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“What kind of a father could do that?! It was bad enough—” I cut him off. “Wait, what?” I snapped my head toward him, knowing my gaze was glassy, the corners of my eyes stinging with tears that had forced their way to the surface. “How could your dad do that to you, let alone at this time of the year? And after everything with your mom—Christmas is about family.” “Wait,” I sniffed, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands. “You were calling my dad a prick?” “Yeah, who else? Why are you cryin— Oh, Harper, no, I didn’t mean you.” — Shaye Evans
What kind of a father could do that?! It was bad enough—”
I cut him off. “Wait, what?” I snapped my head toward him, knowing my gaze was glassy, the corners of my eyes stinging with tears that had forced their way to the surface.
“How could your dad do that to you, let alone at this time of the year? And after everything with your mom—Christmas is about family.”
“Wait,” I sniffed, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands. “You were calling my dad a prick?”
“Yeah, who else? Why are you cryin— Oh, Harper, no, I didn’t mean you.