TREY
What the f**k would you do?
Seriously. What the f**k would you do if you had to drag yourself onto a last-minute flight back home because your sperm donor of a father decided to blow up your phone?
I ignored it at first. After all, I was in somewhat of a good mood, and I wasn’t about to ruin it by listening to his voice.
So what did the bastard do? He used the one thing he knows gets to me. The only thing. He leveraged it like the cold, calculating parasite he is, knowing that no matter how dead my heart is supposed to be, mentioning that topic forces my pulse to jump every single f*****g time.
I was forced onto a red-eye straight to LA. I had to bow my head, grit my teeth, and submit to his demands once again–demands that were infinitely worse than anything he’s ever thrown at m
