His body tightens during my outburst. His nostrils are flaring and his chest nearly bursts from his heavy breathing. When he speaks, his voice is calm but tight. “What are you saying, Gwyneth?”
“I’m saying that you don’t get to touch me unless you’re willing to give me more.”
“I don’t do feelings and that’s fucking final.”
“Then I won’t do sex. That’s also final.”
“Gwyneth,” he growls.
“What, Nate? What? If you want a whore, go pick one off the side of the street.”
He grabs me hard by the shoulders and shakes me. “Don’t you ever—and I mean, ever—think of yourself as a whore, do you hear me?”
“That’s what you make me feel like!” My voice raises and I hate it, because that’s not true. He doesn’t make me feel like a whore, not when he always takes care of me and makes sure my comfort comes before his.
But that’s what I’m supposed to think, right? If he doesn’t have feelings for me and doesn’t intend to, then how am I any different from a whore?
Nate releases me with a shove and I flinch from the gutting harshness in his expression.
“I see.” He turns around. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”
And with that, he’s out of the room.
I fall to my seat, and the milkshake hits the floor and spills all over it. And with it, my tears.
Because I know, I just know, something just broke between us and there’s probably nothing that can fix it.
31
Gwyneth
“Welcome home.”
Dad smiles as he steps into the living room. He doesn’t even need me or the crutches anymore. He only needed some physical rehabilitation, but zero mental.
In ten days, he was able to walk, talk, and when Daniel and Knox came to visit, he even scolded them for cases they almost lost a few days before his accident.
He remembers everything.
The doctor said it’s because he didn’t have severe damage to his brain, which is why he was able to make a fast recovery.
And just like that, I have my dad back.
I still can’t believe it as we walk together into our home. Even though he’s wearing his shirt and pants, he doesn’t fill them like before. He’s lost weight and often appears wary, as if there’s something heavy perching on his shoulders. So I massage those shoulders, hopping now and then because Dad is really tall.
His critical gaze roams over the place, taking in every nook and every surface as if he’s searching for something.
Or someone.
I stop my hopping and step in front of him in an attempt to distract him. “How does it feel to be back home?”
“Different.”
“Different how?”
“It smells different.”
A ball the size of my fist gathers in my throat. Shit. It’s Dad’s weirdly sensitive nose.
I predicted he’d detect anything that’s out of the ordinary, so Martha and I scrubbed the house clean after Nate moved out. He left a few days ago when the doctor confirmed that Dad would be able to come home. Hell, I washed some of Dad’s wardrobe and sprayed my perfume and my father’s cologne everywhere. He can’t possibly smell him.
I’m just being paranoid, right?
Because if Dad finds out about Nate and me this soon, it’ll get ugly. The entire situation is already ugly. I don’t want it to be even uglier.
“It must be the cupcakes I made yesterday.”
“It’s not those.”
I swallow and link my arm with his. “Do you want some?”
“Sure, I missed your cupcakes.”
We go to the kitchen and he sits on the stool as I busy myself behind the counter, putting the cupcakes on a plate.
“I’m telling you, Dad. These cupcakes became a hit at W&S. I’ve been getting clingy texts the past couple of days because I was with you and didn’t bring any.”
“Who are the assholes who dare be clingy to my angel?” Dad takes a bite of a cupcake and a small smile twitches his lips. “Chocolate. I thought any flavor other than vanilla is blasphemy.”
“It is, but apparently, chocolate is popular.”
“Apparently. Presumptuous chocolate.”
“I know, right?” I lean over on the counter to watch him closely.
I’ve been doing that a lot lately, watching him, making sure he’s actually awake and right in front of me.
The thought of losing him again keeps me up at night.
After he finishes the cupcake, he sniffs the air, or more like, me. “That smell again.”