White Trash Damaged Part 12

"What?" I knew she had reservations about me joining the guys for the tour, but this was insane.

"It's nothing personal."

"Nothing personal? This is my boyfriend. I don't see how it could be any more personal."

She turned her attention to Tucker, completely ignoring me.

"I have been fielding calls all morning. Calls from everyone from news reporters to Ca.s.s's father and everyone in between. This is very bad."

"Wait . . . Did you say my father?" Suddenly I felt like I was spinning. . . . In that one sentence the entire world just imploded.

"This isn't a game, Tucker. Is it really worth it to play house with some girl? This is your career."

"She isn't just some girl. I love her, and she is more important than any of this s.h.i.+t."

"I'm sorry. Did you say my dad called you?"

Donna rolled her eyes at me as she tapped her foot. The other members of the band stood in shock watching our fight. Tucker continued to argue his point while Donna shrieked and moaned.

"Enough," Eric yelled, and the bus went silent. I leaned back against the counter, struggling to catch my breath as a panic attack began to take over. "Ca.s.s is trying to find out about her dad. Can you not see what you're doing to her?" Suddenly everyone's eyes were on me.

"He left his number. Why is this such a big issue?" Donna waved her hands around dramatically. I slowly raised my eyes to meet hers.

"I haven't seen my father in years. . . . Since I was little," I said quietly as I rubbed over my arm nervously. I hated admitting that I fit the stereotype she had clearly pinned on me: poor little lost girl with daddy issues. I expected her to smile, but instead she was sympathetic.

"That wasn't fair of me. I didn't know."

"It's fine," I said, looking away. I needed to get out of there. I needed some air before my lungs exploded. I pushed my way through the group and stumbled out of the front door. Tucker followed and placed his hand on the small of my back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think."

I held up my hand to stop him from talking. I knew he wasn't trying to hurt me, but all I cared about in that moment was keeping the world from caving in on me. My father had disappeared to New Orleans when I was six and never returned, leaving my mother and me dest.i.tute and confused, struggling to survive while he was off living the single life. What could he possibly want from me now, so many years later?

I shook away the sadness, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over my cheeks. "I always knew he would come back one day; I just thought it would be while my mother was still alive." My heart was in the pit of my stomach. Tucker wrapped his arms around me, and that contact, that feeling of safety, caused me to let go of everything I was holding back. The tears flowed freely as sobs wracked my body. This wasn't supposed to happen. I was happy now, and my life was finally falling into place.

Tucker laid his cheek on the top of my head as his hand rubbed over my back soothingly.

"This doesn't change anything. You don't have to call him back. He doesn't deserve it."

I pulled back, brus.h.i.+ng my hair away from my wet face.

"I have to call him, Tucker. He's my dad." I couldn't understand his logic. Why would I blow him off? I had wanted to see his face again since the moment he stepped out of my life.

"You don't have to do anything, Ca.s.s. He doesn't even deserve to hear your voice. You're going to get hurt."

"I'm used to it." I walked around him and made my way around the bus. I wanted to talk to Sarah. She would understand. I knew Tucker didn't want to see me upset, but that was something in life that was unavoidable. I was willing to take the chance.

I banged on the bus door and waited impatiently for someone to answer. Derek pulled open the door and motioned with a tilt of his head to the back of the bus. Sarah leaned out of the bathroom where she was styling her hair to see who was at the door.

"Hey! I was gonna come get you in a few and see if you wanted to do makeovers." She was beaming from ear to ear. Her smile faded as she saw my tearstained face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I swiped the tears from my cheeks and gave her a smile. "I was just overwhelmed."

She made her way down the hallway of the bus. Derek gave her a look and nodded, going to the back of the bus to give us privacy. I shoved my hands in my jean pockets.

"How are things going with him?" I asked as she motioned for us to sit at the small kitchen table.

"Things are good. You want to tell me what happened? Is it Tucker? Is it that b.i.t.c.h Donna?"

I laughed and shook my head.

"Not really. I mean . . . yeah, she sucks, but it's not them."

"Then what is it? Spit it out already!"

"My dad is trying to contact me."

Sarah sat back in her seat, her eyes going wide.

"I take it that's a bad thing."

"No. I mean . . . I don't really know. I've been dreaming of this day for years."

She nodded and reached over the table, placing her hand on mine. Half her hair was curled, the other side hung in a tangled mess. I laughed.

"You have the power here. You don't have to see him if you don't want to. You can call and see where it goes from there. Just be careful. There is no telling what he wants."

"I know." The thought of him wanting something from me tied my stomach in knots. I wasn't ready to be hurt by someone else I loved, but I needed to hear his voice.

There was a knock on the door and Sarah grinned.

"Come in, Tucker," she called out, and the door pulled open. Tucker smiled when his eyes met mine.

"I guess I should go and let you finish getting ready." I pushed up from the table and walked toward the door.

"I'm here if you need to talk," Sarah replied as we made our way back outside.

"Tucker." I turned to face him, taking his hands in mine. "I need you to be supportive, no matter what I decide to do."

He nodded, looking down at the asphalt.

"If he hurts you . . ." His eyes met mine and I sighed, not needing him to finish his thought. He pulled a small slip of paper from his pocket and held it out to me. I took it from him. My eyes danced over the phone number scrawled out in Tucker's handwriting. I looped my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek as I gave him an appreciative hug.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm not sure this is going to end the way you are hoping."

"When did you become so pessimistic?"

He laughed sardonically and ran his hand over his hair.

"When I lost everything I had loved."

The pain in his eyes nearly killed me. I pushed my forehead against his.

"I'm not going anywhere, Tucker." I pressed my lips against his, and he slid his hands into my hair, holding me against him for an extra moment.

"Just promise me, no matter what happens, you won't let him break you. You're a lot stronger than I give you credit for, but I have seen you defeated, and I don't ever want to watch you go through that again."

"No matter what happens, we have each other, and that is all I need."

"Band meeting." Donna stuck her head out of the door. I rolled my eyes and looked back at Tucker.

"At least you won't have to deal with her for a little while."

I laughed and pulled him in for a hug. He kissed my forehead and retreated back inside of the bus. A few minutes later the band filed out with Donna behind them.

I went onto the bus and sat down. I held the cell phone in my hands, letting my eyes go unfocused as I stared at the keypad. I was trying to summon the courage to finally call my dad. My fingers shook as I pulled the small sliver of paper from my pocket. This was it. Time to be strong. I dialed the number and dropped the paper in my lap as I crossed my legs in our bunk.

It rang twice before a man with a deep scratchy voice answered.

"Yeah?"

The voice didn't sound like I had remembered, and for a second I thought I had dialed the wrong number.

"I'm sorry, I was looking for David Daniels."

"This is him," he replied, and the line went quiet. "Ca.s.s?"

My throat closed and I suddenly was unable to respond. It was my father and he recognized me.

"It's me." I cleared my throat as I pushed open the curtain to the bunk, feeling claustrophobic.

"Princess! You sound so grown up."

"I am grown up now, Dad."

"Yeah, of course you are. Of course. How are you?"

"I'm . . . all right."

"Good. That's really good to hear. I tried to call your mother a few times, but she must have changed her number."

"She's dead," I blurted out, squeezing my eyes closed as I mentally scolded myself for not being more tactful. He didn't respond, but I could hear him breathing into the receiver. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you that way. I thought you would know."

There was a beat of silence.

"No, no, it's fine. I just . . . I . . . I didn't know."

"How are you doing?" I wanted to change the subject and not let myself dwell on the darker part of my life.

"Things are good. My wife is pregnant again."

Everything began to spin, and I felt like I was sinking.

"Your wife?" I asked as I held the palm of my hand against my chest. Willing my heartbeat to slow.

"I remarried a few years back. Your momma didn't tell you?"

"How could you remarry? You and Mom were still married." I was angry and wanted to scream at him in her defense.

"We've been divorced for nearly four years, Ca.s.s."

"That's impossible. You said she is pregnant again?"

"Big as a house. . . . You have a little brother, Ryley. He just turned three, but that boy is smart as a whip."

I let the phone slide from my hand and into my lap as I struggled to keep from losing my mind. All these years I had prayed for my father to come back and save us, and all the while he had moved on and started a whole new family. We couldn't have been further from his mind. And worst of all, Momma had known and never said a word. I felt betrayed by everyone involved. I could hear the faint sound of his voice from the phone, and I picked it up and held it back to my ear.

"Sorry. I dropped the phone." My voice came out sounding monotone. I was trying so hard to suppress the sadness and anger that was boiling inside of me.

"I thought she would have told you, princess."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, surprised at my own strength.

"When I left I had no business trying to raise a kid when I couldn't even pay the bills. Couldn't even keep myself off the bottle. You were better off with your mother. I always planned to come back. You have to believe that, but your momma and I were toxic together. It would have made your life miserable."

"My life was miserable. We struggled every d.a.m.n day." The tears were flowing freely now, and I was embarra.s.sed that I was allowing him to hear me cry.

"I'm sorry. I know I can't ever take back what I have put you through, but I would like the chance to be a part of your life, Ca.s.s. Everyone deserves a second chance."

"But . . . why now?"

"When I saw your face on the magazine, it was a real wake-up call, Ca.s.s. . . . It was a punch in the gut. I realized how much time had pa.s.sed . . . how much of your life I'd missed out on. . . . h.e.l.l, it took me a few moments to even recognize my own kid!" He laughed nervously, and then fell silent for a few moments. "I just want a second shot with my oldest kid, Ca.s.s. That's all."

I chewed on my lip as I thought that over. I knew people could change, and he was taking the step to have me back in his life. That had to count for something.

"Okay," I replied with a sigh.

"Great. I'll call you to make some plans. Thank you, Ca.s.s."

I nodded to myself and ended the call, tossing the phone on the bed beside me as I tried to process all of the new information. I couldn't believe he had a new family and that it took him almost two decades to reach out to me. I could feel anger beginning to swell, but I fought against it. After all, it would be nice to have family. And he was all I had left.

I let the tears flow freely as I put my head on Tucker's pillow. I closed my eyes, inhaling the traces of coconut that lingered from him. His concert would be beginning soon, but my body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and I couldn't force myself to move. I needed a night off. A break from all of the chaos that was life on the road.

I tried to imagine what my father's house would look like and if his son and I shared any resemblance. I always took after my mother, so the chances of that were pretty slim. Then my mind wandered to what his wife was like. Was she kind? Did she have any of the emotional issues that plagued my mother? I couldn't imagine that she would, as most of her problems seemed to stem from his abandonment of her, of us.

I hadn't even thought to ask him if he was still in New Orleans or if that was just another part of the fairy tale my parents fed me when I was little. I didn't know what to believe anymore. All I knew was I wasn't satisfied with what-ifs anymore. I needed to see him face-to-face.