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“You said you’ve wanted to learn how to do things,” he argued.
“I have. And I appreciate it. But it’s like you still find a way to get things done when I tell you no.”
“What’s this about?” he asked. “I’m used to doing things.”
“I get that,” she said. “But when I’m off of work we don’t always have to do things in the house. I don’t have you here to be my workman. I already worry people think that as it is. I’ve heard the jokes about this being the house that got away from you too.”
She’d brushed it off when she heard it weeks ago and then again last night. But it was starting to bother her that he was obsessed with this place.
That it was more about the house than it was her.
“Don’t let what other people say get to you,” he said.
“So people are saying something?” she asked. Her hands were on her hips. This was the last thing she wanted in her life right now. Another family that thought she was trying to move up in the world. Or that couldn’t accept her for who she was.
“No,” he said.
“I don’t believe it,” she said. “Someone said something to you. Admit it.”
“Listen,” he said. “My family knows I can’t sit still. It’s not a secret that I wanted this house. It’s a joke. Nothing more than that. No one thinks you are using me or taking advantage of me.”
It was the words he chose. “But someone did think that early on at least?” she asked.
“Not like you think,” he said.
She didn’t want to hear this. “I’m not taking advantage of you,” she snapped.
“I know. And no one thinks it now. They didn’t then either. It’s more joking or something. Nothing to worry about. My family loves you.”
“It was Evan, wasn’t it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Put it from your head,” he said. “Evan likes you. Parker loves you. I never said anything because Evan can be an asshole at times. He’s moody and has always been that way. He’ll admit when he’s wrong. He did the next day. I don’t want you mad at my brother over something he said or thought before he even saw you again based on the fact you bought this house over me.”
What Christian was saying made sense, but in her angry state she didn’t want to hear it. Or maybe even believe it.
“Whatever,” she said. “But it’s still the same as I said. I don’t need you doing things for me. I don’t need you working on my house because you feel sorry for me.”
“Feel sorry for you?” he asked. “Where is this all coming from?”
“The poor divorcee that came home with nothing,” she said. “My life is full of hand-me-downs and second-hand possessions. It’s always been that way. I know people looked at me in school like that and I see it now too.”
“You’re getting all worked up in your head about something that I’m not even thinking,” he said.
He got up with his plate and brought it to the garbage and dumped the remains in the trash.
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but me staying here is only going to make this conversation worse.”
“What’s going on is that we are having a fight,” she said. “I want you to know I don’t need you or anyone else controlling my life and making decisions for me. I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own.”
“Heard,” he said, grabbing his keys and slamming out the door.
Well, that wasn’t how she thought the day would go.
17
Ratting Me Out
