Free Watch Over Me by Tara Sivec Page A

batter from his hands off onto his pants.
    "Eh, people say that all the time. I guess I have a common face." He turns away from
     my dad to face me and speaks softly so he can't hear us. "I'm gonna get going. I'll
     call you later."
    I look at him questioningly, trying to remember if I ever gave him my number.
    "Meg slipped me your cell phone number the last time I was here. Didn't want to make
     myself seem even more stalkerish by calling you without your knowledge," he says quietly
     with a sweet smile before he turns and quickly walks past my father with his head
     down.
    "Sir," he mumbles to my dad in good-bye as he rushes by him and out the back door.
    I wait until the door clicks shut behind Zander before I finally face my father. I'm
     angry that he's here, I'm angry that my time with Zander was cut short, especially
     when I just quite possibly received one of the best kisses of my life, and I'm angry
     that he made Zander feel uncomfortable. I'm angry and confused and I'm full of cake
     batter. I don't want him to be here. My life is good without him here. I'm used to
     him being gone and I'm used to my routine. Having him back is just going to mess everything
     up.
    "What are you doing here?"
    I don't even bother to hide the contempt in my voice. I'm done trying to keep what
     I think of him a secret. It obviously hasn't helped him in the past, so maybe if he
     knows how much I don't want him or need him here, it will finally get through to him.
    "I got out of rehab early. My counselor said I made great progress and she's confident
     that I have all of the tools I need to be healthy, so here I am," he tells me with
     a smile.
    Like it's that simple. Like some stranger who hasn't lived with him and hasn't dealt
     with his addiction day in and day out can really make an accurate assessment of him
     after only a few weeks. Each time he's been in rehab they've given him a new counselor.
     And each time, those idiots think they've cured him. I'm sure this time isn't any
     different.
    "I've got it this time, Addison, I really do."
    I sigh and turn away from him, walking over to the sink to wash my hands. I can't
     look at him right now. Even though I've learned in the last year not to trust or believe
     anything that comes out of his mouth, he still knows how to make me wonder. He still
     knows what to say to make that little voice in the back of my head say, "Maybe he's
     right. Maybe this time he really does have it."
    I'm disappointed in myself for even allowing that voice to have a say anymore. She's
     been wrong so much that I think it's high time she takes a hike.
    "I'm going to be here for you. I'm going to take over the responsibilities here at
     the shop and everything is going to go back to normal," he tells me earnestly.
    Normal? Like he even knows what that is. We haven't been normal since my mom died,
     and I find it hard to believe we ever will be again.
    I dry my hands on a towel and then take it over to start cleaning up the floor. My
     dad rushes over to my side and takes the towel from my hands.
    "Here, I've got this. You go ahead and finish getting cleaned up. I'll take care of
     things here."
    I snatch the towel back out of his hand and squat down to the floor and begin wiping
     up the mess. "No, I've got it. Just like always."
    I hear my dad sigh in defeat as he stands above me and watches. I walk back and forth
     between the mess and the sink, rinsing out the towel each time, until all of the cake
     batter is finally gone.
    "Addison, please. Just let me help you. Give me a chance," he pleads, bringing some
     of the dirty bowls and measuring cups over to me at the sink.
    I whirl around to face him and cross my arms over my chest. My hands are shaking with
     fury, and if I don't keep them glued to my body, I'll probably do something incredibly
     stupid like throw the second bowl of cake batter at him.
    "I've given you plenty of chances. Plenty . And each time you've thrown my trust and my faith in you