Mr. Bryne placed his hands on my knees and clenched his jaw. “You can, Mia,” he said, voice dangerously low. His soft eyes turned hard, and all that playfulness in them completely disappeared.
“I can’t stop seeing him, nor will I.”
He shook his head at me, brows drawn down in anger. “He treats you like garbage. He barely acknowledges you. He flirts with other women right fucking in front of you.”
I scrambled to sit up in the bed and then leaped off of it, searching through his drawers for something to cover my body so I didn’t go prancing through his house, naked.
God, I didn’t need to hear this right now. I knew what Mason did. I knew why he did it. I knew that he was a shit person … but so was I for using him. Maybe we were good for each other in that way.
He hopped off the bed and snatched my wrist before I could open the door and leave. “Is that really how you want to be treated for the rest of your life, Mia?”
After yanking myself out of his hold, I stared up at him. “What else am I supposed to do?” I asked, pure rage rushing through me. It wasn’t like I had a fucking choice. Either deal with Mason or live on the fucking streets and watch Mom get thrown into another terrible facility.
“You’re acting as if you don’t have a choice.”
My jaw twitched. “So, I dump him, so I can fuck you whenever I want?” I shook my head and grabbed the door handle again. “I can’t do that. You don’t understand.”
“Enlighten me then.” He grasped my wrist and pulled me back again so I faced him. Completely naked, muscles swollen, eyes so damn intense that I had to remind myself that I shouldn’t be feeling this way. “What don’t I understand about being treated like shit? It’s only going to get worse from here.” He sounded like he was speaking from experience. “I’m trying to help you.”
All I wanted to do was tell him about everything I had been through these past few years … cry my eyes out like I had every night that first year after Mom had her accident. I wanted him to tell me that it was all going to be okay, that Mom would get better, that she was happy in a place that treated her so poorly.
But I couldn’tenlightenhim about my situation. I couldn’t tell him that the only damn reason I was still in this relationship with Mason was because of Mom. I didn’t want him to think of me as a gold-digger. I didn’t ask Mason to buy me things or take me places. I just … I wanted a place to live and for Mom to be safe.
That was all. But I was terrified that Mr. Bryne wouldn’t see it that way, and I wanted him to see me how I was, for him to treat me normally. I didn’t need his pity.
“What is holding you back?” he asked, shaking his head.
My eyes filled with tears that I promised myself wouldn’t fall. All I wanted was for Mom to be happy. After everything that had happened with Dad … she deserved more than happiness. And if I had to endure a shitty life to see her smile, then I would. I couldn’t let this little obsession with my best friend’s father get in the way.
Mr. Bryne’s eyes softened, and then he brushed his finger over a strand of hair that had fallen into my face. It was a subtle gesture, but it was more affection than Mason had given me in such a long time.
“Mia,” he said, voice low, “talk to me.”
I wrapped my arms around myself and turned away before my tears fell. “This is a mistake,” I whispered, opening his bedroom door and walking right out of the room. “We are a mistake.”
CHAPTER12
MICHAEL
It took everything I had not to follow her as she stormed down the hallway, wearing my shirt that barely covered her ass. She disappeared into the bathroom, fumbled around in it, and then came out in her tiny white bikini that I wanted to tear off again, and with a bandage that she slapped right on her thigh to hide the fact that she hadn’t actually gotten cut by glass.
When she disappeared down the stairs, I placed my hands on the doorframe and took a few deep breaths, trying to control myself. Something kept her from breaking up with Mason. She saw what I saw—that her boyfriend didn’t give a single fuck about her—but she stayed with him. Wouldn’t even consider breaking up with him.
What was it, though?
I glanced at my dresser, memories of years ago haunting my mind. Was he abusing her? She didn’t have bruises or scars, but she had fear in those deep brown eyes of hers.
The phone on my dresser buzzed. Almost as if the devil knew I had been thinking about her, Linda’s name flashed on the screen.
I picked up the phone, jaw twitching. “The next time you call me, I’m blocking your fucking number.” The only reason I hadn’t already was because of Melissa. Whenever she did go to her mom’s place, which wasn’t often, I needed a way to get hold of her in case something happened. Melissa was terrible at responding to texts. “What do you want?”
“You haven’t let Melissa throw another one of those end-of-year parties, have you?” she asked, acting like she cared. “You know she needs to study and work. She’d better not be drinking. She’s underage.”
“She’s twenty-two, Linda.”
“Still.” She paused. “She should be stud-y-ing.”
I pursed my lips. She was drunk again, like she had been almost every day we were married. I blew a deep breath out of my nose.
