Mr. H.O.A. by Carina Taylor (readera ebook reader .TXT) 📗

make her life miserable. I just can’t understand people as evil as him."

"So you walked away? And didn’t do anything to help?"

"I gave her as much cash as I could get my hands on. She’s supposed to get in touch in another year. I have a lawyer ready to help her get complete custody of her sister. After three years of being the sole guardian, it won’t be hard to get permanent custody."

"What makes this so different?"

"By the time we take him to court, it will be nearly three years of complete abandonment from the father. We’ll have a strong case."

I rocked back and forth. "I thought you didn’t care."

Dad tapped a thumb against the arm of the recliner. "You know I loved Riley. She practically lived at our house. I cared. I wish I could go back in time and tell you what was going on. She made me promise not to tell you for a while."

There was so much to process. I didn’t know what to think. Both about Riley making my dad promise not to tell, and my dad choosing to keep me in the dark.

"Why are you telling me now?"

"She hasn’t reached out to me. I expected to hear from her after she got settled in. But I don’t know where she went. I can’t help her if I can’t find her."

He stood up and came to sit next to me on the couch. "Sweetie, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything right away. I hurt you. I can’t stop thinking about the damage of keeping that promise."

I shook my head rapidly. "You care. You care. You care."

His eyebrows lifted to the middle of his forehead.

"Right now, knowing you cared, is enough."

He smiled softly. "Why don't you tell me about this Bane that you say is so much like me."

I chuckled. "Bane is, hands down, the best roommate I've ever had."

"And how long have you two dated?"

Instead of saying what I was thinking, I told him, "Oh, we're not dating. We're just trying to help each other out. Besides, he's a bit too stuffy and money conscious. You'd probably love him."

There was a gleam in his eye when he said, "I look forward to meeting him tonight."

"Uh-uh. You're not meeting him tonight. I'm going to tell him that I heard the family is coming back. We'll move out, and then we'll pretend that nothing ever happened, and he'll be none the wiser."

Dad nodded. "Aha, at least I see. He doesn't know your Sebastian Mercier's daughter."

I shook my head slowly. "Or that this is your house. You don’t have a good reputation after keeping the deposits."

With a deliberate chuckle, he rested his chin in his hand. "This should be fun."

"No, not fun. Bartholomew has been so worried that he's the worst person in the world for staying here. You're not going to add to his guilt trip. You owe him that at the least."

"What was his name?"

"Bane."

"No, you called him something else."

I called Bane so many things... "Oh, Bartholomew Fox. That's his name. But everyone just calls him Bane. I like to call him Mr. HOA."

Dad spoke quietly, "I want a chance to repair our relationship, Nola. I’ll do whatever I can to fix it."

"Will you promise to not tell Bane who you are?"

"Why not tell him?"

I coughed loudly. "We might not be happy with Sebastian Mercier right now because of The Market Street Apartment issue."

"But I’m Sebastian Mercier!"

"Exactly. If you want to meet him, I need you to be somebody else."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Homeowners Association Rule #73:

Bonfires are permitted as long as the smoke doesn’t exceed three feet in the air.

Knock knock knock.

"Who could that be?" Bane asked. "I already settled another noise dispute when I pulled in the driveway."

"Maybe it's someone complaining about bringing their own towels to the pool."

Bane glared at me as he rose to get the door.

He opened the door, but all I could see was a bright red floral shirt. It was painful to my eyes, and I didn't know what to make of it.

"Hello, can I help you?" Bane asked.

"Yeah, I think you sure can," a booming voice answered.

"Oh no," I groaned.

I recognized that tone and inflection. When I was a kid, my dad would tell me stories about Miner Pete. He had a specific country twang he used for the character. And it was the same voice he was using right then to speak with Bane. Why would he wear such an awful printed shirt?

"I think you might have the wrong house," Bane said slowly.

"No, I don't. Nola! You home, Nola?" he yelled over Bane's shoulder.

I slowly trudged to the front door and slipped around Bane. Bane reached out and grasped my arm firmly, squeezing it. "Do you know this man?"

"You remember him, don't you, Bane?" I looked at him with what I hoped was an innocent expression.

"No...I don't."

"He lived on the fourth floor with me. He's an old neighbor of ours at The Market Street Apartments."

Bane studied Dad with a skeptical look, his eyes landing on the very-loud shirt.

"I think I would have remembered him if I’d met him."

I shrugged, "Well, look at how you and I barely met until we were moving out. Bane, I'd like you to meet my next-door neighbor." I turned to look at Dad. I bit my lip to hold back a grin. His eyes narrowed in warning at me. "Bane, Sally. Sally, Bane. Why don't you come in and we can chat?"

I motioned for Dad to come inside. Bane stepped between Dad and me and placed a protective hand on my back, pushing me back a little farther. "I don't know if it's the best idea. We have to get ready for that thing, right?"

That 'thing' was nothing, but Bane was trying to give us an out.

"Don't worry about me," Dad said as he kicked off his shoes and dropped a duffel bag on the floor. "I'll just make myself right at home here. You go on about your business."

He walked straight into