As much as I want to rip his arms off his body and use them to beat the rest of him to death, I can’t because at least in part, he’s right. His voice is pained, full of worry and fear. He’s trying to protect his daughter—he’s afraid of losing her like he lost his wife. But he’s out of line speaking to her like this. He needs to dial it back.
“He does whatever the hell he wants, Ellie. He doesn’t give a shit about you, and he’ll drop you when the next pretty girl comes along.”
That one stings. Because that’s one hundred percent untrue. I’m falling for her. It’s fast and it’s wild, like everything else in my life, and ironically the exact opposite of damn near everything she is, but it’s true. I’m developing feelings for her and that’s never happened to me before. It’s new, it’s scary, but it’s real.
He’s poking at her insecurities now, and my fist balls at my side. He knows she’s self-conscious about her face, her trauma, he can’t not know, and he’s using that against her. Even if he didn’t know, using another “pretty” woman against someone doesn’t fly with me.
Society has conditioned women to believe they’re not as attractive as the next woman, and that’s a deep-rooted belief Eloise holds with her scarred face. I also know that it’s utter bullshit. She’s as beautiful as any other woman on the planet, with or without her fucking scars.
Flames of anger flare in my chest.
“Who’s going to be here to pick up the pieces when he breaks your heart, Eloise? I’m on the road. I can’t afford to take time off to comfort you because you were stupid enough to fall in with the wrong boy.”
He falls silent long enough to catch a breath. Does he ever stop long enough for her to argue back? Or does he rant at her until he clears his cache of thoughts and moves on?
“I thought you knew better. I thought we raised you better. What would your mother think if she saw you right now? Talk of going to strip clubs, having boys over to the house while I’m not supposed to be here, parties… She’d be disgusted.”
My heart pinches, the flames fan higher, the fire burns hotter. Playing the dead mom card is so far from fucking cool.
My girl is crying behind that door right now, and I’m fighting every urge to barge in and rescue her. She’d be embarrassed that I heard, she’d apologize on behalf of her dad for the things he said about me, and she might even be mad at me for interfering.
“I can’t even look at you right now.”
A few seconds later, a door slams somewhere inside the house. The light goes out behind the door and so does the one in the living room. I drop the box of cocoa on the step and hurry over to my car. Grabbing a coat from the back, I put it on then settle into the driver’s seat.
I don’t want to leave right away in case she comes outside or needs me close, but I also don’t want to sit at the curb with the car running, and heat on, so the neighbors don't call the cops.
I need to message her, but by the time I dig my phone out of my jeans pocket with cold hands, there’s already a message from her on my screen.
Tesoro: I need to talk to you. Can you let me know when you’re home, please?
My stomach clenches. I’m not going to let her end this fledgling relationship because her dad’s being anidiota.
I waste no time calling, twice, but she doesn’t answer. My bet is she’s crying and doesn’t want me to hear her tears.
Ares:Cariño, please pick up. I left something for you on your porch. I had it in the car and when I went to bring it back to you… I didn’t want to interrupt.
The porch light flicks back on and she crouches to pick it up. I stay where I am in the car but her phone lights up her face as she texts me back.
Tesoro: You’re still here.
Ares: I didn’t want to leave in case you needed me for something.
She swipes at her cheeks. If I didn’t think her dad would lose his shit at her even worse than he just did, I’d cross the street, hold her, and not let go.
Ares: It’s taking everything I’ve got not to get out of this car and wrap you in my arms.
Tesoro: I’m torn on how to answer that. I don’t want to make it worse, but I’d love nothing more.
That sparks something inside me. My urge to comfort her met by her desire to be comforted gives me some security I didn’t realize I needed. It’s nice to know that at least in this instance, when she’s upset, she’d like for me to be there with her, for her.
Tesoro: Please don’t think he’s awful.
Ares: I think he loves you. He wants what’s best for you. He’s afraid. He said some really out of line shit, but I don’t think he’s awful.
She reaches behind the door and pulls some boots on her feet and a coat before sitting on the porch step.
Ares: You should go inside. It’s cold out.
