Less than Perfect by S. J. Evans (librera reader .TXT) 📖

as productive.
“I should probably go answer that,” she announced, standing up from the couch. “It could be someone important.”
Jules groaned, ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, come on

, Skye,” he said, reaching out his hand to grasp hers, “let Leah or Joe answer it. They are here, aren’t they?”
She nodded. “They are,” she confirmed, but pulled away from him anyways. “It’ll only take me a second, though. Why make them answer it? They’ve done so much for us. Why not return the favor?”
Chuckling, he shrugged. “I guess you’re right. Go ahead. Holler if you need me.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said around a cheeky grin.
Giggling under her breath, she shook her head, wandered over to the front door, and hesitated before answering it, smoothing her hair and checking her breath, even though she already knew how it’d smell: of mint and vanilla, just like Jules’s favorite breath mints.
Without checking to see who it was, Skye unbolted the front door, and pulled it open, filling the space where the door had once been with her presence, stepping forward. Her head was still spinning from the short and yet, incredibly fulfilling, make-out session she’d just had with Jules, heart thumping against her ribcage, a smile spread wide across her face, as she thought about this; however, the moment she looked towards the man at the door, dressed in jeans, a red plaid button-up shirt that covered a plain white t-shirt, and work boots, her smile faltered, and her heart nearly stopped beating.
She tried to say something, but even a simple “hello” was lost in her throat, as she stared at the middle-aged man that now stood in front of her, so real, so familiar

—and yet—so unfamiliar

at the same time. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t believe her eyes.
It had

to be a mistake.
It couldn’t really be him

. That was impossible

.
“Hello, Skylar,” the man said, smiling what, to other people, would have been a kind, friendly smile, but to her it was something else entirely, something that chilled her to the bone. “I really hate to just drop by like this without warning, but I had to see you. It’s been so long, and I owe you an explanation. And well, I’m sure you don’t know this, Skylar, but I’m—”
“It’s you,” she managed to say, the words sharp and painful as they rolled off her dry, papery tongue. Her heart swelled, mind spun. “It’s really you

.”
“—your father,” he finished, and swallowed hard. “Your real

father.”
For a moment, everything grew silent, and the only thing Skye could hear, besides the loud, erratic beating of her racing heart, was her own breathing, intermingled with the man’s before her. And then she could feel her stomach clenching, her eyes stinging, and she knew she was about to break down, right in front of this man, right in the front of the house, where anyone could look out and see her, and she had to struggle to pull herself together.
You can do this

, she told herself, knotting her hands together. Just speak. Just say something, anything. And try not to think about who he really is—Derik Pembroke, your father— just think about him as a stranger. You don’t know him. He doesn’t know you. He never did anything to you.

She repeated those words over and over again in her mind during those long, unbearably quiet moments while she stood there, frozen in place, staring at this man from the picture, the one Johnny had hidden from her, and tried to ignore the fact that he—her father, her real

father—was actually right there, only a few feet away.
But when she finally opened her mouth to break the silence, what she said and how she’d said it not only surprised her, but also the man she’d directed it to, catching them both off guard with its harsh, bitter sting.
She’d said: “What the hell

are you doing here, Derik?”


END OF BOOK ONE.

Imprint

Text: All rights reserved, Stephanie Jane, 2012. Do not copy, steal, or re-post elsewhere. Thank you for your cooperation. :)
Images: Cover from Google images.
Editing: *Has yet to be edited.
Publication Date: 07-09-2011

All Rights Reserved