Page 91 of The Situation
“Oh, of course.” I grin. “I think it’s sweet that you have such a good relationship.”
“She’s been through a lot. Our father put her through hell.”
His features harden, and a fire flashes in his eyes. The kind, sweet Tate I’ve grown to know is momentarily gone.
“I assume you know that story,” he says, his voice cool and tight.
I shake my head.
“It was all over the news a few years ago.” His chest rises and falls slowly. “The quick and dirty is that my father is currently in prison for a lot of shit, including money laundering, attempted murder for trying to kill my sister?—”
I gasp.
“—and conspiracy to commit murder thanks to the hitman he hired to kill Mom.”
My eyeballs nearly pop out of my head.
He watches my reaction. His beautiful body is rigid. It takes me a long moment to realize that he’s putting up his guard—that he expects there’s a chance that I’ll look at him differently now that I know about his father.
I get up from my seat and move around the island. He watches me warily each step of the way.
My arms wrap around his waist, and I bury my head in his chest. He stills before he relents. I’m enveloped in the biggest, tightest hug of my entire life.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say. “And to your mother, and the rest of your family.”
He nestles his face in my hair.
We stand like this in the middle of his kitchen for the longest time, well past the moment the sun settles beyond the horizon. No words are exchanged. None are needed.
Finally, he gives me one last squeeze and steps back. His eyes are hesitant, like he’s unsure where I’ll take this conversation.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Then how did you find me tonight?”
A slow ripple of relief flows across his features, and he exhales.
“Tally,” he says.
“Tally?” I laugh. “You’re joking.”
He smirks. “I don’t think she meant to tell me.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to decide whether I believe that or not. Heisher boss’s boss, so, on one hand, I could understand her answering him truthfully if he asked. But I can also see her being so dazzled by him that she just forked over the information without realizing it.
Tate can be a persuasive beast. And, well, it worked out for me, anyway.
I pick up my glass. “I’ll forgive her. I remember what it’s like to be young and easily impressed.”
“What were you like when you were her age?”
“At her age? Well, let’s see … I probably would’ve been a cheerleader for a pro football team and wrapping up college.”
“You were a cheerleader?”
I nod.
