“You had no right, Slade. This is my life and my kids.”
The way she says the word “my” causes my lungs to deflate and stall.
My pulse rushes into my ears. “I only told him I would pay the retainer. I didn’t tell him anything . . .”
Her head falls forward, her body sagging, and she closes her eyes.
I inch closer, my hands aching to grab hold of her. “Sarah, he can help you, and you can’t afford to pay him. I didn’t want—”
Her eyes harden. “You don’t know anything.” Her words are like a blast. “What I can afford and can’t is just the beginning. I spent months watching my life implode. Everything I owned was gone.” She snaps her fingers. “Just like that. Everyone I thought cared about me walked away disgusted for something I didn’t even fucking do. It was him, and he used my daughter as a diversion. I was left with nothing but ten thousand dollars in an old bank account, which I fortunately never closed.”
“This.” She swings her arms out to the side. “This is all I have now. A job that allows me to feed my kids and hopefully build some kind of future for them and myself. I don’t need everyone drawn into what I’ve tried to leave behind, or you going behind my back and talking to my boss about me or my situation.”
My skin prickles at her accusation, which isn’t totally inaccurate. “Sarah, he’s a selfish bastard, which I’m pretty sure is what makes him so damn good at what he does. There’s no way in hell I was going to let money or anything else stand in the way of him helpingifyou asked.”
She pulls back at my words, her brow scrunching. “What are you talking about? He’s been nothing but kind and generous to me. He gave me a chance when apparently I wasn’t anywhere near qualified or even remotely capable.”
“Who told you that?” I growl, my fists tightening.
She ignores me. “What is your deal with him? You clearly didn’t have any problem strolling in there and asking for favors.”
“I didn’t ask him for anything.” I spit it back, and I instantly regret it. I run a hand over my face, needing my panicked frustration to calm down.
She stares at me long and hard, then shakes her head. “I can’t do this. I won’t be with someone who won’t talk to me or doesn’t respect me enough to let me be a part of the decisions that impact my children and me.”
My stomach bottoms out, and my heart might actually pound out of my chest. All words get caught in my throat as her eyes fill with tears.
Dammit!I need her to see that I was doing thisforher. Only for her, Ollie, and Frankie.
Her shoulders fall, and she turns, defeated and giving up.
“He’s my father.”
She stops, slowly turning back.
There it is. The words I’ve only ever spoken out loud one other time. Both times, sending shrapnel soaring through all the wounds I’ve tried to bandage with minimal supplies.
Her eyes search mine, her brows tipping in. “What?” Her shaky voice is so soft.
“Krissy doesn’t know. It’s a long story that doesn’t really matter.” A fist grips my throat, and I force it out through my constricted airway. “Except I know he’ll get you out of this.”
She takes a tiny step forward. “It does matter. You matter.” Her lips press together to keep them from quivering.
Those words tear through me, and I see the truth in her eyes. My throat is consumed by fire, restricting my ability to think or speak.
“But you can’t fix everything, Slade.” Her voice wavers again. “I know you want to, but whether you like it or not, I made this bed, and I have to lie in it. I married Miles and had children with him. I need to determine what’s best for my kids. That includes knowing you aren’t side-stepping me and taking a lead you have no right to.”
There is so much to say, but I have no words. I go with the only thing I can at the moment. “I just wanted to help. I hated seeing you scared. I don’teverwant you to be scared.” It’s the whole truth. Seeing her afraid made me react, and I did what I never thought I would—for her.
Her shoulders ease down with that admission.
“Then maybe. . .you need to try actually being scaredwithme.” She pauses. “You can’t always be the protector. Sometimes, you just have to be the partner. The one who sits and waits when there’s nothing else to do. The one who holds my hand until we figure it out together.”
She eases closer, her tone so gentle it rubs against every calloused and scarred place.
“You also can’t remain closed off, sticking to the outside, standing guard.”
“That’s what I do. I fix things.” It’s what I’m good at, making sure those I care about are safe and cared for.
