Page 21 of Needing You

Shit.Three minutes in, and I’d already stepped in it, first ogling her glorious body and now acting like she’d chosen not to open a bakery if she wanted.

“Have you and Jackson had fun lately?” she asked, mercifully breaking the silence between us.

“Yeah. He’s been great. I’m amazed he’s so willing to get to know me and seems to want to continue.” It never failed to surprise me when he’d actually show where we planned to meet. Not that I’d chosen to be an absentee father, but even knowing that wouldn’t have stopped the teenage version of me from punishing the guy trying to be my dad after years of not being there.

“That’s good.”

The tightness in her voice had me eying her. “What?”

“What?”

“Are you mad he’s hanging out with me?” If she was about to tell me I needed to back off, then she could back the hell up, because there wasn’t a chance that was happening unless Jackson himself asked me to get lost.

“No, no.” She reached across the tiny table and set a hand on my wrist. “Not at all. Buthe’smad atme.”

Before she could pull away, I set my opposite hand over hers, impulsively needing that connection. “Why do you say that?”

“He won’t talk to me.”

“Does he usually?”

She huffed. “Yes. We’re close. It’s been the two of us for so long, and now it’s like—” Her mouth snapped closed.

A pulse of anger worked through me, and I shifted. “What? Just say it. Why spare my feelings now when you clearly didn’t give a shit before?”

Her whole demeanor hardened, like she’d wrapped herself in a protective shell. “I’m sorry. I’ll say sorry every day for the rest of my life if that’ll help. And I owe him that, too, but I’m not sure he’ll ever even attempt to forgive me based on how cold he’s being.”

I exhaled through my nose, anger and empathy wrestling for the upper hand in my mind.

She pushed away from the table and stood. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

I shot up and jogged after her, grabbing her arm before she reached the curb. “Wait. Stay. Please.”

Her throat worked to swallow, and I tugged on her with a little more insistence before she finally gave me her eyes.

I’d always been a sucker for those deep-brown eyes. God, she made me weak just looking at her, even while we were in the middle of a fight. Even while half of me wanted nothing to do with her, the other half begged to get close by any means possible. “Please stay and let me get over myself and have a second chance at not being an overbearing asshole.”

She chuckled low. “You’re not… entirely an asshole.”

I grinned. “See? There we go. Getting along just fine.”

With a shake of her head, she took her seat again, and I took mine across from her.

“Let’s try that again. You say Jackson’s freezing you out, that things are different, and instead of being a fuckhead, I say, ‘I’m sorry. That sounds hard. What can I do to help?’”

Her lashes fluttered. “I’m not sure if you’re being even more of a jerk or if you’re serious.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Her eyes tracked the movement, then slid back to meet my gaze. “I guess that’s what I get, huh?”

Her lips pressed together to hide a grin.

“I’m being serious. I want to know if I can help. I want to understand why you think there’s something wrong between you. If by some miracle I—as the new dad in town—can help, I want to.”

She traced the lid of her cup. “He’s not telling me things. It’s not like he’s ignoring me entirely, but I get the bare minimum. One-word answers to my questions. Nothing more. Basic itineraries for his days, but none of the good stuff.”

The furrow in her brow and the way she seemed physically hurt by admitting this distance between them made me feel all kinds of shitty, confusing things. Thoughts like “Is this such a surprise?” and “I’ll talk some sense into him, the little ingrate” slipped through my mind while my knee reached out of its own accord and jostled her leg.

“He’s got a lot to process right now, I guess,” I tried, instead of tossing either of the other brilliant thoughts out.

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