Page 55 of Hush Money
“What is it, baby?” I whisper, cupping her face in my hand. She sniffs and shakes her head, forcing a little smile. I just stroke her cheek with my thumb, waiting for her to be ready. My stomach churns. Should I have kept my mouth shut? Or—god help me—is she worried she made some sort of mistake?
She wraps her hand around my wrist. I take a long breath.
“I’m so…I’m so relieved,” she says. “I’m so proud of myself for saying all of that. But I’m still so mad that it took me so long. What was I…what was I thinking? How could I…how could I let someone make me feel so small?”
My heart splinters in my chest.
I want to turn the car around, get out, and deck him.
Fuck that guy. Fuck everything he ever did and said to her that made her feel anything less than fucking perfect.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I whisper, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. I hold my lips to her for a few seconds, as if I’m willing the sadness to leave her body. I remember this feeling. I remember being so angry with myself when I finally got out of the city, when I finally felt like I was out of my dad’s clutch, when his words of disappointment in me finally dissipated the longer I stayed the fuck away from him.
And I remember the shame. How angry I was with myself for letting him hold onto me, digging his claws in so deep.
It took me years and a lot of therapy to finally forgive myself. To comfortably place the blame onhim.To come to terms that the responsible party was my father.
It didn’t happen overnight. And it won’t for her either. There will be a voice in her head that will try and drag her back down.
But I’ll be louder.
I’ll be the voice that fights back until she’s ready to do it herself.
And I make a silent promise to both of us in this moment that she will never feel anything but loved, cherished, and safe with me. She will feel like she is enough, because she’s so, so much more. She is everything. She always has been.
I tip her head back up to me again, swiping her tears away from her eyes.
“You were just surviving, baby,” I tell her. “You were doing what you had to do to get by. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you will realize it. And you will forgive yourself. And until you do, I’ll be here to remind you of everything that you deserve. Because it’s the fucking world, Evie.”
She looks up at me, tear-filled eyes now showing signs of something else: hope.
And if I give her nothing else, let it be that.
EVIE
Afew weeks have passed since Cato’s party and our run-in with Tanner. My lawyer got word that he agreed to mediation, and since I’m not asking for anything besides a few personal belongings, my lawyer thinks it should be “quick and painless.”
I’ve been going to work normally, taking care of my cases during the day, and still working a few shifts at the diner at night. Each time I do, Keaton shows up at the start of my shift and sits at the counter until I’m done. He says he doesn’t like sleeping without me, and if I’m being honest, I love it. Sometimes he brings Julian and Sawyer. Brooks has come once and has since claimed he will be back for the pancakes.
It’s nice to have people.
I walk around, taking orders for the shift workers who come in for their late-night meals, and all the while, I feel his eyes on me, keeping tabs on me. It feels protective, but it also just feels like love.
Like hewantsto be here.
I walk by him again as he stares up at the television, but as I brush by him, I feel his hand graze my ass. I turn back to him and give him a knowing look.
“Watch it, sir,” I tell him. “My boyfriend is the jealous type.”
As soon as I say the words, I freeze. My eyes go wide, and I stare back at him. I cannot believe I just fucking said that.
But he doesn’t look scared or uncomfortable. He looks amused.
“Boyfriend, huh?” he asks. He leans back against the bar, and if I wasn’t so fucking embarrassed right now, I’d be so fucking turned on. BecauseGod, the way he looks right now… One arm up on the counter. Shaggy, perfect sandy locks tousled about. Muscles bulging from his tight t-shirt. And that look in his eyes…like he’s starving, and I am what he’s hungry for.
I don’t answer him, because I don’t know what to say.
That devilish smile stays on his face as he pushes himself to stand, walking toward me.
