“What?”
“I’d have helped you,” he repeats. “Got him the best lawyer. Torn his old company to shreds, if that’s what you wanted.”
I stare at him.
I came in here because of the way he treated me last night. That hasn’t suddenly been made all better because he got concerned over a cut and is talking like this.
“It’s not your problem.”
“It’s affecting you, so it is my problem,” he all but growls.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
He’s going to give me whiplash, acting like he did last night, then going wild with concern this morning, and saying things like this.
“Keep it there,” he instructs, ignoring me and placing my hand over his tie on my finger.
He walks over to a cabinet and opens a drawer, coming back with a first aid kit. He places it on the desk and opens it.
“Let me see,” he instructs softly.
I remove his tie and hold my finger up. His brow furrows and he curses quietly like the sight of the small cut upsets him as he inspects it.
“It won’t need stitches. It’s not that deep,” he says.
“I know.”
He arches a brow at me, his eyes meeting mine momentarily,before he gets an antiseptic wipe and takes his time cleaning the cut. Once he’s done he unwraps a band-aid and secures it on my skin.
“Teddy bears?”
His eyes flick to mine, the grim line of his mouth softening as he packs the kit away.
“They’re Molly’s. And they’re explorer bears.”
I scan his profile, before looking back at the band-aid. The tiny bears are wearing clothes and carrying compasses.
“Uh-huh,” I murmur.
Sullivan’s jaw clenches and he clears his throat. “I’m sorry about last night. I’ve never… no one’s ever been at the house with me like that since Molly came along.”
Something about his tone and difficulty in getting the words out makes me believe he’s being honest.
“And I’d have understood if that’s what you told me. But you didn’t. You threw me out afterward, saying it meant nothing.”
I turn away, pretending to look around his office, instead of at him. I came here to give him a piece of my mind. Yet here I am again, weakening the moment he’s nice to me. So desperate to cling onto something that isn’t there. To believe the glimpses of the man I thought he is, are real.
They aren’t.
I slide off his desk. Coming here was pointless. It’s time to walk out and not look back.
“I made a mistake. It meant everything,” he says to my back.
I freeze halfway across the room at his choked confession.
“Tate,” he urges. “Look at me.”
If I do as he asks, that could be it. I’ll be sucked into his gaze, never to return.
