Page 83 of Sexting My Ex’s Dad

I keep moving anyway, rinsing plates that don’t need rinsing, wiping a counter that’s already clean, and stacking Ivy’s little fork and her sticky plate like order will make my brain cooperate.

“You asked,” I say finally, and my voice comes out low and careful. “So I’m going to answer.”

Nathan nods once, then his eyes flick toward the hallway. The apartment feels too silent without Ivy, and I’m very aware that the quiet makes everything louder. “She’s fine,” I add quickly, since his glance drags at something protective in me. “This part is for you.”

Nathan’s mouth tightens slightly, then relaxes, and he keeps both hands on the table like he’s refusing to intimidate me with movement. He doesn’t interrupt, and I take that as permission to keep going.

“The night I got that message, I told myself I’d go to the police in the morning,” I say, and my fingers curl around the dish towel. “I even took screenshots like I was building a case file.”

Nathan’s gaze stays on mine, attentive and steady.

“Then my mother called,” I continue, and the bitterness slides in without my permission. “Someone vandalized her house, and there was a note. It named me.”

Nathan’s eyes narrow slightly, and his voice stays calm. “What did it say?”

“That I’d be next,” I reply, my voice shaking slightly. “It was written like a person who wanted to prove they could reach me anywhere, even through someone else’s front door.”

Nathan’s fingers flex once on the tabletop then settle again.

“That’s why you left,” he says.

“That’s why I panicked,” I correct, sharper than I intend. “Leaving came later. First I tried to hold normal, and I tried to keep you out of it.”

Nathan’s brow lifts slightly, then he nods once like he understands the logic even if he hates the result.

“I still went to work,” I say, and my voice stays even with effort. “I thought I could get it on record, I thought I could tell someone official without turning it into your problem.”

Nathan’s expression tightens. “You were protecting me.”

I laugh once, short and dry. “I was protecting myself. You made it clear the night before that a baby and a timeline sounded like a trap, and I wasn’t walking into that with a threat on my phone and fear on my face.”

Nathan’s eyes hold mine. “I was wrong.”

“I know.” My voice goes flatter. “HR summoned me the moment I arrived.”

Nathan’s posture goes still in a way that makes my skin prickle. “Meredith,” I say, since I can see him already putting names together.

He doesn’t speak, and I keep going.

“She had a photo,” I say. “Dinner. Your hand on my thigh. My face turned toward you like I trusted the moment.”

Nathan’s gaze sharpens, and something cold slides into his eyes.

“She acted like she was doing me a favor,” I continue. “She called it professionalism, optics, she was protecting Hawthorne, name it what you will. And she said it with a smile that didn’t belong on a human face.”

Nathan’s voice turns menacing. “What did she do?”

“She cornered me.” My fingers tighten around the towel. “She told me she knew about us, she told me she could make sure I never worked in that hospital again, and she told me it wouldn’t stop at Hawthorne if I tried to fight.”

Nathan’s hand closes around his mug, then he sets it down carefully. “She threatened your career.”

“She threatened everything,” I reply. “She had a complaint template already filled in, she had language ready about coercion and abuse of authority and conflict of interest, and she didn’t care whether it was true. She cared that it would stick.”

Nathan’s eyes darken. “She wanted to file against you.”

“She wanted me gone.” My voice cracks slightly. “She said you’d survive, she said men like you always do, and she said I wouldn’t.”

Nathan’s anger reads in stillness, in the way his eyes stop softening. “She offered to process it as an emergency,” I add. “Immediate safety concerns.”