“But you did. You knew I would have—” He stops himself, running his hand through his hair until it’s ruffled and standing all over the place. “Fuck, you know what?” He stands up, throwing his shirt on the ground and putting his phone in his pocket. “It doesn’t fucking matter. Do what the fuck you want, Tillie. You’re going to anyway.” He goes to walk past me and I’m so fucking confused that my hand flies out to his arm.
He stills as goosebumps travel over my flesh from the connection, his head leaning to look down at my hand. I ignore the pang of electricity that zips through from him to me, I’m used to it now. This is a Nate thing. He probably has it with other people too.
He laughs, but it’s not a friendly laugh. It’s a sarcastic chuckle that tears at my chest with its sharp claws. He turns full-on to face me and suddenly, I shrink in my spot at his mere size and proximity. He steps forward, and I step back, pizza in hand. “You come back into my life with my daughter, and then run with her, and then come back without her because of your crazy sister, so I get her back, and now, now, you have the audacity to fucking touch me like you own me?” he yells, and something snaps inside of me.
My back hits the stair rail and now I’m trapped. I narrow my eyes. Fight or flight, and I will always fight. “I didn’t have a fucking choice, Nate! Have you forgotten who my mother is? Have you forgotten everything that happens in this world?” My hands are flinging everywhere, and I drop my pizza in the process. That only irks me even more.
His hand comes to my face, his shoulders slightly pulling back and his legs separating. I notice the stance, I see the shift of his eyes. He’s mad. He brings his mouth down to mine, but not enough for our lips to touch, just enough to be able to feel his breath tickle over my flesh.
“You don’t get to come back into my life and fuck with my head again, baby.” He squeezes harder, so much so that my lips pop. I clench my jaw tight, my eyes searching his in defiance.
“You left. You don’t get to run circles around and around in my head. I’ll trip you the fuck over and watch you fall on your face.”
“Why do you hate me!” I yell, ignoring the pang in my chest from his verbal stab. My throat clogs with unshed emotion and I have to physically stop myself from crying. God this night has been the worst girl’s night in the history of girl’s nights.
He narrows his eyes, something flashes over them momentarily, and just when I think maybe I had struck a nerve, it’s gone and a snarl curls in the corner of his mouth.
“Because you’re a fucking trailer park slut. You don’t belong in this world.” Then he pushes me forward. “Leave, Tillie. You aren’t welcome here and you don’t fit into this world. Leave my fucking daughter here, though, and if you come for her, I’ll take you to court, and who do you think has the most money to splurge on a lawyer? Oh, that’s right—me, and even if I didn’t, who has most of this damn city in their pocket, oh, that’s right—us,” he hisses, his eyes piercing mine. He gives me one more up and down stare before he turns his back on me and makes his way across to the main house.
I drop to my knees and exhale the pent-up breath I’ve been holding. Strength is a muscle. You exercise it enough, you become a big motherfucker.
But I am still human, and a girl, so pain rips through my flesh, cutting me open and exposing all of my impurities and insecurities. He’s never been so cruel to me—ever. Yeah, he’s Nate Riverside, the school playboy, but he has never been cruel. I feel like my world has stopped spinning, gravity threatening to release.
Picking up the pizza box and my shoes, I make my way into the pool house, leaving Nate’s stupid shirt on the porch.
I flop onto the bed, dropping the pizza box on the coffee table and close my eyes. So. Fucking. Drunk.
The next morning, I wake at seven with a pounding headache. Slipping in and out of the shower quickly, I throw on some skinny jeans that I bought yesterday and a slightly loose shirt. As soon as I’m inside the main house, I can hear Micaela and I quickly round the corner that leads from the sitting room into the kitchen, but my smile falls when Nate has her on the dining table.
His eyes come to mine, but he looks right through me before going back to Micaela.
“Oh, morning, Tillie!” Elena says, walking into the kitchen with a coffee mug between her palms. It feels awkward, and the words Nate said to me are ringing in the back of my head.
“Morning. Thank you for watching her last night.” But it won’t be happening again.
“Oh.” She brushes my comment away. “Don’t even mention it. We had lots of fun. How was your night?”
I pause, swallow and then shuffle uncomfortably. “It was, fun,” I lie, because I don’t have the energy to get into anything right now.
Nate is still ignoring me when Elena tells me to again, help myself to the kitchen. I don’t like it, so I shake my head. I’ll have to go shopping today after looking for a job. This blows.
I make my way into the dining room, taking the seat far away from Nate.
He licks his lips and stands, handing her to me. I ignore the ache that sets over me when his arm brushes against mine as he lays her in my arms.
“I won’t be back tonight. Text me if you need me.” Then he looks up to his
