Page 41 of Morally Black Betrothal
For the first time, I felt wholly unafraid of what this man could do to me.
“Try me, old man,” I told him. “I fuckin’ dare you.”
My father stared at me like he didn’t recognize me, though a moment later, I thought I saw one corner of his mouth lift in something like pride.
Or maybe just haughty awareness.
You never could tell with him.
With a tactful clearing of her throat, Simone broke our standoff. “Um, Brendan, it’s okay. Mr. Black, I apologize. I’m just here to help if you need.”
But she wasn’t looking at him. She was watching me with something akin to fear.
As I straightened, I hated myself. Hated the monster this asshole had turned me into, the kind of person who would threaten his sickly father in a hospital bed.
Hatedthat Simone had seen that side of me at all, even though it had come out to protect her.
“Unless you’re a doctor signing my discharge papers, I don’t need shit from you, twinkie.” Dad twisted toward the door. “Nurse! Get her out of here! I want my doctor! I want some goddamn help!”
The heart monitor and several other machines erupted with activity, and within seconds, the room was swarmed with people.
“Simone, honey, we need some space.” Joan moved to check Dad’s vitals.
I turned to tell Simone not to worry. To tell her it wasn’t her fault. But she wouldn’t meet my eyes.
By the time the monitors sank back to a steady beep along with my father’s breathing, she was gone.
And so was my chance, yet again, to ask her for what I really needed.
To be my wife.
9
KNOCK, KNOCK
Simone
Twinkie.
That’s what he called me.
Whether it was in reference to my size or the fact that people thought I sometimes looked years younger than my actual age, it certainly wasn’t meant kindly.
But it wasn’t actually Niall Black’s harsh indictment of my looks (or maybe my character? I still wasn’t sure) that disturbed me so much. I’d been volunteering in the hospital long enough to see all manner of reactions to me from patients of all ages.
It was his son’s response to it that was so disturbing. I couldn’t shake it the whole bus ride home that evening.
The transformation from the quiet, thoughtful man I’d spoken to, even embraced at the bar and come close to something…else…right there in the ICU (I wasn’t even going to think aboutthatmoment right now) into the ruthless warrior was, in a word, terrifying.
He’d assumed a mask as quickly as a knight slamming down a visor. One moment, his face was full of kindness and emotion. The next, it was no different from an iron sheath.
And the fact that this alternate personality had been lurking so close to the surface was downright spooky.
“Sel?” I called when I returned to the apartment a few minutes before six.
There was no answer. There was no one home, and what’s more, my sister’s and Kylie’s things were gone. So were a bunch of my toiletries and a few snacks out of the pantry.
This wasn’t a surprise. Selena always tended to come and go like the wind. When she’d returned today just after one, she’d mentioned that she planned to leave as soon as possible, since she knew when she “wasn’t wanted.”
