Page 30 of Don't Love Me
Drug addict mother meant loser son.
Except Marc was anything but a loser. He’d risen to the top of everything he did.
Now he was fixing the filter on the pool by himself. Both my father and George were gone for the day. I glanced down at the expensive black bikini I was wearing. To date, I hadn’t really been able to make an impression on him with my choice of swimwear, but this was the sexiest thing I’d ever bought. Barely there, lots of strings. My butt and boobs were basically on display, and, if my father saw me wearing it, he would have a heart attack.
But he wasn’t here. And Marc finally had a Saturday where he didn’t have to go into the office to work. I skipped through the house, down the stairs, and out back to the pool. I took off the swim cover I was wearing and dropped it on a lounge chair before I made my way over to where Marc was working.
He glanced up when he felt my presence looming.
This time. Maybe for the first time. He saw me.
Hesawme for what I was. Thin, but not too thin. High breasts. Soft curly blond hair that fell past my shoulders. Not a girl anymore. I knew it bothered him because after looking at me up and down, his jaw started ticking in a way it did whenever I got under his skin.
“It’s hot today. Want me to bring you a soda or some water?” I offered.
“No.”
“What about some food? You’ve been working out here for hours.”
“Not hungry,” he mumbled. “You don’t need to serve me, either. Remember you’re the princess in the castle. I’m just the lowly peasant.”
I sighed. “I was just trying to be courteous. You’re doing a favor for us by fixing the filter, the least I can do is offer something in return.”
His eyes narrowed. “This isn’t afavor. It’s work. Your father expects labor for my board here, and I expect to pay for my rent. When are you going to start to get that, Ash? This isn’t my home. This is just a place I’ve gotten to stay for a few years because my uncle happens to work here. I’ve had to earn it.”
I crossed my arms over my stomach because he was making me feel the way he did sometimes. Like these past few years had meant nothing. That we hadn’t been anything more than the princess and the peasant. At best, casual acquaintances, when I knew it wasn’t true.
He knew it, too.
“Okay. Sure. You do that, Marc. Convince yourself I’m just some spoiled princess who barely acknowledges your existence. And you’re the poor peasant who lives under a staircase or something equally pathetic.”
He stood then from where he’d been kneeling next to the filter, and I could see how much he’d changed, now he wasn’t wearing the suits he’d worn all summer to his office job.
Dressed only in a pair of swim trunks and no shirt, it was like he’d become this other person I didn’t know. Certainly not the boy I grew up with. Broader shoulders. The hair on his chest was thicker than it had been. He was taller, too. He’d always been bigger than me, but now it was like he dwarfed me.
So much so I might have taken a step back in defense, if not for one very important reason. Marc Campbell didn’t scare me. He might breathe fire like a dragon. He might be formulating in his head the most hurtful thing he could say to me. But I knew the truth.
He would never ever hurt me.
“No, Ash. You’re right. You’ve always acknowledged my existence. Since you were ten years old, you’ve been on my heels like a fucking terrier dog gnawing at my ankle and not letting go. So every once and a while I had to kick you to get you to back off.”
“You’re going to kick me again now,” I said, lifting my chin. “Go ahead and do it. You know I can take anything you dish out.”
He moved quickly, pushing himself into my space. I flinched but I still didn’t take a step back. That’s when he brought both his hands up to cup my face, holding me in his grasp, so I could do nothing but look at his hard, brown eyes.
“Nah, kicking you doesn’t seem to work. So let’s put all our chips on the table. Tell me why I can’t shake you loose. After all the shitty things I’ve done. After I nearly killed you—”
“You didn’t nearly kill me. It was an asthma attack,” I interrupted.
“Why?” he barked.
“You know why,” I said, resigned to my fate.
“I do. But I want to hear you say it.”
That was easy. Because there was no truer thing I knew. “I love you.”
He flinched like I’d hit him, but it’s what he’d wanted to hear. What he’d wanted me to admit.
