Page 78 of Playing With Love

“Yeah, you told me that. But, Lizzy, why?”

That was a good question. It was also one I didn’t have an answer for. When I remained silent he changed tactics.

“I’m gonna preface this by saying, in no way am I excusing his behavior…”

In no way am I excusing his behavior.

Excusing his behavior.

You know when your dad comes home from work he’s tired, Liza. Now’s not the time to pester him about a karate tournament.

Excuse.

Always an excuse.

“Lizzy?” Tucker jerked my hand. “Where’d you go, baby?”

“When I was little I learned to apologize,” I blurted out. “If I asked a question he didn’t have time to answer, I said I was sorry. If I bothered him when he got home from work and annoyed him, I said I was sorry. If he showed up at one of my games and we lost, I apologized for wasting his time. If he didn’t like my tone, I said I was sorry. If I argued, I apologized. It’s easier to just say sorry than to listen to him explain all the ways I’m failing to be considerate, or how I wasn’t a good athlete, or how ungrateful I am for all he’s given me and how I don’t respect his time. It’s become a habit.”

If my hand wasn’t on his leg I might’ve missed the angry vibration rolling through him. Though when he ground out, “I’m sorry, what?” Through gritted teeth I didn’t miss the ferocity of his tone.

“He’s not a man who likes his time wasted.”

“A child asking their father a question isn’t a waste of time. A father watching their daughter play sports isn’t a waste of fucking time. And for Christ’s sake, a daughter wanting her father’s time and attention isn’t inconsiderate. That’s not even the bare fucking minimum a man is supposed to give his children. Jesus fuck, Liza, my father’s a total cheating piece of shit yet he still managed to make my football games. He’s a shit husband, a weak man, and a shit father who forced his son to live in a dysfunctional home because he couldn’t be bothered to honor his vow, but he damn well made time for me.”

If that was meant to make me feel better it didn’t. All it did was remind me how unworthy I was.

“Maybe because you’re worth it and I’m not,” I spat.

“There it is,” he whispered.

Yes.

There it was.

The confirmation, it was me. Tucker’s dad was a horrible person yet Tucker wasn’t, he was worthy of the love his father didn’t give his mother. My situation was reversed. My dad had all the time in the world for my mother, but none for me. He had time to take her out to dinner and get dressed up with her for work functions, but he couldn’t be bothered to show up at my basic training graduation, and for the record, that meant my mother wasn’t free to come either. They’d been busy living their lives childless since the day I’d moved out of the house.

“I got it wrong,” Tucker continued. “All the years I’ve known you, you never said much about your parents. So I didn’t know. I thought it was your dickhead ex cheating on you who made you afraid of love. I thought maybe it was the Franks and Gregs you worked with who made you feel less than or gave you a hard time and that dug in and festered until you felt unworthy. But it isn’t that. You’re too strong to let some asshole with a shit opinion get under your skin. It’s him. He’s the reason you recoiled when I told you I loved you. He’s the reason you don’t know how strong, beautiful, intelligent, and respected you are. And he’s the motherfucking reason you can’t give yourself to me.”

I felt a wave of heat rolling over me.

“He means well⁠—”

“Oh, no, you don’t. Don’t do that,” Tucker spoke over me. “Don’t try and feed me that line of shit. Right off the bat, he dismissed you and your responsibilities. He didn’t ask you to come home, he demanded your time like it was his to have. If that wasn’t enough, he got in a dig about you wasting his time, which in reality, the man was wasting yours by not listening when you told him you were at work. But he’s the type of asshole who thinks he’s the most important person in a room. I’m not even going to address the ‘time to earn your keep’ comment while I’m driving, and we’re skipping him calling you young lady like you’re a petulant teenager he’s scolding for stealing the family car, going on a weeklong joyride across the country while knocking over liquor stores. We’ll save those two when I can fully concentrate on all the ways that shit’s so fucked up, I can’t begin to explain how fucked up.”

It sucked that Tucker could be funny when all I wanted to do was crawl into the back seat and hide.

“You’re right, Tucker, he thinks his time is more important than anyone else. That’s just who he is.”

“Baby, that’s just fucked.”

“I’m not disagreeing. It’s just the way it is.”

“And, that’s more fucked.”

Tucker brought our hands back up to his mouth and blew out a breath before he pressed a hard kiss against the back of my hand.

“I need to think,” he quietly announced with none of the anger that was present moments before.