“I didn’t take your advice in that cheap shot of a letter you sent me.” He squeezes even harder, making me grind my teeth, but I refuse to show weakness by pulling away. “It proved how much you loved her. She loved you just as much, if not more, but break her heart again and I won’t even bother hiding your fucking body.”
He releases me with a shove before turning around and walking away.
“You wrote him a letter, too?”
I rub at my sore hand with my other one as I retake my seat.
“I wanted Izzy with someone that would treat her right. I knew Apollo wouldn’t hurt her.”
“He backed off before Christmas that year,” Hound explains. “They’re very close, but only friends.”
“I can’t lie and say I’m not glad he didn’t listen to my advice.”
“Okay. Back to what we were talking about. I have a wife and two kids to take care of. I can’t be sitting out here all night.”
I smile at the man. He’s not brushing me off, but he does have other responsibilities.
“You need to spend time with your son. Izzy isn’t going to fight that, but she may not be thrilled about leaving you alone with him. She hardly trusts anyone with that boy, but on the other hand, she may not be able to stomach the sight of you, so you may have some alone time with him. You need to work on a relationship with him before you even consider having one with her. So maybe start with option two and then see if option three is even a possibility.”
“And if I go to talk to her tomorrow and she throws her arms around my neck?”
He stands, his laugh boisterous and loud. “Oh, you stupid fool. That’s never going to fucking happen. Get some sleep, kid. You have some groveling to do tomorrow.”
Chapter 35
Isabella
“And once again, you’re not listening to me.”
Dad sighs, his jaw ticking as he looks at me. “I never ignore you, and you know it.”
“But you argue with everything I say.”
“Not everything.”
“Most everything,” I amend. “I can’t do it. I can’t just take Andy over there to see him.”
Dad hit me with it first thing this morning.
You need to talk to Drew. There’s a lot that needs to be discussed.
“Now is not the time to be stubborn.”
It’s my turn for a flexed jaw.
“You need to do what’s right by your son.”
“And I’m not arguing the fact that Drew needs to build a relationship with Andy, but I don’t have to be there to watch it.”
“Andy doesn’t know him. He’s a stranger. He needs his mother there to let him know it’s okay.”
“He trusts you as much as he does me. You can take him.”
“I’m busy.”
“I overheard you tell Gigi you were going to go tinker on your motorcycle. That’s not busy.”
“Upkeep on my bike is important.”
“And can be done at any time.”
He sighs again, his chin lifting up as he points his face at the ceiling, as if asking for divine intervention for my stubbornness. He won’t find it because I’m not giving in.
Seeing Drew yesterday hurt. I already have to look my son in the face, one that is nearly a mirror of Drew’s. Talking with the man who broke my heart is a punishment I’d rather not face any time soon.
“He won’t spend time with Andy until he talks to you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did he give that ultimatum?”
“No.” Dad sighs once again, the sound becoming so familiar, I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t a little frustrated with me.
“Is there something I need to know?” I take a step forward. “If you don’t trust him to be alone—”
Dad holds his hand up. “This isn’t about trust. Drew would never do anything to hurt his son.”
“But—”
“Never, Iz. Don’t even let your mind go there. He’s a good man.”
He’s a heartbreaker.
I’ve never thought Drew could hurt Andy, but it’s not my child I’m worried about getting hurt. Just the sight of him on the porch yesterday nearly gutted me.
“Okay,” I whisper. “But I’m not going to talk to hi—”
There’s a knock on the door.
“And there he is now. I’ll be in the garage across the street if you need me.”
This was a damn setup. I should’ve been suspicious when Gigi offered to take Andy to nursery school this morning. She’s never out of pajamas before noon most days.
I listen as Dad greets the devil on his doorstep.
“Good morning. She’s in the living room.”
I turn away, unwilling to see him walk into the house, grateful that the wall to the room hides the front door. I can’t see him standing in the entryway. He’s done it before, one night while he was on his knees while he—
Nope. Those thoughts aren’t allowed, no matter how starved I am for more than the platonic touches I get from Apollo.
It seems as if an eternity passes by and he still doesn’t speak. When I turn around, he’s not even in the room. Maybe he left. Maybe I get to avoid this situation just a little while longer, but when I go around the corner, I find him standing in the entryway, his face tilted up, hands shaking at his sides. He’s even bouncing back and forth on his feet like he’s preparing for battle.
I don’t plan to fight, though. Other than discussing his plans to spend time with Andy, we have nothing else to say.
“Drew.” Planning for monotone and dry, I’m surprised at how much gravel is in my tone when I speak.
“Izzy.” And that breathy sigh from his lips has no damn place in this house. “You look—”
I clasp my arms over my chest and give him a point for maintaining eye contact. I’m in an oversized t-shirt and sweats, but I still feel underdressed. I imagine wearing a parka and snow boots wouldn’t make me feel any more prepared for battle.
He clears his throat, his fingers still flexing in and out.
Does he want to touch me?
Is he struggling as much as it looks like he is right now?
If so, good.
I want him to want me. I want him to know what it’s like to yearn for something he’ll never have. I want him to hurt as much as he hurt me.
I have to look away. Seeing him brings too much back. Seeing him makes me want to run into his arms—after slapping him in the face and calling him an asshole.
Footsteps follow me into the living room, but this room holds memories too. We spent a lot of time watching television and getting to know each other here.
Taking a seat, I look up at him. Waiting for what, I don’t know.
In my head, when I let myself fantasize about him coming back, I always saw him clinging to me, begging for forgiveness, and begging me to take him back.
Those fantasies faded rather quickly, in part because he never wrote back when I sent him updates on his son. Hell, I don’t even know if he got them. It’s possible he trashed them without even opening them.
No, that’s not right. The gifts he had in his arms yesterday were covered in Paw Patrol. Either he read the letters or Lawson updated him about what his son likes.