CHAPTER TWELVE

"You are never going to be my father..." I declared so it would sink into him.

His knuckles were white where they gripped the steering wheel, the car finally jerking to a halt. Outside, the road was a desert, just a long, shimmering ribbon of asphalt baking under the afternoon sun. He didn’t turn to look at me. He just sat there, staring fixedly through the windshield as if he’d forgotten how to breathe and was trying to relearn the rhythm.

"Don’t ever do that again," he warned.

"Why?" I snapped, the bitterness rising in my throat. "Because I shouldn’t kiss my dad?" I spat the word out, and it tasted like copper on my tongue. "Fine. Then I don’t want you as a father."

"Stop throwing a tantrum, Yuna. You’re twenty years old."

The condescension made my head throb. "You think this is a tantrum?"

"We’ll talk about this later," he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand toward the window. "After your date with your boyfriend."

"He’s not my boyfriend!"

"He will be." He drew the line wi