Opening my mouth, I blurted out, "Why the f**k do you hate me so much?" I was breathing heavily.
My dad shook his head at me, still frowning. Then he looked away and closed his eyes. I glared at him defiantly. But I refused to relent. Staring daggers at him, I waited for him to answer instead of trying to clarify my question.
At last, he spoke softly, "Gracie, I don't hate you. What are you even talking about?"
I opened my mouth to say something but then closed it and frowned instead. It didn't make sense. Of course he hated me. Rolling my eyes, I asked, "Why do you treat me like you don't want to be around me?"
My father sighed and when I looked at him, he had his eyes closed again. Then he said softly, "Look, I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but it's not that I don't want yo
