19

                                    

                                          
Chapter 19 || Isaac Xavier Bishop wasn't capable of love
;you were the hardest lesson I ever had to learn


                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          

"It's your dad again, angel." Asher calls out from the kitchen.
I roll my eyes and bury myself further into the blanket nest I've created on the sofa.
"Ignore it." I mumble.
Asher saunters in with a cup of coffee in one hand, my phone in the other, sinking in beside me and placing my feet on his thighs.
I honestly don't know what I'd have done without him.
Despite me being an emotional, crying mess and begging him to leave me so I could wallow in self-pity alone, he didn't bat an eyelid and refused to go last night, staying with me as I cried myself to sleep with my head on his lap as he stroked my hair. No words were necessary, he knew, I knew he had me.
Isaac called and texted but I wasn't ready to hear him out just yet. Not while I'm still hurt at the fact he could take something he knew was somewhat special to me and run off the next morning to do it again with someone who's more experienced.
Asshole, springs to mind.
And not only did I have Isaac and Tom belling off my phone, now my dad too.
In no head space to speak to him without breaking down again, I've ignored his twenty something missed calls - for him to call me that much should be worrisome, for any other dad it probably would be - but with my dad it's because he can't handle the fact he doesn't know what I'm doing and/or if I'm sticking to his god forsaken rules.
I did however send him a quick message letting him know I'll call him later, to my irritation that didn't stop him calling me mercilessly.
My phone bellows out that god-awful iPhone ringtone as it vibrates on my glass coffee table.
Ignore it.
As soon as the phone shuts up, a text comes through.
"Want it?" Asher asks, TV controller in one hand, coffee in the other as he flicks through the channels.
"Ugh." I groan. "Please."
He leans forward, grabs my phone and hands it too me.

Dad sent an image JP2230982
A picture? I open the message and enlarge the picture.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no,no,no,nonooooooo.
This can't be happening!!
My throat swells up and I'm hardly able to breathe. Pores open hitting me with a harsh flush of cold sweats. Hands shake uncontrollably which causes my phone to drop from my hands and hit the floor.