by Linda Kage
“Need anything to drink?” she asked. “Water? Cold milk?”
He shook his head, muttering, “I’m fine,” in a dismissive manner.
He appeared more aged than he did old, as if life had weathered him prematurely. His hair was still black with only slight streaks of silver at the temples, but the saggy way he wore his clothes and hadn’t shaved along with the deep hollows under his eyes said he’d given up. The world had beaten him down.
And Gabby was apparently the one paying the price for his capitulation.
Fisting my hands down at my sides, I breathed in deeply through my nose, trying to control this odd feeling that was swelling in my chest.
It was anger, I realized. But not for myself. It was a righteous, selfless rage I felt on another person’s behalf.
How peculiar.
Papá must’ve heard my indrawn breath because suddenly his gaze was no longer glued to the television. It was turning toward me.
“Who are you?” he demanded, straining past Gabby to see me, his eyebrows furrowing with displeasure.
Hell yes, I thought with relish. Game on.
Chapter 15
Hayden
With a gasp, Gabby whirled around to scowl. “I thought I told you to stay outside.”
“I ignored you, obviously.” Stepping into the room so I could move to the side and make eye contact with her father again, since she’d successfully blocked him from view when she’d spun to face me, I told the man, “My name is Hayden. And you are…?”
“Oscar. What’re you doing in my home?”
“Your home?” Lifting my eyebrows, I let out a degrading snort. “And what have you done to make it in any way yours?”
“Excuse me?” Gabby growled, marching toward me, her eyes flashing with rage. “What the hell is your problem? This man is my father. Have some damn respect.”
I sent her an amused glance. “But he hasn’t earned my respect. From what I’ve seen, he has you hand deliver his meals to him every night so he can sit in his room on his lazy ass, watching television, while he lets you sleep out on the couch. And take care of your brother by yourself. Or maybe you think I should respect the way he’s let you be the only source of income in this residence, because you are, aren’t you? Everything in this family sits on your shoulders.”
Her face went bright red. I wasn’t sure if that was because my rundown of her situation was so accurate it embarrassed her or because I’d upset her beyond redemption for the way I’d just spoken of her dad.
Probably a bit of both.
“Maybe you didn’t notice,” she hissed, poking me in the chest with her finger and trying to nudge me backward out of the room. “But he’s missing the bottom half of one of his legs.”
“Oh, I noticed,” I said, glancing at her father. “I also noticed the prosthetic he’s wearing, which is supposed to aid one with walking after they lose a limb, or am I not correct in that assumption?”
“It’s barely been a year,” she bit out incredulously. “Learning how to walk with a prosthetic takes time.”
“Yes, and I’m sure it’s going to take him a hell of a lot longer since he refuses to practice by even walking to the kitchen for dinner.”
“Step off, Carmichael. You’re trespassing into an issue where you don’t belong. Besides, you have no room to talk to me about family.”
“I don’t care,” I argued, fueled on by my indignation. After learning of her atrocious living conditions, I wanted to annihilate the source. I hated her situation, and even more, I hated how protective and angry it all made me, like I actually cared and wanted to help.
And nothing made me crosser than experiencing fucking feelings!
Narrowing my gaze on the old man because this was all his fault, I boomed, “He pisses me off.”
“What!?” Gabby cried in outrage. “You haven’t even known him five seconds. How dare you come into my home and judge my—”
“Yes, I damn well will judge him,” I shot back, “without even knowing him a second. Because I can see what he’s doing to you.”
“Me?” she sputtered, shaking her head. “He’s not—”
“I was there on Saturday, remember.”
Her eyes widened with outrage and anger, warning me to shut up.
I kept talking.
“I saw what lengths you were willing to descend to, the risks you were willing to take to help your brother as if you were the only guardian he had. All this time, I had no idea you had a father at home who should’ve been taking on those burdens. Or at least some of them.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think I have a clue,” I shot back. “More than you realize. It didn’t take me long after watching you bustle around that café today to realize you’re overworked, overstressed, and overtired. You’re bearing more responsibility than any single person should reasonably carry on their own. It blows my mind to realize you’ve had another adult at home who could be doing something to help out, like maybe even minimal cooking or cleaning, but instead he’s just lying there, feeling sorry for himself, and expecting you to wait on him hand and foot.” I pointed a finger toward her scowling father. “I’m sure getting a leg amputated was a traumatic experience. I’m sure it hurts like hell and will take you a massive amount of effort to get back into the swing of things again, but the fact that you’re not even willing to try to overcome your obstacles for your children irritates the fuck out of me. Gabriella doesn’t deserve to take on all the responsibility you’ve abandoned just because—”
When Gabby tried to cover my mouth with her hand, muttering, “Oh my God, shut up!” I blocked her arm.
“No, I will not shut up. I refuse to just stand here and let him use you like you’re—”
“Okay, that’s it,” she yelled, pushing at me until I actually stumbled a step back. “Get out, get out, get out. You are no longer welcome in my home. So leave. Now.”
I shook my head. “What? Do you actually want to keep living like this? Providing for your family all alone? Killing yourself with all the—”
“I want you to shut up,” she roared, her eyes filling with tears as she pointed toward her father. “He is my family. And I love him. So I will continue to do and be whatever I must in order to keep him and Miguel safe and under one roof. You got that?”
“No,” I said honestly. I couldn’t get that at all. Because it wasn’t what I wanted for her. For some reason, I could only handle thinking about her living a life that was full of far less struggles. And I wasn’t going to be satisfied until I got it. “How could I ever comprehend a need for your misery?”
“Well, I don’t care what you comprehend, then,” she muttered, seemingly confused by my answer. “Just leave.”
“No,” Oscar said, lifting a staying hand.
Gabby spun toward him, shocked. “Papá,” she started as if to soothe him.
But he shook his head, repeating, “No. The boy is right. What I’ve been doing to you is wrong.” His old eyes looked sad and defeated when he took her in. “I didn’t even think. I’ve been so self-absorbed in my own misery. You and Miguel—you’ve had to struggle without me. Lo siento. Forgive me, mija?”
“No.” She shook her head, whispering, “Papá, you have nothing to apologize for.”
But he cut in, shaking his head. “Yes. I do. And—and—” He bowed his head before picking up his tray and setting it aside. “I’ll do better. Starting now.”
When he winced and shifted his legs to ease them over the side of the bed as if to stand, Gabby surged forward. “What’re you doing?”
He sent her an irritated scowl. “I’m going to eat in the kitchen, like I should.”
“But, Papá—”
“Do you want me to remain an invalid forever?”
“I…” She looked regretful when she shook her head. “No. But I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for, either.”
He nodded. “I’m ready. Now carry my t
ray for me, if you could.”
“Of course.”
She nodded eagerly, but I stepped forward, murmuring, “I’ll get the tray.”
Gabby whirled toward me, her glare icy and unforgiving. “I told you to fucking leave.”
“And it was simply adorable when you said it, too.” Brushing her aside, I picked up the tray. “Now help your papá walk to the kitchen, will you? He’s only got one leg.”
She called me an impressively vile name as I swept from the room, carrying her father’s dinner tray with me.
Miguel was just finishing his meal when I entered. He looked up, saw the plate still piled with spaghetti, and popped to his feet, his face full of concern.
“What’s wrong? Why didn’t Papá eat? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” I said, setting out his meal on the table across from the kid. “He’s just going to eat in here with you tonight?”
“He is?” Watching me curiously, Miguel shook his head. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Why not?”
Oscar and Gabby entered before Miguel could question me further, so the boy skipped toward them, clearly excited to see his father. “Hi, Papá. You’re eating in here tonight? You must be feeling better. You’re walking really good. And look, Gabby made spaghetti!”
While Oscar nodded at him distractedly, concentrating on each step he took, Gabby hushed and waved her brother to the side so they could have a clear path to the table. Once they reached Oscar’s seat, he patted her arm before letting go of it and easing down.
Tears glistened from her lashes as she smiled and watched him pick up his fork. Miguel bounded back to his seat, talking a million miles per minute as if he had a year of news to catch his father up with and only a few minutes to tell him everything.
“…And then Dawson puked all over Hailey’s shoes.” Pausing, he glanced toward his sister and frowned as if irritated by her presence. “I thought you were going out.”
“Oh!” She jumped as if remembering, only to pause and narrow her eyes when she saw me in the entrance of the kitchen, still here. “I need to change,” she muttered, rudely brushing past me and storming from the room.
As she left, I glanced at her father and brother.
“Have fun.” Miguel waved happily, clearly oblivious to his sister’s feelings toward me at the moment.
I smiled vaguely at him and turned my attention to his father. Oscar glanced up and sent me a hard look, his eyes glittering with resentment, but then he offered me a reluctant yet respectful nod.
I sent him one back.
For trying.
Then I left the kitchen to wait for Gabby in the front room. My fingers wandered over her pillow as I walked toward the window to look out onto a side street. As I shifted the curtain aside, a familiar figure passed directly by the window on the sidewalk.
“Hmm,” I murmured, watching Ezra Nash’s back as he walked away, his head down and posture defeated.
Kaitlynn was the only feasible reason he’d be loitering outside this building. They must be moving along quickly if he was already aware of where she lived.
I’m not sure if I liked that. A relationship between those two was a bit too dangerous for my taste. And what was worse, he didn’t look pleased.
Did that mean my stepsister was similarly upset?
It would seriously suck if I had to break my own boss’s legs for hurting Kaitlynn.
Behind me, Gabby entered the living room. I turned to face her, only to have the air sucked from my lungs. But God damn. She’d changed into tight, light pants with a loose black top that swirled around her curves in the most fetching fashion. It looked absolutely tantalizing on her.
My mouth went dry and my skin went tight. It’d been a long time since I’d craved a woman as much as I craved this one.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” she snarled, her expression hard and unyielding; she obviously didn’t feel the same attraction I did. “I’m only going with you tonight to save my job. Got it?”
“Of course.” I casually slipped my hand into a pocket when I followed her from the apartment.
“It’s certainly not because I like you,” she went on, locking the door behind her. “Because I don’t. I pretty much loathe you right now. And I’m mad as hell about what you did.”
“Oh, I could tell,” I answered, following behind as she stalked down the hall. “It almost completely masks how grateful you actually are.”
“Excuse me, what?” After jarring herself to a halt, she whirled around to glare at me. “I’m not grateful, you dickhead. You said some terrible, awful things to and about my father. I’d love nothing more than to claw your face off right about now.”
“You sure about that?” I murmured, lowering my voice and leaning in. “Or are you secretly relieved that I stepped in and helped you out, saying the hard truths he obviously needed to hear in order to snap him back into shape?”
“Fuck you,” she snarled, her eyes flashing with rage. “The only thing that will relieve me is when I never have to see you or your psychotic mother ever again. And you know what?” She started to turn away, only to whirl back and point at me. “He didn’t need to hear shit from you. We were doing just fine without you butting in the way you did, thank you very much.”
“Really?” I lifted my eyebrows mockingly. “But it would’ve broken you if you’d had to say any of that to him. And it was getting to that point. You know it was.”
“You bastard.” She swung her palm toward my face. “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t know.”
I caught her wrist before she could make contact and flashed my snarkiest smile. “The truth stings, doesn’t it, little bird?” Leaning close, I mocked, “That’s okay. I can keep your relief a secret too.”
Growling when she couldn’t pull her wrist free from my grip, she bared her teeth at me. “God! I hate you.”
I laughed. “You think that’s going to put a dent in my feelings? Darling, my own mother hates me.”
“Then I’ll put a dent in your fucking head.” She swung her other hand.
I caught that wrist too, to her eternal displeasure. She struggled and hissed, cursed and flailed, demanding, “Let me go.”
“Not until you calm down and stop trying to hurt me.” I backed her against the wall and pinned her there because she was getting hard to keep contained.
Panting, she flung her hair out of her eyes and glared hard. “Let. Me. Go.”
My lips parted with a strange realization as I took in the agonized features on her face. She really was mad at me. Genuinely, gut-wrenchingly upset.
Except I didn’t want her to be mad at me. Not truly, unforgivably angry, anyway.
As that fact sliced through my chest, I leaned in until my nose was almost touching hers and frowned right back. “Let. Me. Apologize.”
She blinked in surprise. Then frowned out her confusion. “What? Really?” She glanced up and down the hall before squinting suspiciously. “Is this some kind of trick?”
I shook my head. “No trick. I was out of line.”
Too busy trying to figure me out, she didn’t seem to notice when I released my hold on one of her wrists in order to lift my hand and softly slide the back of my fingers down her cheek. She flinched in surprise, and that almost slayed me. I didn’t want her to recoil from me, not for any reason.
“I’m sorry I upset you and was so brutal with your father. Sometimes my asshole side comes out without my permission, which I know is in no way a valid excuse, but I thought you’d like to know I do regret the way I went about it.”
“I…” Looking stumped, she cleared her throat, then shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts too. Then she slowly, uncertainly said, “Okay. But what about what you said just now with all the hard truths and secretly relieved bullshit?”
I shrugged. “That wasn’t bullshit. I still believe what I said and think he needed to be jostled back to reality. But that doesn’t mean I don’t regret hurting you in the proces
s.”
Letting go of her completely, I took a significant step back, giving her all the space she needed.
“It’s strange,” I said more to myself than to her. I shook my head, confused. “But being around you affects me. I find myself doing the oddest things I’ve never done before.”
“Like pinning me to a wall?” she guessed with a judgmental, arched eyebrow. “Or insulting my father?”
I smiled. “Oh, no. Insulting someone is totally within my wheelhouse. It’s the feeling regretful part I’m not used to.”
She snorted.
The sound was so her that it rippled through me with a craving I had trouble containing. I stepped in toward her, giving her all the time to reject me if she so wished.
Her breathing went choppy, and she eyed me warily, but she didn’t push me away. “What’re you doing?” she asked instead.
Shaking my head, I admitted, “Not entirely sure. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on here, I guess.”
She pulled her head back a fraction of an inch and narrowed her eyes. “You’re acting weird. That’s what’s going on.”
I huffed out a breath of amusement and pressed my forehead to hers before lightly gripping the side of her bicep. Gabby went entirely still, not resisting but not melting into me either. I think she was as confused as I was about the shit that was stirring between us.
When her eyes slid closed and face tilted up as if she wanted me to kiss her, I leaned in to oblige, but she suddenly pulled away, mumbling something incoherent under her breath and shaking her head no.
Cheeks flushed, she blew out a breath and glanced up to warily meet my gaze.
“We should go. To your mother’s.” She cleared her throat. “To Lana’s.”
I nodded, reminding her, “But only because you want to keep your job and not because you like me, right?”
She blinked and didn’t seem as certain as she’d sounded two minutes before when she hesitantly murmured, “R-right.” Clearing her throat yet again, she turned and started down the hall, her strides determined and fast.