Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Farrow!” Maximoff is running towards me, his earlier promise pulsing in my head. If you start a fight, don’t be shocked if I jump in.
Luckily, his threat is basically nonexistent with our baby in his arms.
He slows to my side. “Are you alright, man?”
I open my mouth, but Lo storms over with heated amber eyes. “What the fuck is going on?” He looks from me to his therapist, who’s busy picking himself out of the fountain. A couple of cameramen help him and bombard the guy with a million questions.
“Lo,” I start, ready to placate him. But I can’t really say anything because I’m not going to lie, and I’m not about to divulge Maximoff’s sex life to his dad. Especially not without his consent.
“Dad,” Maximoff cuts in. “Can we talk to you in private?”
My head swings to him, my lips parting, and Maximoff meets my confusion. What is he doing?
41
MAXIMOFF HALE
My dad, Farrow, and I head to the back of the shoe shop, the smell of leather pungent and permeating around us. Ripley is content and comfortable in a gray sling across my chest.
Bodyguards are posted at the entrances of the shop. No one in or out, and we pay the store, in case we’re warding off potential customers. I’m not okay with a local business losing money.
I’m in the dark.
I have zero idea what the fuck Kaden said to Farrow, but I know he’ll tell me later, if I ask.
Right now, I don’t need that information to do what has to be done. I won’t let Farrow be the bad guy, and that’s exactly what’ll happen if my dad has one-fourth of the picture.
I might not be able to control what you think of me or Farrow—but this is different, my family is different. My dad deserves to see the full image.
I have to tell him about Kaden.
Maybe we should’ve done this from the start. Maybe we were wrong to think we can handle everything and we’re supposed to bear it all. Because I know I can’t bear this anymore, and I won’t let Farrow carry the weight either.
“We’re in private,” my dad says, his face cinched in utter confusion. His deadly gaze darts between Farrow and me. “One of you better explain to me why my therapist looks like a wet mop.”
“I know him,” I say firmly, not hesitating this time. “I met him back when I was eighteen.”
My dad blinks. “Excuse me?” His face sharpens. “I couldn’t have heard you right. Because my son would have definitely mentioned that he knew my new therapist.”
“Dad—”
“Please tell me you ran into each other on the street five years ago,” he says swiftly. “Please tell it was a one-second interaction that lasted longer than Dazzler’s cameo in Dark Phoenix.”
Jesus. He’s bringing up Dark Phoenix. The one X-Men movie that shall-not-be-named in our household. This is bad. My dad spins to Farrow for answers, but I’m not letting Farrow explain this.
“I slept with him,” I say clearly, deeply, my pulse a heavy drum.
He chokes on a breath. “Recently?”
“No,” Farrow and I say hotly in unison.
“When I was eighteen,” I clarify, fuck. I rest a hand on my burning neck. “I had sex with him. It was a one-night stand.”
The air deadens around us. My dad looks outright murderous. “You were eighteen…how old did that make him?”
“Twenty-four,” Farrow says.
Donnelly is dead. I just think about how Luna is only nineteen, and he’s twenty-seven. Maybe it’s a good thing Luna is still hiding her galaxy tattoo.
My dad nails a glare at a rack of leather loafers.
I need to be honest, so I tell him, “I don’t want to go into the details, but he wasn’t a great lay.”
His eyes veer back to me. “Did he hurt you?”
Fucking Christ. You know what I’m not doing? I’m not telling my dad this was my first anal experience and how fucking awkward it was.
Face on fire, I say, “Not…not really.”
My dad turns to Farrow. “Did he hurt him?”
Farrow stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Like Maximoff said, it wasn’t a great lay.”
My dad bears down hard on his teeth, his cheekbones razor blades at this point. His amber gaze lands back on me. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” As soon as those words leave his mouth he grimaces in realization. “Jesus Christ—you kept this secret to protect me.”
“You were in a bad place,” I explain. “Kaden seemed to be helping, and we weren’t going to rip him away from you for some selfish, stupid reason—”
“No, that’s exactly why you tell me. For selfish, stupid reasons. Because you’re my kid, and I’m looking out for you. Not the other way around.” My dad takes a deeper breath, hurt coursing between us. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t talk to me or tell me things because you think it’ll send me spiraling. You’re never going to be the reason I relapse.” He’s said those words before, but today they travel through me. Soaking into my bloodstream.