Page 40 of His Reward
“And the two of you are dating?” she asked on, her expression so hopeful.
It felt like something was gnawing at my insides, like I was being dragged kicking and screaming…into something I desperately wanted. It would be a lie to deny dating Boston. It would be disingenuous to say I hadn’t dreamed of marrying him and having kids with him. Over and over, I’d dreamed about a play scenario where we pretended he was force-breeding me and I got pregnant for real, but nobody other than me and Boston needed to know that.
Basically, I hated the fact that all the things I wanted seemed to be playing right into my father’s hand.
Well, notallthe things he wanted.
“Iamdating Boston, yes,” I said, shifting to stand by Boston’s side and taking his hand instead of half hiding behind him. “And yes, he is the firefighter who saved me from the blaze.” Nobody needed to know we’d met before or how. Nobody at all. Ever.
“You see?” my father said, grinning and gesturing to us. “It’s the perfect human interest story. I couldn’t have arranged it better myself.”
Father laughed. Everyone else in the room tensed. I could feel Boston bristle, and he probably felt just how irritated I was as well.
I cut through the moment by addressing Jennifer directly again and said, “Boston and I are together, and he’s been a huge help and encouragement in my dream of getting back out on the ice again and winning that gold medal at the Winter Games in three years.”
“This is ridiculous,” my father said with a scowl.
“You’re really determined to make a comeback?” Jennifer asked, side-eying my father.
“Absolutely,” I said. “One hundred percent.”
Jenn looked a little more openly at my father for a second before she seemed to make a choice and address me. “Would you be willing to do an interview about that? About all of this, really,” she asked, gesturing to Boston and the rehab room.
I winced. My skin still throbbed and itched from Gemma’s work for the last hour. All I wanted to do was go home and curl up on the sofa with Boston, watching whatever he wanted to watch on TV while I took a nap in his arms.
“Alright,” I said with a tired sigh, rubbing my forehead with my good hand. “But some other day. I’m exhausted from therapy, and Boston really needs to go back to work at the firehouse.” I sent Boston a stern look to remind him that I didn’t want him to get fired for taking too much time away from his job. I had a feeling that had been more of a real possibility lately than he wanted to let on.
“I’m not on duty until five tonight,” he said, like I’d been sassy and he was sassing me back.
“Aaw, you two are so cute together,” Jennifer said, back to being her happy, perky self.
Arrangements for a more formal interview were made. I tried to take charge of the whole thing, but I hadn’t been lying when I said I was exhausted, and my father was still bound and determined to make the whole thing about him. Once I was finished with Jennifer, he walked her and her cameraman out of the building, which couldn’t have been good.
“I swear,” Mom said as she and Boston walked with me out to Boston’s car, “there are days when I want to divorce that man.”
“Why don’t you?” I asked, too tired to censor myself.
Mom sighed. “He wasn’t always like this, you know. Getting older has been hard on him. He just wants to be relevant.” She paused as Boston held the door for me and I climbed into his passenger seat, then finished with, “But if he keeps acting like this….”
“I love you, Mom,” I said, leaning out of the car so I could kiss her cheek.
I spent the whole ride home in relative silence, stewing over the whole thing. My father had crossed a serious line. We were going to have to have a talk, sooner rather than later. Mom was right to say that he’d changed. I also understood her reasons for not leaving him, even though he’d turned into a first-rate jerk. I hadn’t exactly pried myself out of his controlling grasp either. Was that impulse to stay in an unhealthy relationship connected to my need to sub out now and then? God, I hoped not.
“Do you want me to stay for a while?” Boston asked once we’d made it home.
Yes. Please stay. Please stay forever and make me feel that you still want me.
“You need to get to work,” I told him.
Boston gave me that look that said he could see straight through me. He stepped up to where I’d moved to look out the window at the ocean, turned me to face him, and pulled me into an embrace.
“You need me to stay,” he said. “I can see it all over your face. I can feel it in the proto-bond between us.”
“There’s no such thing as a proto-bond, you made that up,” I said.
The look he gave me said he wasn’t amused with me splitting hairs and avoiding the subject. It also had my insides quivering and slick threatening to make me wet.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said, resting his hand tenderly on the side of my face. “I can’t help you if you keep hiding things from me.”
