I shrank under his intense scrutiny and tried not to gag from the rancid odor of whiskey wafting from his skin and breath. My gut said he wouldn’t cause me physical harm, but he was clearly in an aggressive state of mind. I looked pleadingly at Finn to step in.

Finn briefly closed his eyes. “She’s my friend, Dad.”

Friend. The snub cut like a knife, but I shook it off. The timing wasn’t right to introduce his father to his girlfriend, was all.

Finn kicked the glass to the side. “You shouldn’t be here, Adina.”

I whispered, “When you didn’t respond to my texts, I got worried.” I tried to communicate with my eyes. What happened? Are you okay? Is he okay? I hoped to God his dad hadn’t driven from Middletown to Pleasant Hollow in this condition.

“I can hear you. Voices carry.” Mr. Adams sang to himself, then yelled, “Hush hush!” before bursting into laughter.

At least someone was amused. I was legit freaked out, and Finn…well…I couldn’t even pretend to have any idea where his head was. My gaze landed on more broken glass on the floor and the overturned chair in the corner. “Is there…is there anything I can do?”

“Did you bring tacos?” Mr. Adams said, his demeanor suddenly relaxed. His face shone with hope, and for a moment, he looked almost childlike.

“I…um…no. Sorry.” My throat thickened. He’d asked Finn to bring him tacos—his late wife’s favorite—and Finn had put him off for my farewell tour. Shit. “We could order takeout.” Except none of the restaurants in Pleasant Hollow served tacos. I turned to Finn. “Or what about delivery? Or can I bring him water or coffee…or something else?”

Running errands was a small thing, but it was a thing just the same. For so long, Finn had been his dad’s only caretaker—an odd word, considering the size and imposing presence of his father—but I was here now. I could help.

“Or…or…or…,” Mr. Adams mimicked. “Or, you can get the hell out and let me celebrate my wife’s birthday with my son.” He sneered at me, no longer resembling a little boy in a grown man’s body.

“Stop it, Dad. Please sit down.” Finn picked up the chair.

I clamped my teeth shut to contain some harsh words that were dying to come out. He might be an obstinate, nasty man, but he was also Finn’s father. I couldn’t say Finn hadn’t warned me.

Mr. Adams moved to sit and thought better of it. “What’s with the pink hair?”

I reflexively touched my head. Yup. Still there.

He tilted toward me, his torso leaning forward and back while his feet remained on the ground, and pulled my hair. “Ugly.”

I winced, my eyes stinging from the shock.