“But it could. It could start bothering you one day because those things are not forever and you need to take it easy.”
“Well, I don’t have such luxury as a single mother, Severin,” I snap, throwing the washcloth into the sink. “I can’t take it easy.”
Suddenly, my body is moving without me as he pushes me away from the sink and starts washing the dishes instead.
“What are you—”
“Your brother, has he bothered you again?”
“Your change of topics is giving me whiplash.” I go to try and take the dishes away from him, but he won’t let me.
“You want to go back to talking about your heart?” Severin challenges, and I purse my lips.
“No, Aaron hasn’t shown up again.” I pick up a drying towel. “He can usually go for a few weeks with the money I give him.”
“You give him money?” he grits out.
“Yes. It’s easier that way.”
“Why? How?”
“Because Aaron thinks I owe it to him.” I sigh, feeling his probing haze on me. “Our mother left after I was born, and for reasons unknown to me, my brother blames me for that. Always has, and we’ve never had a good relationship because of it. And then things got worse when Dad was diagnosed with Huntington’s disease.” I draw a deep breath. “And then it turned downright disastrous when Aaron and I both got tested… I don’t have it,” I quickly add when I see Severin’s muscles tighten. “But Aaron does.”
“And he blames you for that.”
I huff out a humorless laugh. “You guessed it. Anyway, it’s late…I’m sure you have a game or practice, or something in the morning.”
“You’ve been trying to get rid of me ever since I showed up.”
I drop the towel I was pretending to wipe the counter with. “Yes, I have.”
“Why?”
“Because I think it’s actually best if you don’t come by anymore.”
“Why?”
I take a deep breath. “Because Emett is getting attached and the last thing I want is for my son to be heartbroken.”
“That makes two of us.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I snap.
“Why?”
“Because I know men like you. You find a new shiny toy and think it’ll be fun to play with it for a bit, and then the toy loses its shine, maybe a piece or two breaks off and now it’s no longer fun. So you throw it away. And I can’t have you throw away my son’s heart.”
“And yours? What about your heart?”
“Mine doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.” He pauses. “What if I don’t want to leave?”
“Then why does it feel like you hate me half the time?” I whisper the words I don’t dare say out loud.
Suddenly, his eyes shift, taking on one of those looks I can’t decipher and his voice hard when he asks, “What gave me away?”
He doesn’t deny it.He doesn’t deny it, and I suck in a sharp breath, gripping the counter behind me.
