“Why do you have to be so damn nice?” I asked, annoyed. “Why can’t you get pissed off, too? It would make my life so much easier.”

He kissed my forehead—so freaking condescending—and said, with that same old smile, “Because being pissed won’t solve anything. Go downstairs and talk to your dad. I’ll be here when you’re done. Okay?”

“I told you, Trace already suggested that, but it won’t work. And besides, I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, you do.” His hands tightened on my hips and he nudged me backward, toward the door. “You really, really do.” Then he basically shoved me out of the bedroom, then closed—and locked—the door in my face.

I rushed forward, slamming my fist into the wooden door.

“Nathan, this is not cool! Open my freaking door!”

No answer.

Shit. That asshole. He was really going to force me into this. For a minute, I thought about locking myself in his room, but I knew that would get us nowhere. Nathan was going to be stubborn about this. Frustrated, I turned around and started down the stairs, knowing I wouldn’t be allowed back into my bedroom until I’d had some sort of talk with Dad.

No. Never mind. Technically, it wasn’t really my bedroom anymore. It was the guest room again.

I stomped down the stairs, my arms folded tightly over my chest. If I was doing this, I sure as hell wasn’t doing it willingly. And Dad was going to know that. He was going to be fully aware of the fact that I hated this whole situation. That Nathan was the one forcing me to speak to him. Which, of course, made him even more of an idiot for trying to split us up, since this probably meant Nathan was a good influence on me.

The words boiled on the tip of my tongue, the angry things I wanted to scream bubbling at the back of my throat. I was ready. If Dad was still going to be an ass about this, I was going to throw a tantrum. A real one. I was going to give him a decent reason to send me packing. I was going to make my effort worth it.

But I hadn’t even reached his bedroom door yet when I heard the shouting.

Then I remembered what Nathan had said when he first came into my room a few minutes ago: Dad and Sylvia were fighting.

“You’re being unreasonable, Greg.”

“Sylvia, I’ve made up my mind. She’s going home.”

Oh, great. They were fighting about me.

“Nathan and Whitley have been good for each other. Nathan has gotten so much better this summer, and haven’t you noticed the change in Whitley? I don’t understand why this is such a big deal to you.”

“He’s her stepbrother. People will talk.”

“Who gives a shit if they talk?”

I froze outside the door, stunned to hear Sylvia’s sweet, perky voice using a four-letter word. Of course, I was even more surprised to hear her arguing in my defense.

“Just drop it, Sylvia.” Dad sighed.

I could see him through the crack in the door, putting clean clothes in the dresser. The same baby blue shirts and striped ties he always wore. Neat and folded, placed into each drawer. He wasn’t even looking at Sylvia, who sat on the bed watching him. And he certainly hadn’t noticed me.

What else was new?

“No, I am not going to drop it, Greg.” Sylvia stood up suddenly, her hands on her hips. “She’s your daughter, and you’ve barely paid any attention to her all summer.”

“That is not true.”

“Yeah it is, Dad.”

The words had escaped my mouth before I could stop them, and now both Dad’s and Sylvia’s heads had turned to look at me. I bit my lip, regretting that little slip, but it was too late. They knew I was here. Might as well be out with it. So I pushed open the bedroom door and walked inside.

“Whitley, what are you—”

“She’s right, Dad,” I said. “Sylvia hit the nail on the head. I’ve been here all summer and you’ve barely looked at me.”

Fittingly, he wasn’t even looking at me now. He’d turned back to his dresser and was folding and putting away shirt after shirt.

“Whitley, this is a private discussion. Please go back upstairs.”

I scowled. “Whatever,” I muttered, starting to turn around. But the expression I saw on Sylvia’s face stopped me. Her eyes were wide, watching me. Begging me to say something. Their shape reminded me of Nathan’s, and I remembered that I was locked out of my room.

So I had to try.

Try harder, anyway.

“Dad,” I said, forcing the word out. All of the things that had been brewing in my mouth earlier were gone. Not even a trace remained. Like they’d never really been there at all. “Did you see the other pictures?”

“Whitley, I asked you to—”

“Answer her, Greg.” Sylvia sounded angry. Really angry. “I’ve been trying to get you two to talk to each other for weeks. And I’m not letting something as stupid as stubbornness break my family apart. So answer her damn question. She has a right to know.”

Dad stayed quiet, still facing the wall, compulsively folding his stupid clothes.

“Why is this such a big deal?” I demanded, taking his silence for a yes. I stepped forward, my fingers curling against my palms.

Part of me wanted to get angry, like Sylvia. To yell and scream like I’d planned. But the logical side of me said that it was a bad idea, that I’d only screw things up even more.

“You didn’t care when I was making out with other guys. You didn’t care what people thought then. So what does it matter if I kiss Nathan?”

Dad exhaled heavily, finally turning around to face me. He leaned against the dresser, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Whitley, pictures like that just do not reflect well on our family.”

“Our family?” I laughed bitterly. “I’m your family, too, you know. At least I’m supposed to be. And the other comments and photos definitely didn’t reflect well on me. But you never mentioned them. In fact, it only comes up when Nathan gets involved.”

Dad shook his head. “Whitley.”

“No, Dad, I’m serious!” I was embarrassed by how choked the words sounded as they left my throat. My voice was cracking. But I was trying not to lose my cool. I took a breath, lowering my voice a little. “The minute Nathan was pulled into it, you freaked out. You didn’t give a shit about my reputation. Just the reputation of your new family. Your new kids. Like I don’t fucking matter.”

“Oh, honey.”

I felt Sylvia’s hand graze my shoulder, but I shrugged it away, taking another step closer to Dad. “So, you don’t care if everyone thinks I’m a slut, as long as precious Nathan isn’t implicated? Why, Dad? Is it because I’m only here in the summer, and you can forget about me the rest of the year? Is it because you’ve never wanted me? Just like you didn’t want me four years ago?” Tears were burning my eyes, and it was taking all my energy to hold them back now. “Or is it just because you like Nathan and Bailey better? Why is it that you can’t even bring yourself to give a shit about me?”

Dad looked stunned, and maybe a little hurt. He stepped toward me, reaching out to touch my arm. “Whitley, I never meant to—”

I moved back, out of his reach. I shook; I was having trouble breathing. Everything I said came out sounding strangled. Pathetic. I was on the verge of sobbing. This wasn’t even a tantrum—it was a breakdown. Much less dignified.

“You know what, it’s okay,” I said. “Because Mom doesn’t care, either. Did you know that? Mom still thinks I’m best friends with a girl I haven’t spoken to since I was fourteen. She’s too busy obsessing over you. That’s why I wanted to move in with you four years ago. Because I was so goddamn miserable. I had no friends and a mother who couldn’t care less, and you didn’t even want me.”

“Munchkin, I… I’m sorry.” His eyes were wide, and I knew he meant it. But I didn’t give a shit. Not anymore.

“You should be!” I spluttered. “You see me, like, once a freaking year, and you can’t even make time for me then! It’s been all about your new family and your perfect wedding. The one time we’re actually alone together, you spend the whole day trying on stupid tuxedos. This was our summer! The last summer before college, and you ruined it. You ruined everything.”

I was shaking so hard now that I couldn’t even fight Sylvia off. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me to her chest. “Shh… It’s okay.”

How could she stand me? I’d just bitched at my dad for marrying her, basically. For putting her and her kids first. She should have called me a brat. Or at least left the room. But instead she hugged me. Kissed my hair, even. Like a mom. Like someone who cared. And I knew that she was like Nathan. She’d been there the whole time. That was why she annoyed me so much. It was because she was being a parent.

A heavy hand rested on my shoulder. “Munchkin,” Dad murmured. “I… I am really sorry. I had no idea you felt this way.” He paused, gently pulling me out of Sylvia’s arms and turning me to face him. “Listen to me. I love you. You are my family, and I love you more than anything.” He shook his head. “I guess your mother and I just got so caught up that we didn’t realize we were taking you for granted.”

“How come you never said anything?” I asked. “When the people on Facebook were calling me a slut, why didn’t you ask me about it? Even Sylvia, who barely knew me, talked to me about it. Punish me, yell at me, be unreasonable. Why didn’t you just do something?”

“Because I was scared of pushing you away. But I think I did that anyway.” He looked at Sylvia, standing behind me. “Can I talk to Whitley? Alone.”

I heard Sylvia let out a long sigh. “It’s about time.”

CHAPTER 30