“W-what smell?” Shit. Damn it.
Dad’s eyes narrow on me the second I stammer. My heart thunders and the ball in my throat grows bigger until it’s blocking my breathing.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
He knows. No clue what exactly he’s aware of, but it’s there in the dip in his forehead and how he’s flexing his fingers on the table as if stopping them from balling into a fist.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Gwen?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Oh, God. There’s a full frown in his forehead now and he looks to be on the verge of breaking all hell loose.
When I first married Nate, I wasn’t scared of Dad’s reaction, because I was doing it for him, to protect this house and his assets. However, that was before I gave Nate my virginity and my stupid heart that’s hardly beating right now.
That was before I really wanted the marriage.
So I don’t know how to bring it up. Nate told me not to say anything and that he would take care of it. And that was on the few occasions we talked after Dad woke up.
He went back to his workaholic life and I took care of Dad. He brings me whatever I need, leaves me milkshakes in the morning, stocks the fridge with ice cream, and asks me if I need anything.
But that’s all.
He’s never tried to touch me, not even by accident, and he’s kept his distance, even during the time he spent here before Dad came home.
And it hits me then. He seems content with the way I cut off our physical relationship.
He seems content with being Uncle Nate again.
Those thoughts have kept me awake at night—aside from my concerns about Dad—and no amount of lying upside down has helped me sleep.
Because even now, as I get swallowed in Dad’s severe gaze, I can feel the pieces of my broken heart digging into my ribcage as I choke out, “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Why are you clinking your nails then?”
I flatten my sweaty palms on the counter, but that gets me more narrowed eyes from him.
“It’s nothing, Dad. Really.”
“When I was in a coma, I heard voices.”
“Voices?” Holy shit. Does he remember everything I talked about while he was in a coma? While I didn’t mention Nate’s name for fear of agitating him, I did talk about us and about how much of a jerk he is and how much I love being in his company. Not to mention the conversation Nate and I had the night he woke up.
“They’re still chaotic up here.” He taps the side of his head. “But I’m organizing them.”
“You don’t need to. They were probably nothing.”
“On the contrary, I believe they’re important. So if there’s anything you have to tell me, do it now before I find out on my own. And I will find out, Gwen. I always do.”
Shit. Shit.
My hand goes to my bracelet and it’s like I can feel Nate through it. As if there’s a presence there. He said he’d take care of it and I believe him. Even if I hate him right now.
“There’s really nothing, Dad. Come on, let’s take a walk.”
He doesn’t protest, but there’s tension in his shoulders and stiffness in his strides.
After lunch, he goes to take a nap in his room. He does that now, napping, and the doctor said it’s normal.
I kiss his forehead, then I hurry downstairs to keep from having an epic meltdown in front of him.
The ball in my throat grows bigger and harder as I pace the edge of the pool, my sneakers slapping against the concrete with each step.
I’m clinking my nails again, and my palms are sweaty and cold. A million thoughts about how this will be disastrous sneak into my head, crowding it with my dark ones.
What if Dad will never forgive me? What if I lose him because of my stupid crush that ended before it even started?
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about jumping again?”
I come to a screeching halt and whirl around so fast, I nearly fall backward. A strong hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me forward.
My sneakers make a squeaking sound as my head bumps against a solid chest. The same chest I hid in when I slept. The same chest I think about when I try to fall asleep and fail.
His scent hits me hard, its masculine notes of spices and woods turn my head dizzy and seep through my bloodstream so that it’s the only thing pumping in and out of my heart.
It must be because it’s been some time since I felt this or him. It’s been a long time since he’s been this close, surrounded me with his warmth, or touched me.