That old, familiar mockery in his tone nearly makes me throw up. Every instinct I have is telling me to turn around and run, to put as much distance between us as possible. But my whole life is just inside that building, and I’m not going anywhere without her.
“You need to leave. Now.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
“Leave?” He laughs, but it’s a dark, bitter sound. “I came all this way to see my daughter, and you think I’m just gonna leave?”
“You have no claim on her.”
His expression darkens. “The hell I don’t. I’m on the birth certificate, remember? Or did you conveniently forget that detail when you stole her from me?”
“I didn’t steal her. I left you. There’s a difference.”
“You left in the middle of the night like a thief.” He takes a step closer, and I have to force myself not to back away. “You took my kid and changed your number. You both disappeared off the face of the earth, and for what? So you could shack up with some dumbass hockey player?”
“How do you know about—” I start to say Grant’s name, but think better of it. “How did you even find me?”
“You think I can’t do a simple internet search? I saw the pictures from some game, and there you were. Imagine my surprise to see you and April sitting right behind the glass. Real cozy.” His lip curls into a sneer. “Grant Parker, the big shot goalie. Is that who you’re whoring around with now?”
My blood runs cold and my whole body starts to go numb as I realize what he’s saying. He was able to find me, to piece together enough information that he could show up at April’s school, because of the choices I’ve made. Because Grant and I decided to go public with our relationship. Because the private, safe little world I’ve built for myself and April over the years doesn’t exist anymore.
April’s school is on lockdown and she’s probably terrified in there because of my lack of foresight, and I shudder to think of what would’ve happened if the principal hadn’t intervened.
God, just the thought of Steven leaving the school grounds with her is enough to put me into a blind rage.
“Leave.” The word comes out of my mouth with a dangerous growl that surprises both of us, and I get a split-second of satisfaction from seeing his eyes go wide before he schools his expression again. “Get the hell out of here and don’t come back.”
“What? You can move on with your life, but I can’t even see my own daughter?”
“You lost the right to see her when you—” I stop myself, swallowing the words. I won’t do this here. I refuse to give himthe satisfaction of seeing how easily he can still get under my skin.
“When I what?” He moves closer again, and now I can feel the anger radiating from him. I don’t think he’ll try anything too crazy out here in public—in a schoolyard, no less—but I can’t be sure. “When I tried to make you into something better than what you were? When I supported you?”
“You supported me?” The words taste bitter. “Is that what you call it?”
“I gave you a place to live. I put a roof over your head. And how did you repay me?” He’s right in front of me now, too close, invading my space the way he always did. “You took everything and ran.”
“I took my daughter away from a bad situation.”
“Oh, please. A bad situation?” He practically spits the words. “You were always so dramatic, Heather. Always making everything into some big tragedy.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. This is exactly what he always does. He twists everything until I start to doubt my own reality.
But I’m not the scared girl that he used to push around so easily. I’m not the same person who cowered in his apartment, or who made herself small and quiet and agreeable just to keep the peace.
“I want you to leave,” I say again, pulling on every ounce of my self-control to keep my own anger in check. “If you don’t, I’m calling the police.”
“And tell them what? That a father is trying to see his daughter? Good luck with that. I have rights.”
“So do I. I’ll get a restraining order if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you away from April.”
“That’s not your choice to make anymore.” He reaches out suddenly and grabs my upper arm, digging his fingers in hardenough to leave a bruise. “You think you can just decide I don’t get to see my own kid? You’re the judge, the jury, and the executioner now?” He gives my arm a shake, and I bite down hard on my tongue to keep from crying out in pain as he squeezes harder. “Is that how you think this works?”
He loosens his grip just enough for me to jerk my arm away, and the momentum of my body makes me stumble back a step. My skin is burning where he grabbed me, and I can already feel the bruise forming.
“Don’t fucking touch me, Steven.”
“Or what?” He follows, closing the distance again. “You’ll tell your boyfriend? Do you really think he’s gonna come save you?”
“I don’t need anyone to save me.” My heart is hammering so hard I’m surprised he can’t hear it. “I need you to leave. Now.”
