My mouth falls open again as I form fists at my side, wondering if I can get away with punching him in the nose like my brothers taught me as a child.
“Amelia slept in a guest room; however, I’m insulted at the insinuation. They are children andI’ma good parent.” I jab at my chest, angered by the implication. I’d never allow something to happen to Amelia, even with my own son, at such a young age.
Suddenly, I’m vibrating. A flash of memory I do not want nor need right now whispers through my head.
“And you’re implying I’mnota good parent?” Henry fires back.
“You know what, Daddy? I’d love a second breakfast,” Amelia interjects, quickly standing and setting the book down on the chair.
I hate how she’s trying to diffuse a situation between adults and a second memory crosses my mind.
Attempting to get between Sebastian and my father.
Yelling at Knox that nothing happened.
With a gut punch sensation in my belly, I glance at Amelia, full of sympathy and fear for her. She’s eleven. A child. An innocent girl who missed her stuffed animal last night and slept with a bear to protect her in a strange-to-her house.
Everything in me says to intervene. To tell Amelia she doesn’t need to go with him. She can stay with me, here at the park. Read her book. Ignore her dad. I did it as best I could most of my life, but the triggers have me paralyzed, and within minutes, Amelia has her father by the hand, leading him away from me. Henry isn’t reciprocating her touch as much as allowing her to tug him along and I sink into the camp chair, caught in the crossfire of painful memories, shame, and confusion.
I watch Amelia leave with Henry before I glance toward the ballfield to find Cort’s eyes are on me. He steps forward but I shake my head, warning him not to come near me.
If he gets too close, I’m going to shatter.
And the last thing I want is Cortland Haven seeing all my pieces.
16
[Cort]
Ican’t believe I let that fucker Henry Stanton rile me.
And I also can’t believe I slept a good portion of the night at Vale’s house. It was risky, dangerous even, but I’d slept better in her bed than I’d slept in a long, long time.
The moment I saw her standoff with Henry, something inside me kicked in.Mine. I didn’t want him near her, speaking to her, breathing the air she breathes, and I reacted. Over-reacted.
I’m well aware Vale can take care of herself. Iknowshe’s been doing it for a while, but I don’t want Henry thinking she’s available to him or propositioning her. If I thought Vale wanted Henry, I’d back off like I have for twelve fucking years, but everything in me says Vale wants nothing to do with Henry.
She wants me.
The idea is baffling and selfish, but Vale Sylver is attracted to me. I see it in the way she looks at me, a hunger in her eyesthat matches the starving hollowness in my gut. Heard it in the hitch of her breath when I caressed the inside of her wrist. Witnessed her dig her teeth into her lush lower lip when I captured her fingers.
Like maybe she’s as hungry for my touch as I am for hers.
If she hated me, like most of her family, she’d have declined being my therapist and kicked me to the curb last night when I stormed her house. Hell, I had one foot out the door when she invited me to her room, and that feels telling.
I just wish I fully understood what she wants.
Unfortunately, I don’t even know what I want from her. Her hands on me, yes, which is confusing in and of itself. But I also want to know more about Vale. More about Hudson. The story she told me about his absentee father hasn’t left my thoughts.
And all these memories are flooding back into my head.
Summer twelve years ago. Vale and the Falls. Something tempting about her despite my mental state. A momentary lapse in judgment.
I’ve always wondered if Vale remembers the fine details. I’m not certain she could forget. I fucking wept afterward, ashamed of myself for taking advantage of her sudden presence and willing body. Embarrassed that I wasn’t in the right head space, and yet I slid into her body like it was the only place I wanted to be. I hadn’t even kissed her.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I glance over at Vale who looks like she’s about to shatter. Her face is blanched. Her posture is rigid as she sits in her camp chair. She looks like she’s seen a ghost, and I take a step in her direction.
With her eyes aimed toward me, she weakly holds up a hand, telling me with both those cloudy eyes and stiff limbs to keep my distance.
