His jaw tenses, but he doesn’t argue the point. “What are you doing here, Tinley? You’ve made it perfectly fucking clear where you stand.”
“I want you to explain this.” I pull the envelope out of my purse and hold it up. He keeps his eyes on mine, not even bothering to look at the thing.
“I wanted you to have a choice.” His words are slow, coming out with so much gravel it’s almost like he’s chewed and swallowed glass.
“A choice? What? Between full-time and part-time?”
His head tilts, brows drawing closer together. “What? Did you even open the fucking envelope?”
A door across the street closes, drawing my attention. An old man waves from his front porch, coffee cup in hand as he takes a seat in an old rocking chair. He holds the thing up in salute as if giving us permission to continue in the front yard with the drama. We’re a damn spectacle, and I hate that my world is being rocked with a damn audience.
“Do you want to come inside?”
Not particularly, but I don’t want all of this to unfold for the entire street to bear witness to either.
Without a word, I climb the steps and follow him inside.
The entire thing is gutted down to the studs. As I follow him deeper, I realize an entire wall is missing, opening up the room so the living area can be seen from the kitchen. There are no cabinets, no countertops, no sink.
“You’ve been busy,” I mutter.
“I’ve had time on my hands,” he says, making it clear he’s done the demolition himself. “I’ve been staying at that other rental property.”
The one with three bedrooms. The one with enough space for a teenager, game room included. The one that would impress a judge.
“What’s in the envelope,” I demand.
“Open the fucking thing, Tin.”
“I—I—” I stare down at the thing in my hands, and I just can’t bring myself to do it.
“For fuck’s sake,” he says, grabbing the thing from me and ripping it open. “You’ve had this damn thing how long? You haven’t even opened it? Who does that? Do you know what’s been riding on this, how long I’ve been agonizing over what’s in here, thinking you opened it and made your choice? Jesus, Tin. Look.”
I search his eyes before looking at his hands, but I don’t find an explanation there either.
“Take it.”
Paper hits my palm, demanding my attention.
“A check?” Damn it, does he really think he can buy my son’s custody from me?
“Your half.”
“Of Alex?”
He sighs, a frustrated grumble before taking a deep breath as if he needs the strength not to react a certain way.
“From the sale of the house.”
I look down now, seeing more zeros than I know should be on there.
“A hundred thousand dollars? That’s half?” I continue to look at the rectangle. “That’s too much—why do you have this to hand over to me?”
I take a step back from him.
“And this,” he snaps, unfolding the other paperwork, “is the goddamn deed to the house. It’s not official and I don’t know if it needs to be refiled, but it requires your signature. Apparently, it’s not okay to give someone a house without them actually signing for it.”
“What?” I look to the legal paperwork in his hands. My brain is spazzing right now, unable to shift gears from thinking this visit was about custody only to find out that he’s somehow involved in the purchase and sale of my mother’s house.
“I made sure Cooper got his half, but I don’t expect him to stay away. He’ll probably come sniffing around for part of yours as we—”
“Stop!” I hold my hand up. “What the hell is going on?”
He glares at me, unable to shift his agitation into something that makes him more approachable.
“You didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay in this shitty town with shitty circumstances. You wanted to martyr yourself for the sake of pride. You didn’t want to give Alex a better life. You don’t want to love me. Ringing any fucking bells?”
“Ignacio.” I watch as he begins to pace, irritation making him clench his hands, the paperwork in one crinkling.
“I gave you a choice. This,” he shakes the papers, “is a grand gesture, Tin, but you didn’t even look? You had excuses, reasons you couldn’t—”
“I didn’t ask for this!” I scream, my emotions in overdrive. “I don’t want your help. I don’t need fucking saving.”
The stupid check, one for more money than I’ve ever seen or will ever see again floating to the floor at our feet.
“That pride,” he jabs a finger in my direction, “is exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Pride? This isn’t about pride. This is about you popping up and turning every fucking thing upside down. This is you making decisions without speaking to me. This is about—”
His lips are on mine, tongue demanding entrance to my mouth. He’s not asking or begging, he’s taking.
It short circuits my brain even further, and as much as I’d like to say I don’t know what’s happening, that lie wouldn’t hold water because my hands are ripping at his clothes just as fast as his are at mine.
Chapter 31
Ignacio
I growl against her mouth when she nips at my lower lip.
This woman drives me fucking insane, and not just because I want to be around her all the time.
Literally insane.
I never considered she didn’t open the fucking envelope, but of course she’d been stewing over it, pissing herself off with each passing minute since I left it with her. I know her. I should have known she would pull this shit.
“Up,” I hiss, grabbing at the back of her thighs when she finally kicks her jeans off one leg. “Fucking hold on, Tin.”
We’re out of control, but I know she’s as into it right now as I am because the throbbing tip of my cock glides easily against her arousal. Fuck I want this so bad, but in the fantasies I’ve let myself engage in since coming back to Texas
