Page 201 of ClickBack

“And you had twenty years to learn how to talk to her.”

He comes back toward me. I leave my hands at my sides.

“You heard her. She makes it hard. You think you’re special because she’s letting you close now. Give it a season.”

“You’re done.”

“You’ll get tired. Same as I did.”

I catch the front of his shirt before I have finished deciding not to. He grabs my wrist as I drive him back from the door. His leg hits the metal chair by the railing, and it goes over hard enough to bring me fully into what I’m doing.

I am holding Rae’s father against her mother’s porch rail.

I let go.

Byron pulls his shirt straight. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

“They’re off.”

I take a step back. My hand wants to close again. I keep it open.

“You fucked up,” I tell him. “You don’t get to keep coming here to convince her she earned it.”

He looks toward the door, then at me.

“And when you’re in Texas?”

“She still knows how to tell you no.”

He stares at me. I step away from his path to the stairs.

“Go home, Byron.”

He goes. I wait until he gets into the car, then set the chair upright. One rubber foot has slipped. I push it back into place and test the chair before I open the door.

Giselle is standing in the foyer.

“What happened?”

“I grabbed his shirt. Pushed him back. He hit the chair.”

She looks at my hands. I let her take one. She checks the knuckles, then the red marks around my wrist.

“Did you hit him?”

“No.”

“Did he hit you?”

“He grabbed my wrist after I put my hands on him.”

She turns my wrist over, then releases it. “I heard what he said.”

I look toward the closed door. “He was leaving until he decided he had one more thing to get off.”

“And it had to be my fault.” Her voice hardens. “He couldn’t even walk to the car without making it my fault.”

“He’s gone.”