translucent vision of him, standing behind the headstone. His empty eyes stared through me, as if I wasn’t even there.
“Daddy.” My voice broke, but I continued, and said what I’d come here to say. “Can you forgive me?”
Without moving his eyes to look at me, and with zero emotion in his voice, he replied, “It’s too late.”
His image began to fade into the haze. Stumbling to my feet, I tried to reach him before he vanished.
“No, Daddy,” I wailed, the misery welling inside me too overwhelming to bear. “Please!”
But he was gone.
Collapsing to the ground, I let despair overtake me, sobbing there beside my father’s
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