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“I can’t imagine. Just the thought of losing Livvy…” James paused to clear the emotion from his voice. “You went through something incredibly traumatic, Dean. Not being ready to move on just yet doesn’t make you an asshole.”
“Thanks.”
“But dangling it in front of someone, especially someone as, ah,tenderas MaryAnn and then yanking it back the second she fully embraces that role does make you one. A pretty big one, in fact.”
“I know. I never should have called myself her Daddy and this wouldn’t have happened.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
Wincing as ice once again coated James’s voice, Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “I was just so in the zone, you know? Like riding a bike. But thenshesaid it and it just… I don’t know. Snapped me out of it, I guess? And I was kind of a dick to her after that, which she didn’t deserve.”
“Sounds like you owe a certain Little girl a big apology.”
“I do. I just don’t know where we go from here. I want to be her Daddy, but I don’t know if I can be.”
“Then tell her that. Tell her about Annie. You can’t expect her to give you the kind of trust a relationship like this requires if you aren’t going to be honest with her.”
“Does it drive Olivia mad that you’re always right about everything?”
“It does. But if it helps, I get it wrong, too. We went through a rough patch for a few months, right before that whole mess with you know who. I almost lost her because I thought I knew what she wanted, and I acted on it without talking to her.”
“That does help, actually. Thanks, James.” Feeling, well, if not more settled then at least more certain of his next steps, Dean switched topics. “Do you know if Bryant has heard anything from the prison yet? My usual contacts are coming up empty.”
“Unfortunately, no. They’re being frustratingly tight-lipped about this whole mess.”
“Sounds like they’re covering their asses as much as they can. I’ll push a little harder, see if I can’t dig up some answers that might tell us where Nathaniel Cooke is holed up.”
“I hate to be the one to say it, but… there is someone who might be able to help with that.”
It took a moment for James’s meaning to sink in, and when it did, Dean just barely kept himself from snarling into the phone. “Absolutely not. If she knew something, she would have told us already.”
“If she knew that she knew something, yes. But you know just as well as anyone that witnesses often know more than they realize.”
“Again, it’s really fucking annoying when you’re right.” Especially when it meant Dean would have to crack open a woman who had already been through more than any one person deserved in a lifetime. “I’ll see what I can do. But it will have to wait until tomorrow.”
“Fair enough. Talk to you then.”
“Fuck,” Dean muttered aloud to his empty office when the call ended.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow was soon enough to poke at her wounds. For tonight, he had his own to rip open, if he had any hope of fixing the mess he’d made.
CHAPTER13
At some point, she’d cried herself to sleep. When she woke again, the sun had disappeared from the sky, and the little clock on the nightstand told her it was almost seven.
Which meant Dean would expect her downstairs for dinner soon. Just the thought had her stomach rolling with anxiety. Maybe he’d let her eat in her room. Given how he’d been acting toward the end of her punishment, he’d probably prefer it that way.
Just the thought was enough to bring on a fresh wave of tears, but she stubbornly willed them back. She’d already shed enough of those over the asshole men in her life and she’d be damned if she was giving them even one more drop.
Forcing herself out of bed, she made her way to the bathroom to wash up. Even if she wasn’t going to sit and eat with him, she refused to let him witness the damage he’d left in his wake. She even threw on some light makeup to mask the puffiness under her eyes, and to give her confidence a little boost.
But even that small boost faded when she returned to her bedroom and found him standing in the middle of the room, an odd little half-smile on his face.
“Hi.”
Years of being told to be polite, to not talk back, to sit down and shut up, were urging her to bite her tongue. But god, she was so fucking tired of being a doormat. “What the hell do you want?”
He winced as if she’d physically struck him. “I deserve that.”
