Chapter 32

Well, that explains why my cell was off.

He turns his off every night, whereas I usually don’t. Just in case I’m needed.

“Thanks,” I mumble. I want to ask him what I said, but I don’t because I’m scared. I’m afraid I might actually have told him something I didn’t want him to know.

“You talked about your father,” he says matter-of-factly. Crap. Like that.

The anger rises in me unexpectedly, and it’s too quick to grind back down.

“He’s not my father! He’s just a donor to my existence and nothing more,” I snap, jumping to my feet; his hand falls to the couch, surprising him. The heat rises in my chest; teen Emma’s anger has renewed with a fury, and I’m pissed at myself for her appearance again. I angrily storm to the kitchenette; I need water and a second to calm down.

And a boss who damn well stops digging into stuff that has nothing to do with him.

“And Ray?” The question is so precise and unimposing, yet it devastatingly affects me. Stomach