Chapter 23 (Breslin)
I go to open the fridge, but I can't, thanks to a massive, tall jerk in my way. “Move.”
Asher opens a drawer and pulls out a jar of mayonnaise. “I'm not done.”
I glare at him. “I don't even know why you're bothering in the first place.” I point to the plate sitting on the counter. “I've got it covered.”
He snorts. “Turkey is a better choice for people with diabetes than peanut butter is.”
Slipping my arm past him, I snatch the milk from the fridge and walk back over to the counter. “Wrong. Peanut butter helps control blood sugar.” I pull down a glass from the cabinet. “Turkey is just...turkey.”
“You know, I don't remember you being this argumentative and stubborn when we were together.”
I toss the knife in the sink. This way, I'm not tempted to use it on him. “Funny, I don't remember you being this much of an asshole.” I pause. “Oh...wait. Actually, I do.”
I go back to making Landon's sandwich but take a heavy breath when I feel his presence behind me.
Before I can protest, he opens the cabinet above my head to take down his own glass. “For your information, turkey is protein.”
“So is peanut butter.”
“I think it's safe to say I know a hell of a lot more about sports and nutrition than you do.”
My cheeks heat and embarrassment creeps up my spine with those words. I find myself wishing I wasn't standing here in nothing but one of Landon's t-shirts, putting my imperfections on display for him to make fun of. “God, be a dick, why don't you.”
He slams the glass down on the counter top. “Breslin, that wasn't a dig.” He dips his head until his lips are hovering above my ear. “Not that kind of dig, anyway.”
I gasp when he presses his hips against my ass and I feel every inch of him. “Trust me, I love your body. Always have.” He sucks my earlobe between his teeth and I have to clutch the counter to stop myself from falling. “And I can't wait to see every inch of it again tonight.”
I ignore the impact those words have on the heartbroken Breslin who used to cry herself to sleep thinking he didn't want her because she wasn't attractive enough for him.
I pick up his glass and face him. “Don't you have someplace to be?”
He leans in, invading every inch of my personal space. “As a matter of fact—”
“Hey.”
The glass in my hand falls at the sound of Landon's deep voice.
Asher catches the glass less than a second before it hits the floor. “Hey, make any progress in the studio this morning?”
Landon lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Some. I'm gonna head back, though. I just stepped out to grab something to eat because I felt a little off.”
I pick up my plate at the same time Asher picks up his. “I made you lunch.” I say at the same time Asher does.
I give him a dirty look and he gives me one right back.
Landon looks between us, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
I take a step forward and hold my plate out to him. When Asher does the same, it's all I can do not to stomp on his foot. “Which one do you want?”
Landon's lips twitch and I fight the urge to do a happy dance when he picks up my sandwich.
I'm about to give Asher a shit-eating grin but then Landon picks up Asher's sandwich and lays it on top of the one I made.
He takes a huge bite and swallows. “So good.”
Whatever tension in the room breaks up with those words and Asher and I both make a face. There's no way in the world that tastes good.
Asher swipes his gym bag off the floor and looks at Landon. “Coach called an emergency practice, so I have to head out.”
Before any of us can say a word, he strides across the room to Landon and kisses him full on the mouth. I stare at them as they kiss, feeling equal parts jealous and fascinated with their interaction.
“Create something amazing today,” Asher says against his lips and Landon smiles. “I'll see what I can do. Have fun at practice.”
Asher turns to face me then. The heat blazing in those blue orbs of is enough to make my temperature skyrocket and I shift uncomfortably. “See you later, Breslin.” I don't miss the challenge in his voice.
I can feel Landon's eyes on me after the door closes and guilt snags me. There's no way he missed the way Asher looked at me or my response to it. Something about this scenario just feels so...tricky and complex.
I can't meet his eyes. “I should get ready for my shift at the coffee shop.”
I start to walk away but his hands find my hips, and the next thing I know I'm being picked up and placed on the counter.
He steps between my thighs and kisses my temple. “What's going on up here?” he murmurs into my hair and tingles race up and down my spine.
I want to lie and tell him I'm fine, but I can't. So, I tell him the truth. “I don't know.”
He closes his eyes and inhales. “Are you—” He swallows thickly, looking so insecure and worried that my own chest constricts. “Are you disgusted by me...by what I did last night?”
My heart sinks because that isn't at all true, and the fact that Landon thinks that is like a kick to the stomach.
I grab his face, and when his eyes come to rest on mine I tell him, “No. What you did last night wasn't disgusting.” I pull him closer, because our weird situation aside, he needs to understand one very important thing. “And don't you ever let anyone tell you differently.”
His body goes slack and he wraps his arms around me, like all the pressure he was holding onto has now evaporated.
“I'm scared,” I admit. “I'm scared of what's going to happen.” What's already happening. I'm scared of all the things I don't understand—like how much I hate Asher for what he did, but crave him at the same time. Or how jealous I get when they're together, but how utterly captivated and turned on I am by it.
His fingers curve around my neck and he waits for me to look up at him. “I know you and Asher have some kind of...whatever is going on between you two right now. But you never have to do something that you don't want. I promised you I would keep you safe and I meant it, Breslin.”
“I know. I just think—” I stall, because I don't know how to explain something to him that I don't even understand myself. I glance at the clock and curse, thankful for the distraction. “I think I'm going to be late for my shift.”
He moves away and I jump off the counter, but not before he captures my lips. I hold myself steady against him as he flicks his tongue along mine in the softest and sweetest caress there is, like I'm fragile and delicate. Like I'm valuable.
“I'll see you later,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Unlike Asher's goodbye that was laced with a challenge, Landon's is filled with uncertainty, like he doesn't think I'll be back tonight.
But I will...because I need this.
I walk into his living room/bedroom and quickly begin getting dressed before I hustle toward the front door. “You will see me later,” I promise right before I close the door and my cell phone rings.
Irritation and nerves fill me when I see my father's name flash across the screen. I haven't talked to him since right before I left for Europe...which means he's only calling about one thing.
I bring the phone up to my ear as I walk down the stairs and head out to my car. “Hey, Dad.”
“I'm late on the electric again,” he slurs.
The fact that he didn't even bother to say hello to me has me grinding my molars. “But you were sent money last month, remember?”
I leave the implication hanging in the air—because we both know the only way he would have went through the money that quickly is if he spent it all on alcohol and drugs.
There's a long pause on the other line before he says, “Guess that college living of yours makes you all high and mighty now, huh? Thinking you can talk to me any old way.”
Here we go. “Dad—”
“This is the thanks I get for taking care of your stupid, sorry ass when she didn't want you. Being questioned by my daughter who thinks her shit don't stink. Well, guess what? You ain't shit. You never will be.”
His words sting. Even though I've heard them so many times over the years I lost count, it always stings.
But he's right in a way. He might not have taken care of me the way other parents take care of their children...but he didn't give me up, either. He was there...he didn't abandon me.
“Maybe if I had given you up my life would be better,” he adds, digging the knife deeper. “Maybe I'd be happy without you just like she is.”
“I'm sorry,” I whisper, hating the way my voice is starting to shake, but I can't help it. His words hurt so fucking much.
In the back of my mind, I know there's a million things wrong with his statement. Even though I've never had a healthy family dynamic, I know his words are abusive and not the loving words a father should tell their child. But he's my father. For better or worse...he's the only family I have. He stayed when she didn't.
“I just started my old job back up again. If you can give me a little bit of time I can send you a check.”
“Whatever,” he barrels out before he hangs up the phone.
With a heavy heart, I slide into the driver's seat and peel out of the parking lot...silently praying for the day when I'll be strong enough to kick him out of my life. The day I won't crave love so bad that I'll accept his version of it. The only version I think I deserve.