“Don’t like the food?” Larry’s tone is not warm. Not hostile either. Just measured.
“It’s fine.” I’m not about to explain the headache or the way the kitchen light bothers my eyes. It would only make Ryan worry, and I don’t need to add to his stress.
It’s also not the first concussion I’ve had. They’re common in hockey.
I pick up my spoon and eat. Helps I’m fucking starving. I haven’t had anything since lunch yesterday.
Ryan grabs a wedge of grilled cheese. He takes a small bite, then picks at the crust.
Fuck.
He’s not eating. Can’t imagine he even wants to. Can’t even comprehend what he’s truly feeling because I have no idea what it’s like to lose my entire family. On my fucking birthday, no less.
Then again, if itweremy family, I might actually be celebrating. Especially if it was my mother, who just had to fuck with my husband when he’s barely holding it together. Bet she did it on purpose. Afterall, my parents admitted to having their head of security look into my husband, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that bitch decided to fuck with him because she knows his family died around this time.
Nothing she does is coincidental. Every strike is meant to destroy.
Wish that cunt would die.
Larry reaches across and rests his hand on Ryan's forearm. Just sets it there. No hesitation. “Kiddo, you need to eat more than that.”
Ryan doesn't flinch. Doesn't freeze. Just keeps picking at the crust. “I know.”
My jaw clenches so hard a spike shoots up behind my temple. I want that. My hand on him like it’s nothing. His body not bracing like I’m a threat. I crave it so badly it makes me shake.
Larry steeples his fingers and finally looks at me. “Gonna give it to you straight, Mr. Walsh. I don’t want you in my house. And I don’t want you with Ryan. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?”
Mr. Walsh.
That’s my father’s fucking name. Not mine.
I force my tongue against the back of my teeth until the urge to spit back something nuclear passes. “I made a mistake.”
“Mistakeis leaving the milk out. Not blackmailing my son with his scholarship to force him into marriage.” He doesn’t say more, just keeps his gaze locked with mine.
Ryan didn’t tell him about the gun? About drugging him?
My husband sits across the table, staring at his plate as if he’s not even there.
I set my spoon down and meet Larry’s gaze again. “I fucked up. I get it. Don’t expect you to like me. Don’t even like myself half the time. But I love—”
“I don’t approve, Mr. Walsh.”
“Can we not—” Ryan’s voice is small and raw at the edges.
Larry reaches over and squeezes his forearm. “Kiddo, I won’t pretend this is normal.” His eyes cut back to me. “Divorce him. This wholemarriage—”
“No!” Ryan slams his hands down on the table. “My choice. Remember.”
My heart beats fast, my mouth agape as I stare at him.
Ryan’s choosing me. Not to shield me from my father.
But me.
“Kiddo, this isn’t what you deserve. Not by a long shot. What he did . . . Ryan, it hurts me to even think about it.”
My husband sighs, slumping in the chair. “I don’t want him to go.”
