'Why are you here, if not for me?'
Because when I'm with him I don't have to think about what I've done. Or haven't done. He's the baddie in this story for a while, not me. And, if I'm honest with myself, my father is the one person who, if I told him what happened, would see no reason to feel guilty. No shades of grey or moral dilemmas. Black and white. That's what it always comes down to for him.
'Running away from your problems?' He tugs at my arm to get my attention. 'Or does being with me make you feel better about yourself?'
'No, that's what you do: run away,' I say.
He smiles and I can see he doesn't believe me. 'Maybe we're more alike than I thought, or than you'd like to admit.' He nods at the car. 'Let's go.'