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The last he could do.
That was being polite, not controlling.
But he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t spending too much fucking time trying to wind his way through the maze of social situations and how he used to act and react and how heshouldreact based on the confrontation with Teresa, that conversation with his mom, and Mel’s fury at the Gold game. Even how Bianca was acting and what it made him feel was factoring in.
So…Jeremy was in the unenviable position of being a grown-ass man who’d spent the last decades thinking he knew exactly who the fuck he was and who he should be…
And now was reevaluating everything.
And trying to prove to the women in his life that he had taken note, was reevaluating, wasn’t—
A controlling asshole.
So, there was that.
But hecouldopen the door when someone’s hands were full.
Polite. Thoughtful. Not a pushy alpha-hole.
Of course, in the time it took for him to process that, Teresa had already made it up the walk and to the front door. He snagged the handle, pulling it open.
Her eyes went wide, and when his gaze dropped, he didn’t miss the fact that her fingers coiled around the bag handles, as though expecting him to snatch them from her hands.
And, yeah, maybe he was a pushy alpha-hole.
Because a couple of weeks ago, he would have taken the bags, wouldn’t have heard any of her arguments. Just would have taken them right from her grip and carried them through the house.
Making her bend to his will in the name of politeness, in the name of him caring for the people in his life, his family.
Yeah, that realization didn’t feel good.
None of these new understandings over the last couple of weeks had felt good.
“Um…”
He blinked, realized he’d opened the door but hadn’t stepped back to let her in the house. “Sorry,” he muttered, moving his ass out of the way.
“All good,” she said, brushing by him, the bags rustling as she moved.
“Need some help?” he couldn’t help but offer.
“I’m fine,” she said immediately. Automatically.
“Yeah,” he whispered, turning from her, closing the door with a decisivesnick. “Everyone’s in the kitchen,” he added, flicking the lock.
She started heading that way then paused, glanced over her shoulder, staring up at him, studying his face. As though searching for some answer that she wouldn’t get. Or maybe for an answer she already had, considering the way her brows pulled together, her head tilted to the side.
“Are you feeling okay?”
His entire foundation had been crumbling over the last couple of weeks, shifting everything he’d thought he should be, how he should act. He’d been helping, just being a “good guy.” But he’d nearly pushed his sister away, annoyed the shit out of his ever-patient motherandMel.
Show her you can learn, that you can see and understand her perspective, that you’re not always a giant pushy pain in the ass, but a good guy. Show her that you can change, and she’ll see it.
Mel.
Smart, thoughtful words.
“Yeah,” he said, and normally he would have brushed it off, coaxed the bags from her. But instead, he decided to tell the truth. “What you said to me…”
