Page 62 of Catcher

I laugh sharply, more brittle than amused. “You think you can just come in here and interrogate me?”

“I think…” he says, voice low, “… that something is seriously wrong, and you’re bleeding from a dozen places you keep pretending don’t exist.”

My heart slams against my ribs. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sneer, ignoring how right he is.

He reaches for the stack of bills and holds each one up to my face. “Visa, American Express, Mastercard, store cards… several different collection agencies.”

My hands curl into fists. “Put those down.”

“No,” he growls.

I step closer, refusing to back down. “You don’t get to tell me no in my own house.”

Catcher doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. “You don’t get to lie to my face.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You’re hiding too,” he shoots back.

I open my mouth, then close it. My heartbeat is loud in my ears. Every instinct is screaming at me to shut this down, push him out, and protect what little control I still have.

Catcher doesn’t back off. “Talk to me,” he says, softer but no less firm. “Because I’m not walking away from this.”

I shake my head. “You already crossed a line.”

“I’ll cross ten more if it keeps you safe.”

His confession causes my breath to catch. “That’s not your decision to make!”

“It is if you won’t,” he snaps.

The air between us feels thick. “You think I don’t know how bad it is?”

His eyes narrow. “Then explain it.”

I say nothing.

“How bad?” he continues to push.

I blow out a breath and look away. “Bad enough that I don’t open my mail some days.”

Silence stretches.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” he asks.

I laugh quietly, bitter. “Because it’s my problem. I was handling it.”

“Not very well,” he says sharply.

“Obviously,” I snap, feeling defensive. “Again, not your concern. So, if we are finished here, I’d like to get ready to go to my parents’ house.”

Catcher turns away, dragging a hand over his face. His shoulders are tight, coiled. When he looks back at me, there’s fire in his eyes. “He stole from you.”

“He’s sick,” I say automatically.

“He committed fraud,” Catcher snaps. “Identity theft. He buried you in debt and put you at risk.”

“He didn’t mean⁠—”