Read Online The "What If" Guy by Brooke Moss - Free Book Online Page B

stacked bales behind him every time he flailed his arms. My eyes traveled downward, and my stomach sank to my shoes. On the front of his worn old jeans was a wet spot where he’d urinated on himself.
    I glanced at Elliott, who had tears brimming in his eyes, then scanned the crowd who gathered around the spectacle. A few people tried to coax my father down, but most simply covered their children’s ears and watched him in disapproval. Some kids about Elliott’s age pointed and snickered.
    My cheeks scalded. My fight-or-flight instinct kicked into high gear. If my dad had been in good health, I would have grabbed my son and hit the road for Seattle. But I couldn’t even afford the gas to get there. I had no choice but to stay here and deal with my dad.
    Without hesitation, Holly said, “I’ll find Cody.”
    “No.” I shook my head. “I’ll take care of it.” I knew how to deal with my father and didn’t need Cody’s help. Heaven knew how many holidays my dad had ruined for me while I was growing up. This was nothing new.
    I looked at El and tried to smile, despite our humiliation. “Alright, kiddo. I’m gonna take Grandpa home. Once he’s settled in bed, I’ll walk back down and join you for a caramel apple, okay?”
    He looked doubtful. “I dunno, Mom”
    I touched his chin. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. Stay with Holly—or Tabitha.”
    “Whatever.”
    I was really starting to hate the word “whatever.”
    I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the stares and whispers.
    “Dad?”
    My father let loose a string of expletives so offensive that Smartie, who’d been trying to talk him down, flinched.
    “Hey, Auto,” Smartie said. “Didn’t mean to over-serve him. I thought he was walkin’ home to go to bed.”
    “It’s okay,” I replied. “Dad?”
    My father turned around, nearly toppling over, and stared at me as if I were a total stranger, infringing on his sermon on the mount. “Get the hell outta here,” he yelled, waving his cigarette close to my face. “Go take your ssstupid kid trick-or-treatin’, and leave me the hell alone.”
    “You’re embarrassing yourself. Would you please get down and let me take you home?”
    My dad tipped his head back and burst into maniacal laughter, but stopped when he stumbled backwards. “The lady wantsta take me home, folks.”
    My stomach chilled and hardened like a stone. This whole scene reminded me of many Halloweens I’d experienced as a kid. I caught him by his bony arm, but he jerked away with all of the roughness he could muster.
    “Getoffme,” he slurred. “I’ll be home later.”
    “No. You’re going home now. It’s time to sleep this off.” I glanced over my shoulder at Cody, who wrestled with one of his sons, unaware of the commotion. My father spewed another chorus of curse words. I ignored the heat that crawled up from the collar of my coat.
    Everyone’s eyes were on me, and the kids who’d been snickering whispered. “That’s the new kid’s grandpa. Freak.”
    The heat in my cheeks intensified, and I looked back at Elliott, who hid behind Holly with a scowl on his face.
    I wanted to cry for him. I remembered feeling the same way as a kid. But at the same time, I wanted to cry for my father, too. He was a dilapidated old man who’d pissed himself.
    “Dad.” I leaned in toward my father. He swayed back and forth in place, his fingers clawing at the dry straw. “Let me help you get home, okay?”
    Behind me, people spoke in hushed conversations—all of them about me.
    “That’s his daughter.”
    “That’s Autumn Cole. She’s back, you know.”
    “Poor dear, how embarrassing.”
    I wanted them all to go away, to go celebrate Halloween and pretend that my father wasn’t tanked and putting on a sideshow in the middle of town. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone familiar watching me as he approached the scene, sympathy written all over his whiskered face.
    Henry.
    This is about to get incredibly uncomfortable