Page 38 of Curves, He Wrote

“I guess it is a little odd, me being here like this. But maybe we could all go to dinner after I finish up at the convention, talk it over?” Nathan suggests thoughtfully.

I gulp loudly, feeling myself growing faint.

Giddy.

“Talk what over, exactly?” my dad asks, taking a step towards Nathan.

Nathan chuckles to himself, shaking his head a little, overlooking my anxiety for now.

“Well, I guess Lucy hasn’t had a chance to tell you,” he continues, a matter of fact, making my heart feel like it’s about to explode in my chest for all the wrong reasons.

My dad’s eyes narrow on Nathan and then dart to mine for a moment.

“She’s been helping me with my next book. As well as with the convention,” Nathan tells us both, cocking a brow in my direction. Letting me know he has this in the bag.

“Helping you with your next book,” my dad parrots, his jaw opening and his voice dropping to a monotone of disbelief.

I feel my head nodding and Nathan looks like he has it all stitched up, his story sounds as good as anything else he could come up with. On paper or in real life.

But my dad isn’t buying it.

Like I’ve said, my dad’s… unique. He’s not one to fall for a story. It’s part of his job as an auditor, I guess.

He got to the bottom of all the Marie business and I just know he’ll do the same here with us.

It’s just what he does.

“Alright. Honey? What’s really going on here?” he asks me point-blank in his strongest dad voice.

I hear myself groan and Nathan shifts on his feet a little but looks determined to act like everything’s fine.

Which it is.

Was.

Before my dad showed up.

Nathan’s look shifts to me, and I can just tell he wants to come clean.

No intention of playing games a second longer than he has to.

“Daddy, what are you talking about?” I manage to get out, feeling my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.

“She’s helped me more than you could possibly know,” Nathan adds, beaming.

Letting it all go to shit when his eyes move from mine down to my chest and then even lower as he makes a low sound to himself.

The picture of a man who has what he wants and isn’t interested in sharing it with anyone anymore.

Fuck.

I mean, I love you Nathan, but seriously?

“We’re leaving,” my dad announces sternly.

Looking at me like I’ve just killed someone. Like all this is my fault.

He moves to go, opening the bedroom door wider and motioning with his eyes for me to go first, but Nathan’s not so keen.

And neither am I.

“Lucy. I said we’re leaving. We can talk about this in the car on the way home,” he adds with finality, making me sound like I’m nine, not nineteen.

“I’m not going anywhere dad,” I tell him, surprising everyone including myself with how serious I sound, but Nathan gives me a comforting look.

Dad only repeats himself.

“We’re leaving, Lucy. Now,” he growls.

Nathan growls louder, moving over towards me.

My dad grabs a hold of my wrist and tries to pull me with him, but Nathan has him by the arm in a single movement.

“I think Lucy’s staying here with me,” he says firmly, gripping my dad’s arm until he winces in pain and let’s go.

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but it ends now,” my dad tells us both.

“Dad, no!” I almost shout, putting myself in between him and Nathan.

“I didn’t think you’d just turn up like this. I’m not a child anymore. I can do whatever I want,” I hear myself try to tell him. But the more I speak, the more helpless I feel and I sound.

Until I feel Nathan’s hand in mine, gently pressing his huge fingers over my hand.

“Like I said, Paul,” Nathan announces. “Lucy’s been helping me out and I think she’s staying right here.”

“You think I’m stupid, is that it?” my dad spits at Nathan, pushing past me and lurching towards him, his hand’s fists now.

“You think I can’t see what’s been going on here?” he gasps, and I feel Nathan’s hand tug me to one side as my dad takes a swing at him, connecting a right hook to his chin but only making my dad cry out in pain.

“Ah Jesus, my hand!” he shrieks. “You broke my hand!” he cries out again, crumbling as he nurses his hand against his chest.

Nathan sniffs, murmuring something about ‘letting him have that one’ but his focus is on me in a second.

“Are you alright?” he asks me, pulling me closer to him, towering over my dad, but I can’t help it.

He’s my dad and he’s hurt now. I need to help him.

“Oh, what have you done?” I ask Nathan, feeling like it’s all his fault somehow, but knowing I only have myself to blame.

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