My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 44 Sacred

NOVA POV

When I was seven, my biggest worry in the world was whether my Barbie had the right shoes on her plastic feet. Pink heels for parties, white flats for the doctor’s office, and no matter what, her hair had to stay braided because I was terrible at brushing it once it got tangled.

That was all I cared about; my Barbie’s shoes, the little imaginary houses I built out of cereal boxes, and waiting up at night to hear the front door creak open when Dad finally came home.

I remember this night like it’s happening all over again. The air smelled faintly of roasted chicken from dinner and the hum of the television filled the living room, something Mom had probably left on in the background. The carpet under my knees scratched a little, and the only light came from the lamp by the couch, its glow turning everything soft and golden.

I was sprawled on the rug with Barbie in one hand and a tiny plastic comb in the other, humming to myself and fighting sleep so I could be awake when Dad came home. My eyes kept fluttering shut, but the thrill of hearing his key in the lock always jolted me awake.

Then I heard the familiar scrape of a key sliding into the door, the metallic rattle of the knob, the thud of a briefcase against the wall, the tired sigh of my father stepping inside and the gentle sound of Mother kissing him welcome.

I didn’t jump up to greet him. I liked to play this game where I pretended to be asleep and waited for him to come over to my corner. Sometimes he’d tickle me until I burst out laughing, obviously caught. Other times he’d scoop me up and carry me to bed, whispering soft words of how much he loved me into my hair.

Sometimes he’d just tuck a blanket around me and kiss my forehead. Either way, it was proof that even if he came home tired and grumpy, I still mattered enough to him as his precious princess.

But this night didn’t go like that.

Because when Dad bent down to set his briefcase on the floor, the latch must’ve been loose. The case tilted just enough, and something small and shiny slid out, landing right where my Barbie doll had been waiting for her next accessory.

It was so ordinary looking, just a silver stick with a little black cap, but under the yellow lamplight it gleamed like treasure. And when you’re seven, shiny things are automatically magical.

I giggled under my breath and reached for it, already imagining Barbie holding it like a magic wand or maybe it could be a tiny suitcase of her own. The smooth plastic was cool in my hand and I turned it over and over, marveling at how perfectly it fit Barbie’s size.

Then Dad turned his head and noticed.

It was as if the entire room shifted, like the air got heavier. One second he was just my father, smelling faintly of cologne and sweat, lines of exhaustion overcrowding his face. The next, his eyes locked on me and that small shiny thing in my hand, and it was like a switch flipped.

"Nova." His voice didn’t sound like his voice. It was too sharp, too strange, and for the first time in my little life, I was scared of him.

I froze with Barbie still clutched in one hand, the shiny object in the other.

"Look, Daddy. It’s ... it’s Barbie’s suitcase!" I said proudly, holding it up for him to see.

His reaction wasn’t what I expected. He snatched it from my hand so fast it made my fingers sting. His knuckles were white as he shoved it back into the briefcase and snapped the lock shut with a loud click.

"Don’t. Nova, don’t you ever touch that again."

My eyes went wide. His tone was strict, like I had done something dangerous without realizing it, and that’s unlike my daddy.

"But... why?"

My seven-year-old brain couldn’t wrap around why he suddenly looked like I had broken the most important rule in the world.

Dad crouched down until we were eye level. His hands cupped my cheeks, rough and trembling just slightly. I’d never seen his eyes look like that, like he was scared of something I couldn’t see, and that made my seven-year-old self even more scared.

"Because that’s not a toy, Nova. That thing... It decides who lives and who dies. Do you understand me?"

Of course I didn’t. I was seven.

"But it’s just shiny," I whispered.

"Promise me." His grip tightened just a little and it didn’t hurt me, but it made my stomach twist. Why was Daddy being scary?

"Promise me you’ll never touch it again. Ever."

My lips wobbled. "I promise." Even though I didn’t understand why a shiny piece of metal could make Daddy that scared, I planned never to touch it again. I didn’t want to see this side of him. I wanted my cool Daddy back.

And just like that, the switch flipped back. His expression softened, his thumb brushed away the single tear that escaped down my cheek, and he kissed my forehead.

"Good girl. Daddy just wants to keep you safe."

"I know, Daddy," I whispered softly as he kissed me and Mummy wrapped us all in a giant cuddly hug.

He tucked me into bed a few minutes later, like nothing had happened. But even under my blanket, clutching Barbie to my chest, I couldn’t stop thinking about the shiny little stick that made my father’s voice shake.

It stopped being a toy in my mind that night. It became sacred. Something powerful. Something dangerous.

Months later, when our house went up in flames and took both of my parents with it, I told myself that shiny object must have burned too. I never saw it again. Never let myself think about it.

But that was until tonight.

Until it slipped between Luca and Grant like fate had been waiting years to spit me right back into that moment on the rug, with Barbie in my hand and my father’s fear burning into my skin.

The shiny little thing that survived the fire.

The shiny little thing that might have killed them.

The shiny little thing that just might decide if I live or die now.

•••••••Back to Reality••"How did you get that?"

I asked again, watching Luca pick the flash up into his pocket, not sure they heard me the first time. My throat felt raw, my eyes blurred with unshared tears and buried memories.

"How did I get what, Cara Mia?"

"Don’t Cara Mia me, Luca. Where did you get that flash?"

"What can I say, Cara Mia?" the idiot laid emphasis on the Cara Mia like he knew it crawled under my skin. "Where did you think I got it from?"

His eyes taunted me like he was aware of the memory playing in my head. Like he knew how valuable that flash was to me. The value it held and how sacred it had been to Papa while he was alive.

"I hate to break y’all’s miserable party but I think it’s high time you leave my hotel."

Grant’s voice was cold and emotionally empty, like he wasn’t the same man exchanging bloodthirsty blows with Luca earlier.

"Be rest assured, Granny. My mission here is fulfilled. Let’s be on our way, Mia Cara." Luca reached for me, faking intimacy like I mattered to him when we both know he doesn’t give a fuck about anything except his petty revenge.

"No. I’ll stay."

I voiced out in a fake bravado I definitely wasn’t feeling.

His smile was saccharine sweet as he wrinkled his eyebrows at me, maintaining eye contact. "Are you sure, Cara Mia?"

"If she said she doesn’t want to go with you then let her be," Grant spoke up again, obviously listening to our conversation.

"Hmmm.." Luca sighed loudly as if truly considering Grant’s words before he dipped his hand into his pocket and not so subtly flashed the flash before returning it again.

"If you say so, Cara Mia. Guess I’ll be on my way."

"Wait." I blurted before thinking things through. I might hate Luca but I need answers only he can provide, and I won’t let my personal opinion get in the way— or the hurt I saw flash in Grant’s eyes as I grabbed Luca’s arm.

"Wait," Grant said, making his way to me.

"Nova, you know you can talk to me," he said softly, maintaining eye contact with me. And I swear I almost gave in to the silent promise and trust his eyes were asking of me. I almost lunged at him and begged for forgiveness while confessing every single lie. But I need answers.

"Yes. Nova, maybe you should stay back and talk to him." I hate Luca, and now I’m tempted to stab him to death with the way he’s exaggerating things and putting me and Grant in a more vulnerable position.

"I’m sorry, Grant," I whispered brokenly, clinging to Luca’s outstretched arm.

Grant stretched out his own arm, waiting for me to loop mine through.

"If you’re sorry then come to me."

"I’m—" Luca interrupted our melodramatic conversation.

"Come to you? The same you that kicked her out of your house before dawn? Talk about tragic fuck, or is this your messed up definition of love?"

"Lucaaa..." I groaned out with eyes closed in desperation.

"I can’t blame him though, he has never been loved. Guess that’s why he doesn’t know how to love right."

"Luca," I said more firmly this time, a warning. I don’t know their history but Luca is treading on dangerous territories, and even I can sense it.

"Ask him, Cara Mia. His mother is still alive, wants nothing to do with his funky ass, and his father would rather spend all his time and attention on stallions than on him. Is that why you’re desperate for a college girl’s love and pussy?"

"Luca." I’m begging this time.

"Come on, say something Granny. Now’s not the time to fake demure and class. You’ve never had it to begin with."

"Let’s go. Luca, please."

"Shut up, bitch." He roared at me and I flinched as if slapped.

No one and I repeat, no one, has ever shouted at me like that, not even my crackhead of a godmother.

I stilled, and before I could react a punch flew by my head and landed on Luca’s nose. I could hear the crunch of bone breaking as blood gushed down.

"She is not yours to call a bitch. Don’t you dare." Grant, who hadn’t replied to all the personal taunts against him, raised his fists to defend me and I knew, more than ever before, that I don’t deserve him.

"But she’s mine to take home and fuck as I wish. How about that, Calloway?" Luca’s smug smile was nauseating as he wiped his bleeding nose clean with his handkerchief.

"Fuck? Nova, did he just say fuck?"

"Grant... I’m sorry... I swear it’s not what—"

"It’s not what?" Grant growled angrily.

"She even calls me Daddy," Luca added in a mocking tone, and Grant breaking a mirror was the last thing I saw before Luca pushed me outside and dragged me to his car, quickly fleeing from the scene like the joker he was.

A few minutes into the ride, the driver took another turn, the opposite of my hostel.

"I’d like to drop."

"No. You’re staying overnight with me."

"But that’s not part of the deal." I nearly sobbed.

"It is now. Unless you don’t want any answers."

I swallowed my retort and focused on the view outside the window as I was led like a cow to the slaughterhouse.

My phone beeped with a message.

Probably the girls, I thought, until I checked and saw Grant’s name. I rushed to open it, and the text there had me rethinking my reckless actions.

Grant: (Where are you? Let’s talk. I’m ready to listen to you.)

I started typing, but before I typed the first word my phone was snatched away from my hand by no other person than the big bad wolf, Luca.

"What?" I couldn’t hide my irritation as He switched off my phone right before my eyes and pocketed it in his inner jacket before adding in a smug voice:

"No phone till tomorrow. New rule."