Read Online Pawn (Nightmares Trilogy #1) by Sophie Davis - Free Book Online
Authors: Sophie Davis
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town doing some research. Listen, I need to talk to you
about something, but I think it would be best if we talked in
person. You have a car, right?”
I was going to see him. After nearly
five years, I was going to see my father. My chest felt like it
might explode with happiness. “I do,” I confirmed.
“Wonderful. I fly back into town on
Wednesday morning. How about we meet that evening?” Dad
asked
“Okay, yeah. Where?” I replied
eagerly.
“Do you know the Moonlight Diner? It’s
on route 140, just before you cross over from Westwood County to
Baltimore County.”
I knew the place. It was a
hole in the wall and usually had a parking lot full of Harleys. It
wasn’t the type of establishment my
friends and I frequented, though . “I know
it,” I told him.
“Does six work?”
“I’ll be there,” I promised
him.
“I can’t wait to see you, Eel,” Dad
said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Do me a favor in the meantime,
though. If you feel uncomfortable in a situation or you meet
someone new and you don’t feel safe, trust your
instincts.”
“What?” I stammered. I was eighteen, a
little late for the “don’t talk to strangers” discussion. Then I
remembered Kannon and how uncomfortable he’d made me. The intense
way he’d stared at me, the tight coil of fear that had developed in
the pit of my stomach while we were sitting on the grass, the burn
his fingers had left on my cheek.
“I promise I’ll explain when I see
you,” Dad continued. “Keep your phone on and close in case I need
to get in touch with you again before then.”
“Okay,” I whispered, not wanting the
conversation to end but knowing it was about to.
“I love you, sweetheart. I’ll see you
soon.”
“I love you, too,” I told him and then
disconnected.
I sat back on my bed, a
mixture of longing and disbelief. In just over seventy-two hours I
would see my father in the flesh. The once-a-year phone calls were not
enough. I tried to imagine what he would look like. Five years was
a long time. I imagined his hair would still be full, but maybe a
little grayer around the temples. He’d worn glasses for as long as
I could remember, and I doubted he’d bothered to get Lasik. I got
my athletic abilities from his side of the family. He played water
polo in college and had always been a distance runner, so I figured
he’d be in good shape for a man in his fifties.
Of the two of us, I was the
one who’d probably changed the most. My auburn hair hit the middle
of my back, a big change from the chin length do my mother insisted looked best on me. I wasn’t much taller, only an inch or two. I
hoped he would recognize me.
Despite my father’s warning, I
immediately texted Kannon. I needed to put the past couple of days
behind me and move on to what was really important. Until I talked
to Kannon, that wasn’t going to happen.
Me: How did you get this #?
Kannon: Can we talk in
person?
Me: Answer my question and I’ll
consider it.
Ten minutes passed more
slowly than a snow mound melting in January. I tapped the desk
impatiently with my nails, the click click
click loud in my otherwise silent bedroom.
Finally, my phone dinged, signaling his two-word response: Jamieson
Wentworth.
I stared at the cell, mouth agape. I
blinked several times to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks
on me. No, I’d read the text correctly the first time. A hot flush
of anger made my cheeks burn. What the hell was going
on?
My phone dinged again.
Kannon: You two are friends,
right?
I laughed bitterly. In another life,
yes, Jamieson and I had been friends, best friends. Now? Not so
much.
The damned phone dinged a third
time.
Kannon: So, when can we
meet ?
Quarter till
never , I thought. Any friend of Jamieson’s
was not someone I wanted to associate with. Sure, the animosity
between Jamieson and me had cooled over the past several years ―
nothing like it had been right after I’d moved away and left St.
Mary’s, which
about something, but I think it would be best if we talked in
person. You have a car, right?”
I was going to see him. After nearly
five years, I was going to see my father. My chest felt like it
might explode with happiness. “I do,” I confirmed.
“Wonderful. I fly back into town on
Wednesday morning. How about we meet that evening?” Dad
asked
“Okay, yeah. Where?” I replied
eagerly.
“Do you know the Moonlight Diner? It’s
on route 140, just before you cross over from Westwood County to
Baltimore County.”
I knew the place. It was a
hole in the wall and usually had a parking lot full of Harleys. It
wasn’t the type of establishment my
friends and I frequented, though . “I know
it,” I told him.
“Does six work?”
“I’ll be there,” I promised
him.
“I can’t wait to see you, Eel,” Dad
said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Do me a favor in the meantime,
though. If you feel uncomfortable in a situation or you meet
someone new and you don’t feel safe, trust your
instincts.”
“What?” I stammered. I was eighteen, a
little late for the “don’t talk to strangers” discussion. Then I
remembered Kannon and how uncomfortable he’d made me. The intense
way he’d stared at me, the tight coil of fear that had developed in
the pit of my stomach while we were sitting on the grass, the burn
his fingers had left on my cheek.
“I promise I’ll explain when I see
you,” Dad continued. “Keep your phone on and close in case I need
to get in touch with you again before then.”
“Okay,” I whispered, not wanting the
conversation to end but knowing it was about to.
“I love you, sweetheart. I’ll see you
soon.”
“I love you, too,” I told him and then
disconnected.
I sat back on my bed, a
mixture of longing and disbelief. In just over seventy-two hours I
would see my father in the flesh. The once-a-year phone calls were not
enough. I tried to imagine what he would look like. Five years was
a long time. I imagined his hair would still be full, but maybe a
little grayer around the temples. He’d worn glasses for as long as
I could remember, and I doubted he’d bothered to get Lasik. I got
my athletic abilities from his side of the family. He played water
polo in college and had always been a distance runner, so I figured
he’d be in good shape for a man in his fifties.
Of the two of us, I was the
one who’d probably changed the most. My auburn hair hit the middle
of my back, a big change from the chin length do my mother insisted looked best on me. I wasn’t much taller, only an inch or two. I
hoped he would recognize me.
Despite my father’s warning, I
immediately texted Kannon. I needed to put the past couple of days
behind me and move on to what was really important. Until I talked
to Kannon, that wasn’t going to happen.
Me: How did you get this #?
Kannon: Can we talk in
person?
Me: Answer my question and I’ll
consider it.
Ten minutes passed more
slowly than a snow mound melting in January. I tapped the desk
impatiently with my nails, the click click
click loud in my otherwise silent bedroom.
Finally, my phone dinged, signaling his two-word response: Jamieson
Wentworth.
I stared at the cell, mouth agape. I
blinked several times to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks
on me. No, I’d read the text correctly the first time. A hot flush
of anger made my cheeks burn. What the hell was going
on?
My phone dinged again.
Kannon: You two are friends,
right?
I laughed bitterly. In another life,
yes, Jamieson and I had been friends, best friends. Now? Not so
much.
The damned phone dinged a third
time.
Kannon: So, when can we
meet ?
Quarter till
never , I thought. Any friend of Jamieson’s
was not someone I wanted to associate with. Sure, the animosity
between Jamieson and me had cooled over the past several years ―
nothing like it had been right after I’d moved away and left St.
Mary’s, which
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