Read Online Unbeloved by Madeline Sheehan - Free Book Online Page A

crashed through him.
    “ They do,” she whispered, squeezing her fingers over his. “And it’s your job to show them that.”
    Jase turned to look outside the room, to where his daughter was standing. With her arms folded across her chest, her face a mask of impenetrable stone, she could have easily passed for one of the guards. One of the not-so-manly-looking guards.
    “ I’ll try,” he said, turning back to Chrissy.
    She gave him a sad smile. “That’s all any of us can do now.”
    • • •
    “You don’t need to walk me to my car,” Maribelle muttered, picking up her pace. “I’m not a little girl.”
    Jase quickened his own stride through the prison parking lot. He didn’t want to fight with her, yet knew no matter what he said, it would turn into an argument. It always did. Scrubbing a calloused hand across his grizzled jaw, he tried to think of something to say to her that wouldn’t set her off.
    “ Pretty big storm headed this way,” he called out, “and you got a long drive ahead of you. You got snow tires on that piece of shit you’re drivin’?”
    Maribelle stopped walking so abruptly, he nearly barreled right over her. B acking up a couple of feet, he braced himself for what he knew was coming.
    “ Stop it!” she hissed. “Just stop pretending you give a shit about me!”
    Feeling both e xasperated and exhausted, he lifted his hands in a gesture of peace.
    “ Belle,” he pleaded. “I’m just tryin’ to talk to you, is all. It’s Christmas Eve, baby. Throw your old man a bone, for shit’s sake.”
    Maribelle ’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “You’re right!” she shouted. “It’s Christmas Eve! And like usual I get to spend it without my mother!
    “ Whose fault is that?” she continued. “Whose fucking fault is that?”
    Jase opened his mouth, not knowing what the hell he was going to say, but knowing that something, anything had to be said to defuse her anger before they had prison security descending upon them. But Maribelle beat him to it.
    “ Yours!” she screamed, her hands clenching into small fists. “You ruined our family, you ruined everything, and now you’re a sad old drunk who thinks just because it’s Christmastime you have some right to talk to me about snow tires? As if you even give a shit! All you’ve ever give a shit about is that fucking club and that whore of yours!”
    “ Keep your damn voice down!” he whispered harshly, “before you get slapped with cuffs and I’m bailin’ your ass outta jail.”
    Even as angry as she looked, he could still see the sadness, the disappointment she was trying to hide from him. It reminded of him of her as a child, learning to ride her bike without the training wheels. Over and over again she’d fallen, skinning her shins and knees, but she had been a determined little girl. Even when he’d been ready to throw in the towel, not wanting to bring her home to her mother covered in blood, she’d grit her teeth, dry her eyes, and get back up on that damn bike. The memories only served to worsen his mood. He didn’t have nearly enough of them because he’d never been around.
    “ Belle,” he said, sighing heavily. “I took all that blame a long fuckin’ time ago and I never denied it, not fuckin’ once. But there ain’t nothin’ I can do about the past. All I got is right now, and I’m tryin’. I’ll never stop tryin’. You’re my daughter, my baby girl, and that shit means somethin’ to me. Always has.”
    Maribelle continued to glare at him, seemingly unwavering in her resentment, except for the slight tremble of her bottom lip.
    Seeing an opening, he took a step forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I know I’ve no right to ask you for a damn thing, not after everything I took from you and your sisters, but I’m askin’ anyways.”
    Maribelle looked up and directly into his eyes. “And what exactly are you asking for?”
    He stared down at her, into the mirror image of his wife