I walk over to the antique desk that stands out from all of the modern touches in the room. I take a seat behind the desk in the leather swivel chair. I open one of the draws to my right, it’s filled with files and important documents.
“Hayley?” Kyle’s voice echoes through the apartment.
I slam the draw closed, just Kyle turns the corner into the room. I stand up from the chair and look at him. He’s changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a black t shirt, his hair damp from his shower.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing in here?” he asks, his brows knitting together.
“I was just looking around.”
“Snooping?”
“What? No.”
He eats up the floor and rounds the desk, a tiny corner of white paper peeks out of the draw. Kyle sees it and looks up at me, anger brewing inside him.
“So, what were you hoping to find exactly?” he asks, irritated.
“Nothing, I... I don’t know what I was doing. I-”
“You don’t know what you were doing? Hayley, the documents I have in there are private, confidential, for my eyes only, don’t you know it’s rude to snoop in someone’s house, through their stuff? When I said make yourself at home, I meant help yourself to a drink, or food in the fucking refrigerator, not rifle through my shit,” he shouts.
“I’m sorry, okay. I wasn’t snooping, I was just curious, you don’t have to speak to me like I’m a child.” I fight back tears that sting the backs of my eyes. “You know what? I’m out of here, screw the money and you’re pathetic little game, I don’t give a shit.” I begin to walk away, I round the corner of the desk and head for the door.
Kyle’s hand grips the tops of my arms and spins me to face him, my back hits the wall as Kyle boxes me in, his hand come down hard against the wall either side of my head.
I flinch away from him, squeezing my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable blow, for his raised voice, but they never come.
Everything goes silent, only Kyle’s heavy breaths fill the small room.
I slowly open my eyes to find Kyle, who still towers over me, all the anger that had filled Kyle’s face has drained away, in its place is fear, pure fear. He stumbles away from me, terrified, the back of his thighs hitting the desk hard. His hands shake uncontrollably.
“I’m so sorry, Hayley. I-” His voice shaky. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Do you want to hurt me? Is that it?”
“No, of course not. Fuck, Hayley, I’m so sorry.” His voice breaks and his face falls into his hands. He slouches against the desk, repeating the word ‘sorry’ over and over again, softly.
I take a step towards him and take hold of his wrist, pulling his hands away from his face. He looks up at me, a single tear falls down his face and I catch it with my thumb, as he had done for me only a few nights ago.
“I’m so sorry. I get angry sometimes, I can’t stop it, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“What’s so bad you didn’t want me to see?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t say.”
“I need you to explain it to me. You’ve got to give me some answers.”
He takes my hands in his, holding them to his lips, kissing my fingers, his lips brushing back and forth over them softly. “I would never hurt you, Hayley, you have to know that. Never. I couldn’t. I’d hurt myself before I ever hurt you, and God help anyone who thinks of laying a finger on you. I won’t be like him, I can’t.”
“Like who?” I ask.
He brings my hands down away from his lips but doesn’t let go, instead, he grips my hands tighter and looks up at me, his lips pulling tight over his teeth. “My father,” he spits out. “My real father.”
He stands up and guides me by the hand into the living area and over to the couch where I perch on the edge. He releases my hands and moves to sit in the large armchair directly opposite me, the coffee table the only thing separating us. He rests his elbows on his knees and holds his head in his hands, rocking back and forth softly.
I wait for him to speak and after a moment, he looks up at me, rubbing his jaw, as if he’s on the verge of saying something but doesn’t know how to say it.
“The reason I don’t talk about him, is because it’s not something I’m proud of. I’ve spent so many years pretending, trying to block the thought of him out of my mind, but, every now and then...”
“Kyle, look-”
“No, I need you to hear this. I need to show you that I would never lay a hand against you, ever. I just need you to understand.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“I found out I was adopted when I was fifteen, my parents never really told me anything about my real mom, at that point I didn’t really care about them, after all they left me, gave me up... or so I thought, that was until about five years ago. I’d just graduated college and landed a job at my dad’s company. I don’t know why but one day I woke up and wanted to know more. I spoke to my dad and he told me that my birth mother committed suicide a couple of months after I was born, she hung herself.”
“Oh my God, Kyle...” My insides twist with hurt.
“From what I've been told, she was lovely. Kind, caring, clever, a student at NYU. She’d just turned nineteen when she had me. She gave me to my parents before she died.”
“So, your parents knew her?” I ask.
“She was my mom’s younger sister, so technically, my mom is actually my aunt, but they adopted me anyway, took me in
