IF SOMETHING SEEMS too good to be true, Daphne Lynch’s mother had always told her, then it probably is. Especially if that something is a man.
Hard-earned wisdom from a woman who’d been burned not once, but twice by men who’d swept her off her feet only to stand by and watch as she landed flat on her ass.
Daphne knew her mother had reasons—valid ones—to feel the way she did. To want to protect herself from being let down again. From being hurt. But Daphne didn’t want to live life that way. Afraid to trust. Afraid to love.
Life was about taking chances. Seeing the good that was out there and, most importantly, believing in that good.
So when she’d received an email from her father over a year ago—the first time she’d heard from Michael Lynch in six years—she’d been cautious. She may be only seventeen but she wasn’t stupid. Far from it. And she hadn’t forgotten what he’d done to her and her mother. What he’d done to Zach. She couldn’t. Just as she wouldn’t forget what type of man he’d been.
But she’d also been curious. Optimistic. Willing to give him a second chance. So she’d begun a correspondence with him over the last year. Hopeful, and eager even, to believe him when he’d said he’d changed.
Guess she wasn’t all that smart after all.
Because it was now pretty clear that while Michael Lynch had changed physically over the last seven years—his face was puffier and more heavily lined, his once trim frame carried thirty extra pounds, his black hair was threaded with gray—the transformation was only superficial. The man approaching her was older and harder-looking, but he hadn’t changed. Not really.
Not where it counted.
She glanced up and down the long, exterior walkway that circled George Grant High School’s second-floor science wing and overlooked a pristine, tranquil courtyard. No one else was around. Exactly how she’d wanted it. She’d arrived at school early, checked in with the headmaster and asked for permission to slip outside for some privacy to go over her speech. Bad idea. She should have stayed in the cafeteria, where her classmates were assembling.
Sitting in a patch of warm sunlight on one of the wooden benches that lined the school’s wall, she watched her father walk toward her, his gait unsteady enough to have him reaching for the railing of the banister every few steps, his face unshaven. Her fingers curled around her note cards, bending the edges. She prayed like mad she was wrong. That he was walking that way because he’d hurt his leg. That he sported a gray, bristly beard and disheveled hair and clothes because he’d been sick and unable to properly take care of himself.
“There she is,” Michael said. “Class valedictorian!”
His slurred words bounced off the side of the building and floated over the green grass and immaculate flower beds below, scaring two robins into flight. He stopped in front of her, his eyes rimmed red, the stench of alcohol emanating off of him.
Crap. She glanced at the heavens. Thanks for nothing.
Guess she wasn’t getting any help from God. Not with this. Her father was here, right in front of her, big as life and completely wasted.
Daphne swallowed and slowly got to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
He grinned and she had a glimpse of what he must have looked like before she was born, before the drink and drugs and his pack-a-day habit had taken its toll. A glimpse that told her, exactly, why her mother had fallen for him in the first place. It seemed not even moms were immune to a pretty face.
Her mom had been more susceptible than most.
“You didn’t think I’d miss my baby girl’s graduation, did you?” he asked.
“You’ve missed every other major event or milestone in my life,” she pointed out. Including the ones during the time when they actually lived in the same house. Birthdays, dance recitals and softball games to name a few. Times when she’d actually wanted him there. Until she’d realized she was better off without him. “So, yeah. I thought you’d miss this one. Especially as you weren’t invited.”
This was all her fault. She never should have told him about being named valedictorian. Shouldn’t have mentioned the date of her graduation. And since she was on a roll, she may as well add “being secret email pen pals for the past fourteen months” and “believing he was sober” to her list of mistakes.
Stupid list. It just grew and grew and grew.
“Now is that any way to talk to your father?” His tone remained friendly, if a bit quieter, but his eyes narrowed, warning her to be careful. Reminding her exactly what he was capable of.
She took a step toward the door leading to the cafeteria. Her one saving grace was that if she screamed, someone would hear. Would come to see what was happening.
Well, probably. If she yelled really, really loud.
Except, once they came, she’d have to explain why Michael was here. Who he was.
Her classmates and teachers would all get a firsthand look at who she’d come from. Her mother, currently sitting out in the blazing Texas sun, waiting for the graduation ceremony to begin, would know that Daphne had been emailing Michael for months. She’d be disappointed. Angry. But that wouldn’t compare to how upset Zach would be once he found out.
And her older brother would find out. No doubt about that. Her mother never could keep a secret. Zach would know how stupid Daphne had been. How she’d betrayed him.
She couldn’t let that happen.
So no screaming or asking for help. She got herself into this mess. She’d get herself out.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she told her father as she took another step away from him.
“I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just wanted to see you. It’s a proud day for a father when his only daughter graduates at the top of her class.”
The worst part? She almost believed him. Wanted to trust he told the truth. How pitiful was that? Maybe her mother had it right. Being cynical really was the way to go. Zach had certainly embraced that concept.
“I don’t want you here,” Daphne told him slowly. Concisely. She lifted her chin. “I mean it. Leave. Or else I’ll tell security to escort you off the premises.”
Because when you went to one of Houston’s snootiest private schools, you could make demands like that. Even if you were there thanks to a scholarship and the generosity of a family that wasn’t your own.
Michael held up his hands as if to show he was harmless, but she remembered the damage those hands could do. The sharp crack of his open palm across her mother’s face. The sickening thump of his fists pummeling Zach.
The memories, combined with the smell of Michael’s body odor and the stale cigarette smoke clinging to him, made her stomach turn. She breathed shallowly through her mouth until the nausea passed. Zach. He’d been her confidant and best friend her entire life. Her protector. He’d kept her safe, was a solid, strong presence, there to lean on when things got tough, lending a shoulder when the only solution was a cry-fest. Whenever she made a mistake—and sometimes it seemed as if she did nothing but—he stepped in, took over and fixed it.
He fixed her. Always.
Thank God he wasn’t here to see this screwup.
Because today’s mistake came in the form of six feet of what she knew could quickly turn into a mean, belligerent drunk. A ghost from their past she was